Ripped By mstoll
- Er... everything's on the van, then. - Oh, fine. Thanks very much.
- And you'll take it to the depository until... - Until the 21 st.
- Right. - Right.
Of course, in the ordinary way, if you were going straight to your new place,
- instead of er... - My mother-in-law's, yes.
Yes, well, we'd offload at your new place.
- Yes. - Yes.
But in this case, probably another team will offload at your new place.
- Oh, you mean we might not see you again? - Right!
Oh, well, in that case, thanks very much.
What?
Oh! Yes.
- How much? - Oh, that's up to you, sir.
Oh, well, thank you.
Oh, thank you very much. And, er... there's my three mates.
One... two... three.
Er... three mates.
Ah, ta.
I wish there was more like you around.
More mugs, yes.
Oh, come on, darling, let's not leave the old place on a sour note.
- No, just a minute. - Hm?
Do you know the time that I'll always remember when I think back to this flat?
- When? - The first night I brought you back here.
- Oh, darling, will you? - Mm-hm.
Ah. What sort of things will you remember?
What? Oh, well...
Good Lord, er...
Well, I'd smartened the place up a bit. Bought some flowers.
There was a new LP on the turntable,
one of your favourites, all ready to switch on and turn your legs to jelly.
- And I only turned on two table lamps. - You only had two table lamps.
True. Nevertheless, the whole place was Seduction Incorporated.
When you went to the bedroom to powder your nose,
I sprayed something called Essence of Spring all round in here.
And when you came back from the bedroom, I took your hand
and I led you to a seat on the sofa... beside me.
And I offered you Créme de Menthe.
Yes, yes, you had a Créme de Menthe. And when I poured it for you,
yes,
I turned on the record...
...and then I said to you, "May I have this dance?"
And you nodded, and then we coursed slowly around the room.
And then I felt the resistance slowly ebbing out of you.
I wish you'd stop shaking your head.
- That's how you remember it, is it, Oliver? - I've told you,
that's the way I'll always remember this flat.
Must have been more drunk than I thought you were.
- Drunk? - To give you this Casanova complex.
What?
- You'd smartened the place up a bit, had you? - Yes.
- Bought some flowers? - Uh-huh.
I thought you'd borrowed them. I remember thinking that I'd never seen
second-hand tulips before.
- Now, listen... - But that was after we got in.
We spent ten minutes outside that door while you tried to open a Yale lock with a Chubb key.
- Rubbish. - I finally opened the door for you.
And as you were leaning against it at the time, telling me girls weren't practical, you fell in.
After I picked you up, you came and switched all the lights on in the room,
and while you were in there spending a fairly desperate penny...
- Oh, come on. ...I turned the lights down again
to something more in keeping with er... Seduction Incorporated.
And you didn't spray Essence of Spring, you sprayed fly killer. It made us both sneeze.
Oh, and I didn't have a Créme de Menthe. You poured it out and drank it yourself.
Thank you very much. I'd never have asked you to stay the night
- if I had known you were making notes. - You didn't. You went in there for a nap.
So I tried to get a taxi, and when I couldn't I had to spend the night on your seductive sofa.
When we finally got together,
daylight pouring in and the sound of milk bottles.
- Oh, darling, I'm sorry. - That's typical, isn't it?
The condemned man wasn't even allowed to eat a hearty breakfast.
What do you mean condemned?
Condemned to live for a week with your mother.
Oh, now, come on.
When somebody is facing a week in the salt mines, hard labour,
you don't go out of your way to destroy their morale.
I was just trying to put the record straight.
And the record was cracked. We know that, thank you.
- Well, I'm sorry, darling. - Too late now. Damage is done.
If we can't do anything about the past, could we at least do something about the future?
- What? - Well, um...
...this week of yours in my mother's salt mine.
You will try to be nice to her, won't you, Oliver?
Oh, come on.
Hold back with the snide riposte.
She's got the whip hand, you know.
- She could slip prune juice into your fruit salad. - Oh, good grief.
Will you try?
- To be nice? - Yes.
- OK. - Oh, thank you, darling.
