Ripped By mstoll
(Phone rings)
Oh, get the phone, would you, please, darling?
- I can't. - Oh, sorry, darling.
(Phone continues ringing)
Hello?
Er... well, we haven't quite finished yet,
but I think there'll be two more cases, possibly three.
Yes, yes, by all means.
Fine, OK. Thank you very much.
One of the removal people may pop in to see how much stuff we've got for tomorrow.
OK.
I say...
Hm?
Did you know that men outnumbered women in October 1977?
Where?
Everywhere. All over the world.
Instead of you girls fighting over us, it was the other way round.
Oliver, you're supposed to be using that newspaper for wrapping, not reading.
What? Oh, sorry.
(Hums cheerfully)
(Romantic music)
Any more string in there?
Sandy?
Any more?
- Are you feeling all right? - What?
You look as though you're going to be sick.
Sick?
Yes, you looked a bit odd. Any string in here?
No, I don't think so.
Damn. I wonder if Gerald's got any downstairs.
Why don't you buy a ball?
You never buy string. You either take it off parcels or you borrow it.
Well, you wouldn't need so much string, if you could throw something away.
Throw something away? I've hardly got a thing left.
Then why is this broken alarm clock still with us?
Oh, yes. We can get that mended.
The last time you said that you overslept four times in a week,
and went out and bought a new one.
I can still get the old one repaired.
Well, even with your impersonation of Rip Van Winkle,
you don't need two alarm clocks.
No. One is for the guest room.
Well, darling, if we can afford a guest room,
surely we can be a little more extravagant than a broken, Mickey Mouse alarm clock.
Sandy, please, you are disorganising me.
We won't be ready for the house cooling party.
I know we won't if I've got to check everything you've packed.
You're not taking this screen?
Course I am.
- What for? - Well, to show our slides.
- The projector's broken. - Only the lens.
Only the?
Oliver, even with a new lens,
I don't think this screen is going to do our new slides much justice.
Well... I'll soon get that repaired.
Back to the bedroom. Go on.
Hey, what's this big parcel?
The telephone directories.
Telephone directories?
They might take theirs with them.
Well, we'll get some new ones.
I might want to ring someone on the day we move in.
There is Directory Enquiries, Oliver. Honestly.
Those directories are just the right height for propping up my drawing easel.
- You're not taking your easel? - I most certainly am.
Oliver, you haven't drawn so much as a few words of graffiti in over a year.
The postal course wasn't as easy as they said.
Anyway, every time I did start on a picture, you wanted to use the S to Z.
I can't go through your Leonardo da Vinci period again.
Ah-ah. I'm going to see if Gerald's got any string. Leave it alone.
You'd better make sure you get plenty.
Just in case you want to wrap up a few pounds of fluff.
Telephone directories!
(Phone rings)
- Hello? MAN: Mrs Pryde?
Yes?
- George Simmonds here. - Simmonds?
I'm buying your flat.
Oh, yes, I am sorry. We've only met a couple of times, haven't we?
Yes, all done through solicitors. Quite.
You know, I haven't met your husband at all.
Oh, well, erm...
Would you like to come to our house cooling party tonight?
Well, it isn't really a party.
It's a few friends popping in between seven and ten for a drink and a peanut.
Well, I won't do that, thanks very much. But, look, I am in the area
and I thought I might pop round and take a couple of measurements.
- Oh, yes, fine. - Well, thanks very much.
- Bye. - Bye, now.
(Hums cheerfully)
(Romantic music)
OLIVER: Dear Sandra, I think I must have taken your phone number down wrongly
at the party last night.
Hardly surprising, when they kept the lights so low
even a bat might have made a crash landing.
I just hope I've got your address down right:
I can't afford a private detective.
As I told you, I would like to see you again.
So, do, please ring me sometime. Number above.
And many thanks for brightening such a dark evening.
Yours sincerely, Oliver Pryde.
OLIVER: Dear Sandy, I hate Manchester.
I only rang you five minutes ago, but I'm lonely again, so I thought I'd write.
If I catch the post, you'll be holding this letter tomorrow.
I don't think I've ever envied a piece of paper before.
- (Door slams) OLIVER: Gerald lent me some string.
