01x02 - Death

[bunniefuu]

♪ We're not going out

♪ Not staying in

♪ Just hanging around

♪ With my head in a spin

♪ But there is no need
to scream and shout

♪ We're not going out

♪ We are not going out. ♪

"Afternoon."
Ooh, sarky, nice start.

"Be a good flatmate, put the bins
out, buy some bread and get a job.

"Love, your favourite American
in the whole wide world.

"PS: Monkey made you some cress and
falafel muffins."

Oh, did he?

Well, you made them, you try them.

Stay with me, Monkey,
I'll phone an ambulance.

KNOCK ON DOOR

That was quick.

Afternoon. Don't you start.

You're in luck, Kate's out.

It was actually her I came to see.
Oh-h!

Not another rounds
of Smoking Jacket Joe Posh Nuts
versus The Californian Vegan.

It's hardly Rumble In The Jungle.

More like Epileptic With The Septic.

You all right?

Yeah, it's just...

Can you ask her to call me?

What do you say to Kate but not me?

"Your left leg's Christmas,
your right's Easter,
can I visit between holidays?"

Actually, you can't say that
to Kate any more, can you?
I'm hardly flavour of the month.

Unless Ben & Jerry's have
an ice cream called

Accountant Destroys Relationship
With A Girl Half His Age,
Helping Her Lose Her Cherry Garcia.

She was . I'll see you later.

I'm only joking. What's happened?

Come on,
we're supposed to be best mates.

It's not really our territory.

This isn't one you'll
be able to do a joke about.

Test me.

My nan d*ed.

She had acute angina, if that helps?

I can't believe she's gone.

I thought she was going to
live till she was a hundred.

Were you close?

Well, , I was only six years out.

I mean, to your nan.

Oh, I see.
Yeah, I was always her favourite.

I was the only other person she'd
let use her Stannah stairlift.

"Scream if you want to go faster."

Is there anything I can do?

No, it's fine.
There must be something.

Like what?

Help choose the coffin?

What kind of funeral is it
going to be? Cremation, I suppose.

You don't want to be
spending much on the coffin.

How did she, er... you know?

She went in her sleep.
Oh, I'm always doing that.

Oh, I see.
Well, that's good, isn't it?

Well, not good, but I bet she
was having a nice dream, as opposed
to a nightmare about...

I'm sure she wasn't. I'll get
you a whisky. I don't drink whisky.

- Yes, but it's whisky for bereavement,
- gin for divorce,

Special Brew
if you've been made homeless.

So did she say any last words?

She said, "Tell Harold
I love him very much."

That was nice.
Hang on, didn't he die years ago?

She was a bit confused at the end.

I don't think the nurse knew either.

She said, "Don't be silly dear,
you'll be able to tell him
yourself."

Must have come
across a bit heartless.

We're out of whisky.
Creme de Menthe?

Do you want a...? Course you don't.

Here's to Nan.

Oh, hello. That's sweet.

Isn't this the stuff that
made Van Gogh go blind?
No, that was Absinthe.

And he wasn't blind,
he just didn't have anything
to hook his glasses on to.

Nan used to like
the occasional tipple.

She's probably up there now
having a glass of port.

Yeah. Knowing Nan,
she's probably having two.

Yeah. She's probably pissed.

Landlady.

Rent boy.

Well, I say rent.

I'm using the term loosely.

Well, I say lady.

You've had a visitor.

It wasn't pest control, was it?

I've had problems with
mysterious wee-wee appearing
all over the bathroom floor.

I've told you,
you've got to start sitting down.

It was Tim.

That came round.
Not peed on the floor.

He's had some bad news. His nan d*ed.

Oh, no. That's terrible.
Did you know her well?

Yeah, I met her a few times.
She was always teasing me.

"You Americans were late joining
the w*r. You shouldn't have
let h*tler b*mb our street.

"It's your fault my Harold's dead."

- She was a bit woohoo! Maybe I should
- go and see him.

He's fine.
You know what posh people are like.

His upper lip's stiffer
than a Saudi jail sentence.