- Well... - Anyway, who knows?
She may never mention the fact that it's taken you six years to make an honest woman of me.
Ooh, the taxi.
Right, we're off.
Well... goodbye, Seduction Incorporated.
- Hey, you know what? - What?
The new people won't be able to get in. I've left the key on the hatch.
Oh, Oliver!
- You're looking forward to it, aren't you, dear? - To what?
- Having your baby home again. - Well, it'll be nice to see Sandra.
And Oliver.
- I said it'll be nice to see Oliver too. - Yes, I heard you.
- Marjorie. - Yes?
I suggest you make this visit an excuse to bury the hatchet.
And I don't mean up to the hilt in his head.
Make an effort, Marjorie. He's under our roof for a week.
Isn't that the taxi?
- Good will to all men, including Oliver Pryde. - All right.
- Promise? - Promise.
Try to be nice, Oliver.
What, in the salt mine?
It's not the salt mine that bothers me.
- What, then? - The prune juice.
- Hello, darling! - Oh, hello, Mum!
- Hello, Oliver! - Oh, hello, Mrs Bennett.
Mrs Bennett! Ha-ha! Marjorie, please, Oliver!
- Oh. Righto, Marjorie. - That's the style.
- And I'm John. - Hello, Dad.
Hello, John.
There now, isn't that cosy?
Now, would you like to unpack, or would you prefer a drink?
I know what Oliver would prefer.
You were always a good guesser, Marjorie.
Come along, then, I'll do the honours.
Vermouth for you, Sandy, and a Scotch for you, Oliver.
Oh, thank you.
Ah, well now, sit down, you two. You must be exhausted.
- See? - Mm, it's easier than I thought.
- Well done, Marje. - I never thought it would be so easy.
- There we are. - Oh, thanks, Mum.
- Thank you, Marjorie. - It's a pleasure, Oliver.
- Cheers. - Cheers.
Now then, we want you to look upon this place as your own home, Oliver.
Oh, thank you, Marjorie.
I don't know what time you eat in the evening,
but Father and I have a fairly early meal because we like to watch the television.
Do you watch the television?
- Occasionally. - Yes.
Oh, Father and I are great fans.
We wouldn't miss Crossroads or Coronation Street for anything.
Do you watch Crossroads and Coronation Street?
- No. - Oh, you'll love them!
I promise you, by the end of the week, you'll both be converts.
Actually, there is a documentary on tonight that I'd like to see.
Oh, those awful documentaries.
As if life isn't depressing enough without having to watch it on the box.
- This particular one I particularly wanted to see. - Oh.
Well, watch it by all means.
I can sit in the kitchen, can't I? Don't worry about me.
- Oh, no, no, honestly, it doesn't matter. - Oh, good.
Talking of the kitchen, dear, shouldn't we be getting something on?
Ooh, yes, we should.
A liver and bacon pie, Oliver.
And I think I can say, without detriment to my daughter,
that I cook a better liver and bacon pie than anyone.
I don't like liver.
Don't like liver? Everyone likes liver.
Well, I'm sorry but I've never liked it.
Your mother should have forced you.
Well, she tried but I was always sick.
- It's full of Vitamin E. - My stomach didn't seem to worry about that.
- At school, I was always excused liver. - Excused liver?
I've never heard anything like it.
- And peas. - What?
I was excused peas.
There are peas in the pie.
Oh. Well, I'm sure I'll enjoy the bacon.
Well, really! I don't know how Sandra caters.
Oh, it's easy, Mum, I don't buy peas or liver.
Then you might have told me about his peas and liver.
Well, I'm sorry but in the middle of a heavy move,
one hardly remembers that Oliver's excused peas and liver.
Just a boiled egg?
Everyone has always loved my liver and bacon pie.
- Well, have you got a Chinese takeaway? - Don't be facetious, Oliver!
I'm trying to help!
- Now, Marjorie... - Darling!
- Don't get rattled. - You were doing so well.
- She wasn't to know. - You weren't to know.
- Oh, come on, make a big effort. - All right.
Try again.