I'm gonna miss him and Sheila and the...
Are you sure you're not feeling sick?
- What? - You're looking odd again.
Oh, no, darling. I'm fine.
What?
You've chucked out that alarm clock.
- No! - You've been up to something.
Where is it? Oh, yes.
Where's my screen?
Oh, yes. Drawing board? Yes.
Yes, right.
Have you quite finished calling me a liar?
Liar? Oh, no, no, darling, of course not. It's just...
Well, a kiss like that coming right out of the blue.
It's usually some sort of smoke screen or a bit of insurance.
Isn't it? What is the matter?
Nothing.
Nothing? Look...
I go out for five minutes and I come back and find you looking like a wet weekend.
You killed something, that's all.
Killed something?
Why are you so unromantic?
It's not effeminate, if that's what you're worried about.
I mean, we're not gonna think any less of you if you occasionally get a little starry eyed.
Starry eyed about borrowing string?
You're different, Oliver. You've changed.
- Since I went for the string? - It's got nothing to do with the string!
We just don't talk the same language any more.
You don't - accusing me of killing something just cos I thought you'd thrown out my alarm.
- (Doorbell) - It's probably the removal bloke.
- Shut the door, please. - He's not in yet.
This door.
- Mr Pryde, I'm... - Come in. My wife said you'd be round.
You wouldn't like a drink, would you? I'm dying for one.
Well, yes. A whisky, please.
Yes, I could do with this. It's all a bit depressing.
Moving? Yes.
Lots of memories, I expect.
When you start packing up, you realise what a slum you've been living in for seven years.
Slum?
Oh, yes, this place is in a terrible state.
The surveyors must have been purblind, I think.
Mind you, we had chairs and things hiding the worst bits of the flooring. Cheers.
Cheers.
And the draughts. The hurricane that whistles through this window
must come all the way from Siberia.
Put what you like round the frame.
It doesn't make any difference because the wood's warped. Ha ha ha!
- Is this a joke? - A joke? You try living here, mate.
Listen to this.
(Floorboards creaking)
Thank heavens we've got understanding neighbours downstairs.
Mind you, the people upstairs are the reverse.
They spend night and day with their ear holes pressed to the floor.
The tiniest decibel over... well...
- Listen to this. - (Music on radio)
(Thumping on ceiling)
Nearly all the sash cords are broken.
Needs a waste disposal unit in the sink.
I promise you, you drop one tea leaf down the hole, it's bunged up. Yep.
The boarding round the bath, a few months ago we thought of replacing it,
so we took out a panel. But we stuck it back.
It was like a Florida swamp under there, all green and furry.
Yeah. I was afraid a crocodile might lift its nose out of the slime.
And then there's the loo.
The ball cock bit doesn't fill up.
Well, it takes 20 minutes. It's defied the efforts of 11 plumbers.
We think it ought to be in the Guinness Book Of Records.
- This is terrible. - Worse than that. It's catastrophic.
Ah, Mr Simmonds.
- Mrs Pryde. - So you've met my husband at last.
Yes.
This is Mr Simmonds. He's the gentleman that's buying our flat.
- Finished your measuring up? - What?
- I don't think I'll bother now. - Oh, you must.
I mean, you must. That's what you came here for, isn't it?
We'll just leave you to it. Oliver.
What?
What have you been saying?
I thought he was the removal bloke.
I heard the bit about the bath and the loo.
- There's lots more. Oh, my God. - Oliver!
I thought he was the removal... He's signed his contract, hasn't he?
Don't you know?
No, there were so many bits of paper. Oh, my God.
- Whisky - have another glass. - No, it's all right.
Wet the head of your new baby, so to speak.
And a jolly handsome baby, you'll agree.
- This flat? - Oh, yes.
It's a real bargain. It's breaking our hearts to move out, you know.
Really?
Last night my wife cried herself to sleep.
Yes, it's a nice cosy place.
What about the wind from Siberia?
What? Oh, that's just my joke.
And...
- (Floorboards creak) - Well, if you jump up and down.
I mean, honestly.
(Music on radio)
- (Thumping on ceiling) - Yes, well... I mean...
They're not there all the time.
And the lavatory?