He's bound to be clammed up
with you.

Why? Well, expressing emotion's
not really your thing. Yes, it is.
No, it's not.

You're not the type to settle down
in front of a film with a box
of tissues, are you? Well... Don't!

When was the last time

you expressed your emotions? When

we were watching Animal Hospital.

Emotion isn't shouting out,
"No wonder he's crying, quid
to have a bloody cat put down."

I think you need
to express your feelings.

You should see a therapist.
Get lost.

Therapy's for Yuppies, Arseholes,
Neurotics, K*llers and Simpletons.

Or to give them
their proper acronym - Yanks.

I know an acronym for
another race of people.

I forget who they are, but they're
Bigoted, Repressed, Inbred,
Toothless and Smelly.

Oh, yeah, the French.

It's totally normal to see
a therapist, you know.

I've seen one. So's Tim.

Has he? Yeah,
he was having a hard time at work.

Did someone deface his Beauty
Of The Cotswolds calendar?

I suggested therapy. He was in touch
enough with his feelings to try.

Tim, the man who thinks Freud
is how an Irishman has his eggs?

Oh, well, some people are just more

in touch with their emotions

than others.

We're not that different. You are.

You think writing a birthday card
is a sign of h*m*.

All right, I'll go. For one session.

Good. There's a therapist in town
who's supposed to be brilliant.

How could she not be?
She's Californian.

- Another one.
- I see what my Aunt Gladys meant now.

"They're overpaid,
oversexed and over here."

Still, it didn't bother her,
she was a prost*tute.

Bit moreish, this creme de menthe.

I was going to get your favourite.
Sex On A Beach.

I don't really drink that any more.

It's too cold in this country
for Sex On A Beach.

I could get you a glass of
Fumble In The Airing Cupboard.

I'm really sorry about your nan,
Tim.

She was a real...

eccentric.

Remember that time when we

went round and she was stood at the

gate with her slippers on. Yeah.

Nothing else, just her slippers.

One on each ear.

I felt bad about not giving her the
great-grandchild she always wanted.

What about your brother's kids?

She didn't want them.
They're horrible.

The last time they saw her

they spelled out the word
"euthanasia" with her half-sucked
Werther's Originals.

Thanks for being a shoulder
to cry on, Kate.

Yeah, I figured Lee was
probably about as much use
as a chocolate teacake.

You mean chocolate teapot.

That doesn't make sense.
It would melt.

It's sort of like he's lost touch
with his emotions, like they moved

and didn't send him
a forwarding address.

No, that was his mum.

Anyway, I've sent
him for re-programming.

I just hope he's taking
it seriously.

I'm being chased
and I'm running and I look down
and I'm running through treacle

and to make matters worse,
I haven't even got any trousers on.

And how often do
you have this dream?

It's not a dream,
it's what happened when I was
working in a sweet factory.

Just after I was caught having
it off with the boss's daughter.

It's a joke.

Tough crowd. Do you find yourself
telling lots of jokes
when you're with women?

It's an ice-breaker, isn't it?

I'll bring a pick-axe next time.

What about them? Do you like it
when women say things
that make you laugh? Yeah.

It's not vital, though.

As long as they're not just

staring at me and making me feel odd.

What else do you like women to say?

I like them saying lots of things.

Give me one. Yeah, I like that.

Why would you like it if
a woman said, "Give me one"?

I wouldn't. It was a joke.

Do you find it funny because it
sounds like, "Will you have
sexual intercourse with me?"

Yeah, but it's the way
you tell them, obviously.

And is there a woman in
your life that you enjoy
sharing a joke with at the moment?

No.

Well, there's Kate.

Tell me about Kate.

She's, er... five foot seven.

No, no, no, tell me ABOUT Kate.

All right,
she's ABOUT five foot seven.

What can I say.
She's my best mate's ex.

Do you like her? She's all right.

She's my favourite American
in the whole wide world

according to the monkey
that makes me muffins
and leaves me notes in the morning.

Do you get along?

Yeah, when he's not looking in my

hair for nits and flicking poo at me.

