Ripped By mstoll
Their furniture van is bigger than ours was.
Ooh.
That's a nice bit of Jacobean.
Sandy, will you come away? Supposing they see you?
- I've always wanted a sideboard like that. - Ask if you can borrow it for special occasions.
- Shh! Come here. - What?
- It's their bed. - Honestly, Sandy. I feel like a peeping tom.
- They're not in the bed. - I know they're not.
- It's not a very big bed. - Come away.
- Do you think it's the spare? - They won't be asking us to stay. Come on.
Oh, no, there's a small one. That must be the spare.
So now you know their sleeping arrangements.
- The first one must have been their bed. - God, Sandy.
- It's very small. - Perhaps they're frightened of the dark.
- Stop peeping. - I haven't seen them yet.
But Mrs Crompton from upstairs says they're a young couple.
Oh, God, it will be nice to have somebody to talk to besides those awful old McKays.
As long as you don't talk to them about the size of their bed.
Ooh, that's nice.
Goodbye, nosey.
- Oh, bye-bye, darling. - I'd like this in the lounge, please.
Oh, hello.
Sorry, um... you do live there, don't you?
- Yes. - I'm your new neighbour, Jennifer Rawlings.
Sandy Pryde.
- You'll have to excuse the chaos. - Oh, I've loved it.
I mean, um... is there anything that I can do for you? Like cups of tea?
Oh, no, thanks very much. I'm getting proficient at tea making.
The men seem to like a pot about every ten minutes.
Excuse me, a cup of char wouldn't come amiss.
See what I mean? It's not just boiling the kettle all the time.
There's nearly always one of them in the loo.
It's total chaos.
We've only been here two hours. Already I need a holiday.
I said that six months ago when we moved in, but still no holiday.
Oh, you must. Everybody needs a break.
I don't really like to mention it. The move cost us a lot more than we thought it would
and I gave up my job just before we bought this place.
"So why do you need a holiday when you spend all day with your feet up?"
Yes, I know that syndrome. Try scattering brochures around the room.
- That worked for me once. - Really?
Choose the one with the dripping girl in a swimsuit on the front.
He'll look for any more like it inside.
It's tea break time again.
- This is Sandy... - Pryde.
- Hello.
- Who lives there. This is David. - Hello.
Hello.
Well, just let me know if there's anything I can do.
- Keep our kettle boiling. - Or lend us your loo when there's a queue.
Just ring the bell, I'll be in there.
Unless, of course, I pop down to the shops. Bye.
Bye.
- Hmm, did you tell her that we're not married? - Of course not.
- Will she be shocked about us living together? - Did she look shockable?
No. I thought she looked rather tasty.
Get the tea bags out.
Actually, darling, they seem like an awfully nice couple.
- "Nice"? - What?
"Nice" is my euphemism for "dull as ditch water".
Don't be silly, Oliver. Now, listen.
I was thinking of asking David and Jennifer round for a drink tonight, about 6:30.
David and Jennifer? They sound a bit cosy?
All right, Oliver.
Cosy and desperately respectable and dull as ditch water.
Bring a bottle of wine home, will you, please? Bye.
"Nice?"
Jennifer.
- This way. - Mind that corner.
Drop it, Fred.
Round there.
- That's nice. - Yes?
- Oh, sorry. - Mind your backs, please.
I know you've got rather a hectic... hectic day ahead of you
and I wondered if you'd both like to pop in to us for a drink later on?
- Oh, that's very kind. - 6:30?
- Give David something to live for. - Right.
Oh. If the subject of holidays comes up...
- We'll say the right thing. - Right. Thanks very much.
I'll go and get an armful of dripping ladies, then.
España, Paris, oh, lovely.
Corfu.
Greek Islands.
Hello, darling. Have you had a nice day at the office?
- Oh, I have missed you, I really have. - What's happened? Have you burnt supper?
- No. - Oh, good.
Because I had a hard day at the office.
Oh, yes. So I hope your "nice" friends aren't gonna stay long.
No, darling, just a quick drink. That's all. Sit down and let me get you one.
Thank you.
You don't want to open that one yet. We've still got some left.
Unless you spent the day swigging.
There we are. There's enough for one, but it is early for you?