- How's your drink, Oliver? - It's fine, Marjorie.
- Are you sure? - Positive.
- Just tell Father. - I will.
That's right.
Oh, by the way, I looked this album out for Oliver.
If he thinks he knows all about his bride, he might be surprised.
Oh, not my baby pictures!
- You were a beautiful baby. - Oh, come on, Dad, please!
No, no, I'd like to see them.
- There you are. - Thank you, Marjorie.
- What are you laughing at, Oliver? - Nothing, Marjorie.
- She's beautiful. - Oh, yes, beautiful.
Beautifully bald.
Yul Brynner.
We always knew she'd grow up to be a lovely lady, didn't we, Father?
Yes, we did.
Oh, we had such plans for her.
Her engagement, to a stockbroker, perhaps. Or a member of the aristocracy.
Yes, well, Mum, I don't...
- I used to dream of a society wedding. - Well, I'm sure Dad didn't.
Being father of the bride, he'd have to foot the bill.
It would have been worth it.
- Another album, full of wedding pictures. - Yes, well, I'm sorry, Marjorie.
The registry office and no guests.
Well, there you are, then. Saved Dad a fortune.
- We don't look at it like that, Sandra. - Well, don't let's look at it at all!
- Let's look at Crossroads. - It's too early.
Well, maybe we could catch Batman.
Well, perhaps we will at least have another baby album.
You want my baby pictures?
I want pictures of your baby.
- There isn't one. - Exactly.
Are you planning on a family?
Mum, we've only been married for six months.
- You shared a flat for six years. - Oh, we're back to the house of sin, are we?
- I beg your pardon? - At least we've moved out of it now, Marjorie.
I think I feel more comfortable calling you Mrs Bennett.
To be frank, Mrs Bennett, I'd feel more comfortable still
if I didn't have to face a week in the pillory because I'm not a stockbroker,
I haven't given you a grandchild, and I'm excused liver and peas!
- Father. - It's all right, dear, it's all right.
Soon be time for Crossroads.
- Oh, Oliver! - I tried! I tried!
- Well, Mum was trying. - Yes, she generally is.
- What I meant was... - I know what you meant.
We both made an effort, but the simple fact is that oil and water do not mix.
And in this case, you're mother's Texaco and I'm Loch Lomond.
I'll take that.
- Look, will you apologise? - Yes, yes, I'll apologise.
And if it'll prove anything, I shall be quite happy to force down her liver and peas
and bring them up again in front of her.
Right.
- Well, I'll go and tell her. - Oh, I'm sorry.
Ha-ha!
Oh, Marjorie!
Now look, Oliver, the more cubic feet of air we keep between you and my mother the better.
Just a word with her, darling?
- To apologise? - Something like that.
- No abuse? - Oh, good heavens!
Well, all right, then. I'll go and tell her.
Mum? Oliver wants a word!
I am not going to say sorry, Oliver.
- Of course not, Marjorie. - That's all right, then.
I've um... I've just been browsing through the past.
This is a nice wedding photo of you and John.
Thank you.
April, 1947.
- What? - You can just see the date.
Really? Yes, well...
Sandy and I have always celebrated her birthday in August.
I know my daughter's birthday.
She'll be 32 this August.
- I think it's 31. - No, no.
Here's her birth certificate.
She was born...
...four months after your wedding snap was taken.
Oh, Marjorie.
Now listen, Oliver.
- I wouldn't tell a soul. - Certainly not Father.
Doesn't he know?
Well, of course he knows, you...
Father is a little sensitive about it.
He found it very hard to smile in that photograph.
Do I have to spell it out for you, Oliver?
Oh, certainly not, Marjorie.
So, you and John had... Lived together, did you?
Ssh!
Not another word. I promise.
Well, there'll be no need for it... will there, Marjorie?
Now, I have a feeling that you and I are going to have such a happy week together.
Give us a kiss.
Oh!
Come on!
- The removal men will be there! - Coming!
Sorry, darling. Had to say goodbye to Mum.
Well, so did I. Didn't take me long. Come on.