Not the monkey. Kate.

We don't argue,
apart from silly things.

"Get your hands out of your undies,
stop playing with your tackle."

Fair enough, you should hear
the things she says to me.

Let me know if you like any of
these jokes. You could nod
or give me a patronising smile.

Did your mother used
to tell you jokes?

Oh, here we go. Here-we-go what?

All the Mum-fancying stuff.

I never said anything
about fancying your mother.

Are you saying she's ugly?

Is she?

Or was that a joke?

What do you think?

I'll tell you what I think.

You might be using laughter
as a way of repressing emotions.

A jocular nature is often
a defence mechanism

in people who are unwilling
or unable to express
their true feelings.

And thus they resort to humour.
This whole double-act thing
isn't really working out, is it?

It's strange when someone dies,
isn't it?

I've started feeling guilty
about all sorts of silly things.

Breaking an ornament and not telling
her, stealing one of her cigarettes,

painting a moustache on her face
when she was asleep.

Tim, you were just a child.

The moustache thing was
last Christmas.

I was a bit tipsy.

I drew a goatee
on Auntie Janice as well.

Nan's death has made me realise.

I don't really appreciate
the special things in life

until they're gone.

Sorry, I've said too much.

I've still got half a box set
of Little House On The Prairie
to watch

and those Pot Noodles
don't rehydrate themselves.

Hey, you shouldn't be eating on
your own tonight. Eat with us.

Us? Yeah. Me and Lee. Oh, right.
"Us" - that's an interesting word.

Yes, but you think "spreadsheets"
is an interesting word.

Come on.

Right, all hands on deck.

As the pervert said at
the Byker Grove convention.

Make yourself useful.

Reduce that sauce.

There you go.

I remember Nan letting
me help her in the kitchen.

I used to love it.
The warm, rosy glow of an Aga,

me in my favourite
Winnie The Pooh apron,

the recipe book opened up at

Fanny Craddock's Swirly Meringues.

Nan covering the budgie
in melted chocolate, rolling it
in hundreds and thousands,

and saying,
"Anyone for a budgie choc ice?"

She'd just started
to lose it at that point.

I remember when my nan used to cook

and I used to press my nose
up against the keyhole

and breathe in the smell of burning
hair as she was singeing
the bristles off the pigs' shins.

Do you think I should include
the budgie story in my eulogy?

You're doing a eulogy? Yeah.

It's just a silly poem I've written.

I won't read it. I don't want
to bore you. OK. Another drink?

No, go on. Go ahead.
Read it. I'd like that.

OK.

"Sewing the nametag
in my choirboy uniform

"Making ginger beer to share
in the prefects' dorm

"Teaching me grown-up things -
white wine in the fridge

"Butterfly collecting,
rowing and bridge

"And you always joined in,
no knitting like a spinster

"Pony rides together, a trip to
York Minster or Henley Regatta

"There'll never be another,
I miss you already

"You're my grandmother."

Well, you certainly
had a tough childhood.

That's beautiful.

I remember when my nan d*ed.
I wrote a poem for her. Did you?

Yeah. Go on, then, let's hear it.

"There was an old woman called Nan

"And I was her number-one fan..."

You didn't, really, did you? No.
Everyone's going to be very moved.

Everyone who I've ever been close
to is going to be there.

Well, almost everyone.

When is it?

That wasn't a hint.
I'm fine going on my own.

Tuesday, . .

Where is it? Kate, what you're
doing is really sweet.

- I don't I deserve to have you being
- picked up by me at two o'clock,

Then being dropped here
by five, . latest.

It's not necessary.
I'll set the table.

Careful.
What's that supposed to mean?

I'm just saying.

You know. No, I don't know.

Well, he's emotional.

You're sympathetic. Make sure
it's for the right reasons. "It"?

Come on, express yourself.

Let's see if the therapy helped.

A funeral can be emotional.

He'll going to see them carrying
the old...

and then he's going to... you know.

You'll be doing all that...

and it'll be a bit of that...

and before you know it...

I think maybe you just
might need one more session.