Yes, it is actually, darling. Thank you.
You just go and sit down again and I'll pour you a glass.
Oh, thank you.
España.
Thank you.
What are you waiting for, a tip?
Oliver, um...
Do you think the flat looks all right?
Fine.
It's just that with that couple coming, I'd like it to look nice.
- Looks fine. - Sure?
You don't think I've missed anything, do you? It could be staring me right in the face.
Would you have a look round, please?
It's fine.
- Oliver... - Yeah?
Oh, nothing, darling.
You just have a nice read.
Read? No. I was just looking at this...
smashing bird... smashing bird on the cover.
Have a look inside. There might be others.
They're not holiday makers, they're models.
No. No, they're real people, you know.
Oh, yes. Pretty.
You meet people like that. In dripping swimsuits.
- Where did this come from anyway? - Brochure?
- Yeah. - Actually, I brought one or two of them home.
What, for me to look at the crumpet?
No, Oliver, no.
We haven't actually planned our holiday yet.
- Holiday? - We didn't have one last year.
No, we'd just moved. Paying for an ice-cream cornet would have broken us.
That young couple have just moved. She was talking about a holiday.
Oh, was she? Well, we'll do something, I suppose.
We shan't see many of these rising out of the sea. They're a bit rare in Bognor.
Bognor?
Or Brighton. We might try a camping holiday. Borrow a tent, cook on a Primus.
No bother about tipping waiters and chambermaids.
You're not serious?
I read an article in the paper, This chap had a sort of pretend holiday.
He and his wife packed suitcases, drove to their local,
then drove home again and pretended the place was rented.
"The sun-kissed harbour and the palm-fringed promenade
are only a short stroll from the four-star restaurant and a freshwater swimming pool."
At Bognor they have a sea-water-flavoured sea.
"Orange groves and orchards flourish in this region."
They'll have to flourish without us, so forget it.
It's marriage really, isn't it?
- What is? - All this non-holiday mood.
It's got nothing to do with the expense at all really, has it?
- It's not so much fun when it's legal. - Oh, come on, Sandy.
It's not so much fun when it's all cosy and conventional.
Oh, I remember when we used to meet married couples on the beach.
They were always a bit sort of dull or rather cosy,
- like your opinion of David and Jennifer. - It's just their names!
No, it isn't.
You've never really settled down to marriage.
Because I don't fancy freshwater pools?
Because you don't want to remember the carefree days
when we weren't weighed down with rings on our fingers. Why did you marry me?
I married you, because not only did you ask me to,
but also you were holding me in a moral arm lock.
Oh, my God, right on the dot. I do hate on-the-dotters.
Please don't air your living-together argument tonight.
Oh, they'd be shocked? It proves they're heavily married.
They can't wait to find somebody to talk to.
I'll change my shirt. Well, they're bound to be in their Sunday best.
All talc and Henry Cooper.
Hello, I'm sorry we're a bit late, but David has only just arrived home
and he wanted a shirt out of the chest of drawers.
- Couldn't find the shirt? - Couldn't find the chest of drawers.
We're both a bit grimy, so if you'd care to postpone the invitation?
Good Lord, no! Oliver's dying to meet you and your husband.
Oh, he's not my husband. We're not married, we just live together.
- Darling, come on. - Coming.
Here we are. Sorry I'm late.
Actually, Oliver and I were thinking that we might... might just go to the pictures tonight.
Well, I mean, as you're in a bit of a tizzy.
Well, Jennifer was just saying...
you were.
Well...
Hello.
You haven't brought a bottle? That is very kind. Come in, come in.
You're not going to the pictures?
Pictures? No.
Well...
- I'm Jennifer from over there. - I'm Oliver from over here.
David.
Hello, David. And you know Sandy.
So it's nice and cosy, isn't it? Come in.
Yes, thanks.
Oliver likes things nice and cosy.
Right, now, then, what shall we drink?
Our white or your red?
- Red, please. - Right. And the missus?
Missus?
Um, how is your move going?
- Everything is in. - But nothing has moved since.
No doubt your husband has been a tower of strength?
- Husband? - Any breakages?
What?
- From the move? - Well...
Red or white? I'll open both. This is a celebration.