It takes its time, but you don't go every 20 minutes, do you?
- Drink up. - No, thanks, I'm driving. Excuse me.
You wouldn't like to join our house cooling party?
No, thanks, Mr Pryde. I'm sufficiently cool as it is.
Excuse me.
Good evening.
- Oliver! - Well, I didn't know.
Well, even if you thought it was the removal man,
you didn't have to give him a guided tour from Siberia to Florida, did you?
Oliver, do you make a habit of going around button-holing total strangers
and telling them your loo doesn't work?
I'm sure contracts were exchanged.
If there's one teeny-weeny loophole in our legal arrangements,
Mr Simmonds is going to pole-vault right through it.
And buy himself a decent home instead of a disaster area.
(Doorbell)
If that's the removal man, you can have a chat with him about the flat, can't you?
Why should Mr Simmonds be the only one to know?
(Doorbell)
- Well, you could have stopped me earlier. - Oh...
- Hello, Oliver. - Hello, Victor.
You know Veronica, of course. - Hello.
- This is Sandy. - Oh, hello.
Well... What do you say to guests? "Pull up a tea chest"? Ha ha ha!
- She's not as silly as she looks. - Darling!
Darling.
Well, well, it's hard to believe it's the end of the old place.
Nice people taking it, are they? Nice people?
Good, good!
Good.
Well, we'll say goodbye to it in style, shall we?
Raise our glasses?
Toast your future?
Ha ha ha!
- Any chance of a drink? - What?
- (Panting) - Oh, yes.
A scotch for me.
Veronica doesn't touch the hard stuff.
Now, then!
Gin and tonic, please, Oliver.
So, it's off to your mother's tomorrow, is it, Sandy?
That'll be nice for you, and for your mother, of course.
And it'll make Oliver look forward to getting to the office.
I just said, make him look forward to getting to the...
Ahem!
Yes. Don't bother about food, by the way. You've got enough to do.
Oh, yes.
Oh, you shouldn't have bothered, should they, Veronica?
Oh, no.
No.
Shall I open them or would you rather let them keep their flavour until other people come?
No, no, open them.
Oh, you're too kind. Isn't he, Veronica?
- Yes. - Yes.
Well, you take the crisps.
Leave the tin to me.
She's not very mechanical.
Sandy?
- Yes? - Drink?
- No, thank you. - Oh, come on.
- I said, no, thank you. - All right.
Cheers.
Yes, cheers.
- Happy days. - Yes.
- (Doorbell) - Thank God.
No, no, no, no. I'll go.
You two gather your strength.
- Hello, Gerry. - Hello!
- Actually, Oliver and Sandy are having... - Sandy!
Oliver!
Whoopsee!
Brought you a nice house cooling drink.
It needs a little cooling itself.
Shall I shove it in the fridge for a mo?
Going out not with a bang, but with a bubble.
(Laughter)
Actually, Oliver and Sandy are...
Oh, Sandy, aren't you over the moon about moving?
Your new life starts here, eh?
Oh, it's so exciting.
- Shall I be mother? - (Laughs hysterically)
Anybody else?
Me, me, me, me, me!
Darling, this is no time for singing practice.
(Laughs hysterically)
Well, Oliver, what do we do if we want to sit down? Pull up a tea chest?
(Laughs hysterically)
Anyone else while I'm here?
- Victor? Veronica? VERONICA: No.
Good Lord, it's not like you, Victor.
The man who never lets the ice in his drink melt.
(Laughs hysterically)
Anyway, cheers, Sandy and Oliver.
- Happy days in your new flat. - Happy days.
What happened? Did somebody die?
The party did. I don't know what's wrong.
Perhaps they're unhappy about leaving.
Yes, whatever it is, let's try and keep the party going.
And pray for new arrivals.
(Phone rings)
(Mouths)
Would that be your phone ringing?
It would.
Hello.
No, he's left.
Actually, Mrs Simmonds, I'm rather glad you rang
because I jokingly made one or two disparaging remarks about the flat
and I have a feeling he took me seriously.
Too late for what?
Really? Yeah, well, I did, but there's so many bits of paper.
Thank you very much, Mrs Simmonds. Thank you very much.