Laugh all you like, right,
but ask yourself this,

would you go to the funeral
if his nan hadn't d*ed?

HE HUMS "Loving You"
by Minnie Riperton

HUMS MORE OF THE TUNE

STARTS HUMMING TUNE AGAIN

HUMS MORE OF THE TUNE

HIGH-PITCHED HUMMING

What are you doing?

I've been asked to pick a song
for Nan's funeral.

I just can't seem to choose one.

What was she like?

I mean, when she was the full
shilling, before she got like,
mentally ill and lost it.

You have such a gift for words.

Are you available to
engrave the headstone?

She was completely normal.

She spent most of her life

in Henley,

she lived in a semi-detached house,

she was a member of the local
Neighbourhood Watch.

How do you summarise that
in a song?

It's a toss up between Anarchy
In The UK or Ice T's Cop k*ller.

Nan used to love Ice T.

Sip it on the veranda, did she?

With her cucumber sandwiches.

No, the first album,
Ain't No Ho Gonna Pimp My Bitch.

Think I might talk to Kate about it.

She's quite good about music.

Yeah, it's strange, we've been
getting on quite well recently.

It doesn't bother you, does it,
that she's coming to the funeral?

Of course it doesn't. I was just
wondering why you didn't invite me.

I presumed it wouldn't be your
thing. How can it not be?

There's free sandwiches, free
booze and grieving birds
knocking around...

I'm talking about members of
your family, I'm so sorry.

I should have asked you.
Do you want to come?

No, it's fine. I never met your nan.

- Don't worry. You're not
- going to be expected to talk to her.

It's fine, honestly. I find
them all a bit depressing.

That's the problem with funerals.

They promise laughs,
but let you down.

They don't have
to be miserable affairs.

In some parts, they leave the body
out to be eaten by vultures.

Well, there's no vultures in Henley.

And I'm not going

through that again.

Those sparrows took four
weeks to finish off Grandad.

What will you do when you die?

I'm going to donate my body
to science. Keep my dad happy.

He always wanted me to
go to medical school.

I'll have my head removed
and have it cryogenically stored
in liquid gas.

Keep my dad happy. Why?

He worked in the freezer
department at Asda.

Do you know, sometimes it
can be quite embarrassing
being out with you.

People who have problems expressing

their emotions often look

for other ways

to occupy themselves rather

than address their inner conflicts.

As a therapist, my job is to try
and find out what exactly these
diversions or jokes are hiding.

Grief.

Anger.

Love.

You might want to put this

reclining thing on a slower setting.

Right.

Where were we? It's important to

release the inner tension correctly.

I'm repressing I'm in love with

someone? I'm talking about the chair.

Are you in love with someone? No.
That was a very quick answer.

Well, I'm paying you by the minute,
I didn't want to hang around.

Do you mind if we
talk about Kate again?

I'm perfectly happy
to talk about Kate.

The floor's all yours.

The prices you charge, I think
I own half your windows as well.

Well, what do you want to know?

Does she like you?
I think so. As a friend.

Is it a special relationship?

Only the way Thatcher had with
Reagan. Nothing more than that?

No cruise missiles involved,
if that's what you mean.

Does the cruise m*ssile...?

Yes, represent a penis.
It was a joke.

Can we talk about something else?

We can, but aren't we ignoring
the elephant in the room?

The elephant is an idiom.

Is that the one with the
big or the small ears?

I think it's time you sat down
and had a proper talk with Kate.

You can do it.

As long as you pick
the right moment.

We are here to celebrate her life,
not mourn her death.

Although, of course, it is always
a painful time when someone
we love is taken from us.

Let us think of the friends and
family that she leaves behind.

At this most difficult
and painful of times.

TINNY MUSIC PLAYS "Celebration"
by Kool And The g*ng

I'm so sorry about your loss.

So what brought on
this little visit?

It was obviously last minute.

Didn't have time to put
your black denims on.

I've got black underpants on.

I think the idea is to wear
clothes that started out black.

So what made you come?

You know what they say. A friend
in need is a friend in Leeds.