I cannot tell you how nice it is to live near a married couple we can actually speak to.
Married? Well...
We didn't have any breakages, but... we did actually have squatters.
And one of them pregnant. Do you have children?
- No. - No, neither do we.
So we don't have to have any baby talk, do we?
Well, we don't, but then you're married.
Oh, yes, hook, line and handcuffs, doesn't it show?
- Jennifer is waiting for her drink. - We're not.
- What? - Not married.
- No. - No.
No, they're not married. So, now we know.
And what difference does it make, goodness me?
Come along, darling.
I thought you both looked happy.
Drinks, Oliver.
Well, snap.
Oh.
- I'll get them. - Actually, it's semi-snap.
We lived together for six months before handcuffs.
- We're very happy. - Thank you, darling.
Yes, we were happy, too.
We're happy now.
Are we? Oh, yes,
but you know, darling, the good old days.
- Well, cheers. - Cheers.
- Where's my glass, darling? - Over there.
Thank you very much.
Oliver and I were just talking about holidays, you know.
And I was saying that I love going abroad, but Oliver seems to prefer the south coast.
You can't agree? Do what Jen and I do.
- What's that? - Separate holidays.
- Separate? - We've done it for three years.
- Four. Doing the same again this year. - Great success.
- Really? - I don't think Oliver and I would enjoy that.
- Well... - I'll go to Bognor.
- No, no, this is interesting. - Or Brighton.
Do you each go with somebody or you go alone?
- Either. - It's easy to make a new friend out there.
- A new friend? - Or an old friend.
Last year I went to Gleneagles with Reg.
- And I went to Spain on my own. - Oliver. Oliver, was that the bell?
Oh, yes, I think it was, darling. Tell me about these new friends.
- What about you? - I went to Gleneagles with Reg.
Hello, sorry to bother you. We're looking for David and Jennifer.
- They've just moved in... - Reg!
Dave!
Isn't it great?
Oh, I'm sorry. This is Kate and Reg, two old friends of ours,
and here are two new friends of ours, Oliver and Sandy.
Sorry to barge in like this.
Just came to say welcome to their new place.
Well, say hello to ours first. What'll you drink - wine or wine?
Oh, not too much, they can become a rather quarrelsome old couple.
Oh, honestly, David.
Yes, honestly. They've been together for years and every day is a day too much.
- How long have you been married? - Oh, we're not married.
- Is anybody? - They are.
Oh.
Sorry. Sorry.
Oh, no, no, no. Not for long. We were on your side a year ago.
- Cheers. - I must say it's rather funny.
You two not being married, you two not, and us two being married.
I'll go.
I'm very sorry to trouble you, but my son has just moved in across the way.
We can't get any reply.
Oh, no, no, that's because they're in here. Come in, please.
- We don't want to intrude. - Not at all, you're not intruding.
I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you. Go straight through.
Hello, love.
Oh, gosh.
- Do you know Reg and Kate? - Yes.
And Sandy and Oliver.
Who must think they're opening a wine bar.
- This is my mother. - No, it isn't.
- What? - Oh, I'm sorry.
- But I understood this was David's father. - Yes, so I am.
And this is Jennifer's mother.
Frank and I were divorced when we met.
And we each had a child.
That's how they met.
Oh, I see. So you two are married?
We cohabit.
- If that's the proper word. - Frank.
I must say we seem to be the odd ones out, don't we?
- What will you have to drink? - No, we must rush.
- We must go and see this new flat. - OK, let's pop over there now, shall we?
Oh, er...
Oliver, I would invite you and Sandy, but it might be a bit of a crush.
Yes, of course, another time. That is if you don't object to entertaining a married couple.
We'll see ourselves out.
- Bye. - Bye.
Oh, gosh, I nearly forgot.
Excuse me. Cheers.
I don't know about you, but I feel like a nun at an orgy.
Still, I must say they have rather solved our holiday problem, haven't they?
- You're not serious? - Yes, of course.
Separate holidays, marvellous idea.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.
- Yes, they also say, out of sight out of mind. - Sandy, I wouldn't forget you.
- I would miss you desperately. - Why don't you come on holiday with me, then?
Spare yourself the pain.
What are you looking for?