Now then, we've had a super week.
Didn't I tell you you and Mum could get along?
Yes, you did. Wasn't it nice, hm?
Oh, er... Apsley Court, please.
Manor Road, Fulham.
Bye, Marjorie.
Half an hour late.
I did notice a very convenient watering hole just round the corner.
- Yeah? Oh, that'll do us. - Come on.
Mine's a pint!
- I'm terribly sorry. We couldn't get a cab. - Oh.
- You're not doing this all on your own, are you? - Oh, no, guv, the lads have gone to the pub.
- Oh, getting their strength up, eh? - Yes.
- I'll just go round and get 'em for you, then. - Pity you won't have time for one.
That's all right, love. I hardly ever touch it myself.
Come on, darling.
Eh? Come on.
Now you can't complain about my mother.
In the last week, you and she have been almost like lovers.
- Have we really, darling? - Mm.
Ah, I'd almost forgotten what this place looks like.
Home at last.
Come on, better get a move on.
Here we go.
Charlie, grab that tea chest.
George, block the door.
Come on, move yourselves. Come on, hurry up. That's it.
- Here we are, then, guv. - Er... the key won't work.
- Can we send for Raffles? - How about Superman?
You have a go, darling.
Well, we've got Wonder Woman, ain't we?
Won't be long.
- Oliver, it's the wrong key. - It can't be.
I got it from the estate agent.
Perhaps the catch is down on the inside.
Oh, yeah? I suppose the other lot left by the lavatory window, then.
Right, you know where to find us. Put that down, Harry.
- We won't be a minute. - Neither will we.
Come on, Harry, mine's a pint.
All right, leave off, they've lost the keys. Back to the pub.
- It's the wrong key! - How can it be the wrong key?
I'm gonna get in here, even if I've got to go out and buy gelignite.
How practical. I suppose they sell it at the corner shop.
- Would you be quiet? - Would you be quite?
My husband's trying to rest.
Oh, dear, I'm terribly sorry.
He overslept yesterday and hurt his leg running to the Social Security.
I'm not surprised he's not fit,
he's been denied his daily exercise for over a month.
- Oh, is he ill? - No, he's on strike.
He's not manual, you know, he's white collar.
- Are you the new people? - Yes.
- We can't get in. - Key won't fit.
- Isn't there one under the mat? - There is no mat.
Oh, that's just like the Richardsons.
I don't suppose they've left you a light bulb. And they've probably taken the lavatory paper.
Oh. Well, we'll, er... try and survive.
I wonder if we might ring the estate agents from here?
Oh, well, as long as we don't disturb Bernard's leg.
Right. Thank you very much.
I think it's 5p for a local.
3p.
But we don't mind paying 5p.
Oh, no, this is the peak rate, isn't it? Before 1:00.
- Well, it doesn't matter. - Oh, yes, it does.
You only get two minutes at the peak rate, and it is before 1:00.
Mr Jessop, please.
- No, it's 2p for two minutes. - Gone to lunch?
It depends whether where he's ringing is under 56 kilometres.
- I haven't personally measured it. - Well, when will he be back?
Because if it's over 56 kilometres,
he only gets four seconds for 2p and he's had those already.
Well, it's Oliver Pryde.
We can't get into Apsley Court. I think your clients must have given you the wrong key.
- It's 40 seconds after 56 kilometres. - What?
I said it's 40 seconds after 56 kilometres!
Oh, good grief! Yeah, well, if you could, please. I've got the removal van outside.
No.2, Apsley Court.
Yes. Thank you.
- To be on the safe side, 10p. - Oh, good.
Apparently, the Richardsons had a...
Yes. Merry Christmas.
The Richardsons had a break-in, had to change the locks, and we got one of the old keys.
Oh, the Richardsons would go to their insurance company
if someone took a circular that was sticking out of their letterbox.
- Well, thank you very much indeed. - Thank you.
I hope they've left you all the floorboards.
- Well, nice to have nice neighbours. - What did the agent's say?
They're sending someone round with a new key.
- How long? - Oh, about that long.
No, it's not far.