- I mentioned what I said. - I heard.
"Too late to cry over spilt milk," she said when contracts have been exchanged!
- Oh, darling! - So everything is all right!
Well, how's everybody's drink? Victor, you're being very slow.
Look, you haven't even opened the food. What's the matter with you all?
- This is fun. Uncomfortable, but fun. - (Doorbell)
- I'll get that. - And I promise you
it's never any use crying over spilt milk,
when you're not certain that the milk has been spilt. Whoo!
Come in.
Join the wake. Thanks for coming. What will you have?
- Sorry about the chairs. - If you feel like sitting down, you'll have to...
OTHERS: Pull up a tea chest!
(Thumping on ceiling)
- Bye-bye. - It was such good fun.
Bye-bye, darling.
Trevor. Bye-bye. Bye.
I'll see you soon. I'll see you in the office week after next.
- Good luck. - Bye-bye! Bye!
- Mind that bottom stair. WOMAN: Ohh!
Yes, that's the one!
Oh, I'm dropping.
Oh. Oliver.
Look, I'm sorry about earlier on.
Well, I'm sorry about earlier, too.
Hey...
Are we going to bed? Oh, good.
- Just a minute. - What?
Look.
You know when you said I was looking sick. Well, I had been reading these.
What's this? The latest line in pornography?
Well, don't you recognise the writing?
It's mine.
Well, I don't keep anyone else's.
Good Lord.
There's letters.
Postcards, theatre programmes.
There's even some of the little notes when I was late and you went to bed before me.
Good Lord.
You see, when I said you were unromantic...
Yes, I see.
...I had been hobnobbing with the past. - When I was more romantic.
Yes. No.
Well, yes, a bit, I suppose.
I don't know how you define romance, but I think this is romantic.
Do you?
I think it's the most romantic thing I've ever heard.
Oh, darling.
Even down to the blue ribbon.
Are you laughing at me, Oliver?
- Oh, no. - You are.
No, I'm not. Well, it's just that ribbon. I mean...
I'm sorry, Sandy, but the ribbon... Everything else is...
I'm sorry.
- All right, where are mine? - What?
The letters I wrote you that you said you would always treasure, where are they?
I don't know.
Well, I didn't keep them.
Well, you didn't write on them, "Not to be destroyed," did you?
You didn't keep one?
Well, no.
You mean, you tore them all up?
No, no, not tore them up, course not.
That sounds as if I was cross or something.
No, I probably just rolled them up into a ball and...
well, dropped them gently into the waste paper basket.
How many times did you read them?
- Oh, once. - Once?
Yes, well, your writing's not that bad.
I have read your letters over and over again.
I can't think why.
I bet you can't.
And now... neither can I.
Do you know, I did keep your letters.
I did.
I remember when I was packing. They're either there or over here.
Yes. There we are.
I knew I'd seen them somewhere.
When you mentioned it, it didn't register, but, well...
Those are from Maureen.
What?
Well, I can't understand this. I mean...
Well, I hardly remember her.
Well, I never really liked her.
Well, look, look. Look.
Look. Eurgh! Eurgh!
There you are. How about that?
All right, well, maybe I didn't keep your letters.
And I did laugh at your blue ribbon.
And I may not be out of a Barbara Cartland novel,
but I still think this is romantic, your little bundle here. I do.
And I wish I'd kept your letters now. I do, honestly.
Nonsense.
Honestly, I'd love to be able to read them again.
Well, I wasn't much good at letter-writing.
- Yes, you were. - No, not as good as you.
Much better. Really. You were much more newsy.
Somehow I'd heard all my stuff before.
Oh...
Good Lord, I was quite prolific, wasn't I?
Well, you went away on conventions. I went away on holiday.
Living together certainly saved on postage.
"Dear Sandra,
Many thanks for brightening such a dark evening."
Do you know, that was the first letter you ever wrote to me?
Was it?
"Do you know what I realised this morning?
I haven't looked at another girl since I met you.
I haven't even looked at one.
And do you know why?
Because none of them look like you."
Cor. Did I write that?
Well, don't you remember?
Oh, yes.
Oh, look. Here's another one.