Oh, nothing, nothing.
- Not your address book! - Certainly not.
Now, listen, Sandy. If you don't trust me, or if you are totally opposed to the idea...
I totally am.
Huh. I wouldn't go on holiday with you now, anyway, Oliver.
God, I'd never hear the last of it.
"We should have gone on separate holidays. I told you so."
Anyway, I'd get blamed for absolutely everything
from a shower of rain to dead wasps in your beer.
Find that address book you weren't looking for?
There are men in here as well as girls, you know?
Well, just remember one thing, Oliver,
there are men in mine as well.
You haven't got an address book. You threw it away when we started living together.
- I might find it again. - I doubt it.
- Why? - You burnt it.
- Oh, yeah. - Yes, pity, because it'd be interesting.
"Hello, is that Little Willy?" He's probably Big Bill by now, married and divorced...
Married and divorced three times and living with an ex-guardsman.
And anyway, you told me you only had two meaningful relationships, didn't you?
There was Simon. We went to his wedding last year
so I shouldn't think he's ready for separate holidays.
And Randolph.
Known as "Randy". From what you told me, he never lived up to his nickname.
Simon and Randy and that's the lot, innit?
Do you mind if I make a phone call?
What?
Before you start wading through your list of aging conquests.
Why, who are you ringing?
Actually, it's nobody you know.
No, as a matter of fact, I've just found an old letter inside a cookery book.
Inside a?
Yes, between the pages, actually.
I must have been cooking him veal fricandeau or venison pâté. Mmm.
Hello. Yes.
Is this still the right number for Byron Mills?
Byron Mills.
Well, Byron as in, "She walks in beauty like the night."
Oh, no, he didn't write it, not my Byron anyway.
And Mills as in Bertram Mills
or "The mills of God grind exceed..."
Oh. Would you happen to have his new number?
Thank you.
Yes.
Uh-huh.
Marvellous.
Thank you very much indeed.
Thank you. Bye-bye.
- He's moved. - I don't think he was ever there in the first place.
Oliver, Byron was always very much there.
Byron Mills?
Yes, Byron as in...
Yes, I heard all that. But I've never heard of Byron Mills.
Well, he was very special.
Anyway, I'm not gonna try him again with you listening.
I'll wait till you're in the bath. Don't worry, darling.
I shall be perfectly safe on holiday.
Byron was always very good at it.
Good at what?
Life saving.
All right, all right, I'm coming.
Hang on. Oh, crumbs.
Hold on.
Hello.
Cynthia.
Hello, what a surprise. You still at the office?
Gosh, I haven't spoken to you for ages.
No, sorry, look... I just dashed in.
Oh, that's why you're panting.
I thought I might have interrupted something.
He was so desperate to get your number.
- Who was? - Mr Mills.
He rang the office here. I said you'd left a year ago.
Mills?
Yes, somebody Mills.
I said you'd left and gave him your number.
But then I remembered you'd moved, so he hasn't got your new number.
Did you manage to get his number?
Somebody Mills? No.
- Sorry. - It's OK.
Thanks anyway, Cynthia.
How's life? You and Oliver still gazing into each other's eyes?
Smashing.
- Bye. - Bye.
Hello.
Mrs who?
Ruth Simmonds.
My husband Denzil and I bought your last flat.
Oh, yes.
Well, pardonnez-moi for calling.
I just wondered,
we always give your phone number to people who ring
and forward your letters, of course.
Yes, I know. Thank you very much.
Pleasure.
I just wondered if you wanted us to give your address to anyone who asks?
Has anyone asked?
Yes. A man today.
Somebody "Mills"?
- I beg your pardon. - Did he... Did he give his name?
Oh, yes.
Yes, it was Mills as a matter of fact.
Byron Mills.
He wasn't exactly speaking in blank verse.
But he said he'd got our number from your old office.
So I thought it was all right to give him your address,
but then afterwards I wondered.
You know, there are such a lot of funny people about.
Yes. Well, they don't come any funnier than this one.
If it's who I think it is, I got him off a packet of flour.
I beg your... Off a packet of?
Sorry. Look, thank you very much indeed for calling Mrs Simmonds.
Bye.
She did say it.
She definitely said it.