Under 56 kilometres?
I should say so.
Oh, dear.
I just hope our solicitor's ironed out the last wrinkle.
- I didn't know there was a last wrinkle. - Just a very tiny wrinkle.
- Oh, good. - He said he'd ring us.
Great, that'll be him.
No problems now. Soon get this...
Oh, damn! What the hell are we gonna do?
Well, short of buying gelignite from the corner shop...
- Perhaps it's not for us. - Somebody for the Richardsons.
- Yeah. - Yeah.
- If they had any friends. - Yeah.
- Ooh, I hate that, you know. - What?
Well, a phone ringing and ringing and then suddenly going quiet.
- Makes me think of somebody dying. - Oh, thanks, I needed cheering up.
Oh, dear.
Hey, Oliver?
Mm?
You know, I still can't get over how nice Mum was to you after that first evening.
Oh, can't you, darling? Must be my natural charm.
Here's the right key, Mr Pryde. Sorry about that.
Never mind.
Darling.
Bloody Richardsons.
We're in! Hooray!
- And no loo paper. - Well, as long as they've left the loo.
- I'll get the workers. - Right.
Right, lads.
Hello? Oh, hello, Mr Pendleton.
Listen, did you ring just now?
- Come on. - We've got to make all that time up.
Right, I'll tell him. Bye.
- Right! - Darling, that was our solicitor's.
Apparently, there's a document that hasn't come from the other solicitor's
- and the flat isn't ours until it does. - What?
- Right you are, then, guv. - No, hang on.
- But you're in. - Not officially.
- There's nothing else for it, then, is there? - I can't agree with you more.
- Oh, wait a minute! - Hang on a minute!
Hang about, hang about. There's an hold-up.
Back to the pub. Come on.
Can you remember a dim and distant time, so long ago that I can't put a date to it,
when we had a nice, cosy flat, with light bulbs and nice neighbours and no tea chests?
- Oh, darling, don't! - Life was a gentle running brook then,
instead of a raging torrent of discomfort, disappointment and disaster.
Well, never mind. The brook will run again.
Yes, it will. And with our luck, it'll probably well up through the floorboards.
Squatters?
Well, they're not picnickers.
Now then, look here! What's going on?
Who are you?
Who am I? Who am I?
Well, I don't know if you don't.
Can you go away and let us get some sleep?
I am the new owner of this flat!
I've been waiting for half an hour to get in, and it's adding insult to injury
to discover that I only had to press the bloody door bell.
- So please leave, all of you! - We have got squatters' rights, mate.
Have you indeed?
I see.
Well, in a moment you will find yourselves squatting beneath a pile of tea chests.
- I shall have you removed. - Oh, yeah?
By the removal men.
Squatters! After a week with my mother-in-law.
Oh, Mike, we'll have to go.
- How did you get in? - Oh, it's easy.
- We just watch for someone moving out... - We put the front door on the catch...
...and then we nip in when they've gone.
Oh.
The point is we've got squatters, I want you to get 'em out. OK? This way.
Well, I mean, five with my wife. Well, actually, six with me...
Come on!
- This way. - Well, it's all right for you. Innit, Charlie?
- Thank you. - It's a matter of protocol.
Thank you. Yeah, they're only squatters.
- We don't want to be trespassers, do we? - Where is he? Here he comes now.
It's only squatters, guvnor.
- Now then, everybody out this way. Thank you. - Er... darling.
- We can't chuck her out. - Why?
Well, um...
I'm sorry, Sandy, but this is our lounge, not a maternity ward.
- Ouch! - What?
They're kicking. Feel.
- Where's her husband? - They're not married, darling.
They're not... You're having twins and you're not married?
You should try it. I never have trouble with my mother-in-law.
Try living together? Listen, I've had just about enough...
- Wipe these up for me, pal. Ta. - Oliver.
- Mum! - Marjorie!
Oliver, Father has found out that you found out what I didn't want you to find out
and he's absolutely furious.
Now then, where am I going to sleep?
Well, you could try this.
Would you mind doing the washing up?
Ripped By mstoll