"After I said good night to you,
I decided that I didn't want to see anyone else before I went to sleep,
anyone at all.
I just wanted to remember you as I'd left you.
So I let the last bus go and walked home."
- Darling? - Hm?
I remember thinking at the time, if you had passed anyone on the way home,
would you have closed your eyes?
Well, I don't know. It sounds to me I'd got my eyes closed anyway.
- What do you mean? - Well, it sounds like I'd had a drop.
- Why? - Well, letting the last bus go.
Ah, yes, but you explain that, you see. It says here.
You didn't want to see anyone else.
And that's a sound enough reason for a three-mile walk, is it?
Are you laughing at me again, Oliver?
Well, author's privilege.
- All right, I won't read any more, then. - Oh, no, don't be silly.
I didn't keep these all this time for you to have a good laugh.
Find a sad one, I'll have a good cry.
Come on, Sandy. They can't mean that much to you.
They do mean that much to me, Oliver, which is something you wouldn't understand.
These are from the man you were, the man I married.
The man you live with.
You were affectionate and considerate.
- Deadly dull. - No!
We were both moonstruck.
Call it what you like. I preferred you then.
Anyway, you couldn't write letters like this now.
No, I couldn't. I don't even remember writing letters like that then.
No, they all sound to me like a great big act.
- What act? - What do you think?
I fancied you like mad and I'd have said anything to get you into bed, wouldn't I?
Oh, come on.
Sandy...
Look, it's late.
We've had a hard night.
Oh...
(Chuckles)
"If I catch the post, you'll be holding this letter tomorrow.
I don't think I'd ever envied a piece of paper before."
"Do you know what I realised this morning?
I haven't looked at another girl since I met you."
"So I let the last bus go and I walked home."
"Dear Sandy, You haven't answered my phone calls,
so I suppose you'll tear up this letter without opening it.
But on the off chance that you've read this far, please, please, Sandy,
please...see me again.
Try to remember the good times we've had together.
I don't imagine they'll make you forget how badly I've behaved,
but they might help you to forgive me.
You're absolutely right, darling, I have been taking you for granted.
But I didn't know I was.
When you suddenly pointed it out, well,
it's not the sort of thing one likes to admit.
And that's why I said what I did.
And I've been sorry ever since.
I've never been so miserable in all my life.
So, please, darling...ring me.
Or write to me.
I miss you so much.
And I'll never be unkind to you again, I promise.
I love you, Sandy.
Oliver. "
Sandy?
Go away!
- No, this isn't me. - What?
This is the person I was.
The one that you liked better than me.
The affectionate one, you know? Affectionate and considerate.
And a bit dull, but if you like that one better, I'll try to be true to my memory.
Darling?
I'd like to quote to you from a rather undistinguished writer
whose works you've preserved for posterity.
Are you listening? Right, here it is.
"Try to remember the good times we've had together.
I don't imagine they'll make you forget how badly I've behaved,
but they might help you to forgive me."
Hm?
Well, you realise that I've been reading your letters.
I didn't think it mattered as they're sort of mine, too.
Darling?
OK, right.
Well, as they are half mine, I'm going to take my percentage in full.
I am going to tear up 50% of these letters.
Half your bundle.
You won't need so much blue ribbon after this.
Right. Here they go.
I'm tearing them up now, one after the other.
There we go. There they go.
- Tearing them all up. - You're right. These letters are dangerous.
- What? - Living in the past is dangerous.
- Sandy. - Bringing up the past is dangerous.
I wrote those on my paper in my ink. I paid for the postage.
50% of those are mine.
All right, I'm tearing up my 50%.
There.
Now we can make a new start tomorrow.
Not quite.
(Toilet flushes)
Now we can make a new start.
Those letters would always have been a threat.
You mean, you'll settle for Oliver Pryde, Mark Two.
- Oh, yes. - As opposed to the man of letters?
Yes, please.
Good.
Forgiven and forgotten?
Forgiven and forgotten.
When we get rid of these bits of paper, there'll be nothing left to remind us.
Nothing at all. Still, it was very romantic, wasn't it?
- Ah. Now, then. - Sorry.
- It's over. - It's over.
Absolutely.
Anything you say.
Ripped By mstoll