He's off a packet of flour.
Hello. Just thought I'd let you know. Somebody called while you were out.
Byron Mills?
His name was Mills, yes. When he couldn't get any reply, he came over to me.
What did he look like?
Thirties. Quite presentable.
Said he hadn't seen you for some time.
It's Oliver, it must be.
No, it wasn't Oliver, definitely.
No, no, I mean... he's got someone at the office to do this. Victor probably.
See, there isn't a Byron Mills. I got him off a packet of flour.
Did you? That's better than computer dating.
No, I'm sure Oliver is behind this.
Well, you're going to find out because he's coming back.
- Byron? - Should be here any minute now, actually.
He can't be. He doesn't exist.
- Oh, I thought you might be Gerald. - Sorry to disappoint you.
- Gerald? You mean Gerald? - Yes.
- I didn't know you two were just good friends. - We are now.
What's the joke? I could do with a good laugh. I've been in Watford.
Last night, Sandy and I thought of having separate holidays, you see.
Well, I thought it, and I got out my old address book.
- Are you serious? - Yes. Our new neighbours do it all the time.
Sandy suddenly trotted out this bloke I'd never heard of.
Byron Mills. Said they once had a thing.
- Who the hell is Byron Mills? - Nobody. She made him up.
She got his name off a flour packet.
I saw it when I went to look for a letter inside a cookery book.
So I've been ringing people up and saying,
"Hello, my name is Byron Mills. Could you give me Sandy's phone number?"
Knowing they would ring her up straightaway.
- You crafty devil. - And I thought the final touch would be
if Byron Mills actually arrived.
- And you sent Gerald? - Well, yes, of course.
Well, she'll be dead disappointed when Gerald arrives, won't she?
Round about now she will definitely know that I know there isn't a Byron Mills.
And you!
- Gerald, what happened? How did it go? - She wasn't at home.
- Oh, damn. - Don't wor... I called on your neighbour.
- What, Jennifer? - Yes.
And I said to say I'd be calling back.
- You didn't? - I did.
Oh, great! Marvellous. So Sandy's still waiting? Great.
No. No.
Because I couldn't wait any longer. I had to get back here for my annual interview.
So I sent Roger Grant in my place.
- Roger Grant? - Yes, you know, that...
dishy fellow that I share an office with.
Yes, I do know. And Roger Grant is calling on Sandy?
- Yes. - He jumps on anything in skirts.
And slacks.
- Really? - Shut up!
- Oliver, I'm ever so sorry. - Shut up!
Well... there's gratitude.
Sandy?
Oh, hello, darling. Listen, I can't stop now.
Byron Mills has just arrived.
Byron Mills? There isn't a Byron Mills. It's Roger Grant.
Roger Grant? You're not Roger Grant, are you?
- No. - No, darling, it's Byron Mills.
He looks like Byron Mills.
Hasn't changed a bit.
Now, listen, darling.
We've just been talking about going on holiday together.
- I've got all the brochures... - Sandra, I am coming home this minute!
There's no hurry, darling.
Roger Grant is a highly dangerous crumpet merchant.
Is he?
Perhaps he'd like to come on holiday with Byron and me?
- I am coming home! - Manderson wants to see you.
I've changed my mind about separate holidays.
- I think it's a marvellous idea. - I don't. I would miss you desperately.
- You've got your address book. - Oh, no, they're all old hags.
It's you I want. You're my wife, my bride.
Darling, listen, I'm sorry, but I can't disappoint Byron.
- Tell Roger Grant if he lays a finger on you... - He says it's urgent.
- Darling, I've got to go. - Well, don't make it too quick.
- No, I'm not coming home. - Oh, good.
- Bye, darling. Bye. - Sandy!
Oh, Victor, would you rescue her?
Who do you think I am? Batman?
- Well, now, would you like another drink? - No, thanks.
Mind you, there is something I would like.
- Ah, no. - No?
No. Thank you. It's very flattering actually to think that one isn't too old to be propositioned.
But I still love Oliver.
In that case, I'll settle for another drink.
Fine.
Um, by the way,
would you let me have your phone number?
- You mean you might want to call me? - No.
No, but I might wish to call Byron Mills.
Ripped By mstoll