I'm so sorry about your loss.

Gosh, it's so weird seeing
everyone again. They're all here.

Uncle Syngen, Aunt Flossy, Nana Boo.

They can't be real names?

Where are they from? Mordor?

Nana Boo? Shhh. She's just
had a heart att*ck recently.

I'm not surprised people coming up
to her all her life and saying Boo.

I'm so sorry.

I mean, thanks.

Try and look a sad, and
less like a funeral-crashing
sausage collector.

Kate, there's something
I want to talk to you about.

Yeah.

Go on.

Hi. Hey, Tim!

How's is hanging?
I mean, sorry about your loss.

Sorry I've been gone a while.

I was wheeling Auntie Janice
around the lavender garden.
She's nodded off.

This party's really
starting to kick off, isn't it?

How you feeling, Tim?
I think I might have overdone
the creme de menthe.

I'm feeling rather giddy
in a minty sort of way.

Still, it's unblocking my nose.

Down in one.

It's like being on a stag do
with Liberace, this.

Can you get me another one? Kate?

Could I get an Aqua Positano mineral
water, in a tall glass with some ice
and a slice of lime, please? Yep.

Tap water it is.

Your eulogy was lovely.

Thanks. I had to have a bit of the
old mint sauce for Dutch courage.

I hope it's not obvious I was tipsy.

Come on, who doesn't
like the Mexican wave?

Nan's death has put everything
into perspective for me, Kate.

I'm tired of... holding back.
I want to go for it.

It's time to play the music,

- it's time to light the lights, it's
- time to get things started.

That's The Muppets, isn't it?

I suppose what I'm trying
to say, Kate, is... do you want to
come back to mine later?

Tim, going back to your place
right now would be like
riding an emotional rollercoaster.

Hold on tight.
Welcome to Alton Towers!

That was a no.

Everybody off.

Tim, what we had was in the past.
We're not getting back together.

Now is not the time for
doing something silly.

Well, I warned your Auntie Maureen
that wouldn't get a laugh.

Have you not done this before?

You're looking for that
big hole below your nose.

Are you all right?
Course I'm all right.

My nan's dead,
been knocked back by my ex,

and my best mate's
pretending to be my uncle's wife.
I'm having the time of my life.

What, did you...?

Yes. But she said no.

You'd better go out and
check she's all right.

OK. Just remember, Tim,
that whatever happens,
you'll always be my best mate.

It's all one big false act with
you, isn't it? What do you mean?

You pretend you don't care
about anyone but yourself.

You give the game away by coming
here and saying that.

Come here, you big bear.

You really have been on the
loopy juice, haven't you?

Just to help toast Nan. You mean...?

Don't do a cremation joke.

You're right. We should
say what we feel about each other.

Do you know what you are?
Uncomfortable and squashed.

A council house. Oh, well, close.

On the exterior you're all cheap
bricks and discarded nappies.

You've tried to improve yourself,
stuck on stone cladding, you've
bought a brass knocker from B&Q.

But there's no escaping it,

on the outside you still come across

as basic, two dimensional,
functional, cheap housing.

I can't believe we don't speak
like this more often.

But step inside the door.

Watch the pit bull.
You know what's inside?

An old engine? Knock-off fags?

Despair?

A palace. Made of marble.

Full of princes and princesses
milling around,
talking about... gold.

There's a statue of a young cherub
boy having a tinkle in the fountain.

And a tiger-skin rug
on the floor that you sh*t
with your own bare hands.

Not been in a council house before?

If you weren't such an untactile
northerner, I'd kiss you.

You're a great chap.

Go on. You'd better check Kate's OK?

She's fine.

I'll stay here with you.

Keep you entertained.

Look at that, Mick Hucknell.

Timothy, I want a word with you.

Oh. Hi Auntie Janice.

So why don't we try and explore
your deepest and innermost
subconscious feelings.

Tell me, what do you like in a woman?

MIMICS MONKEY: Big,
hairy and with their knuckles
scraping along the ground.

And how long have you fancied my mum?

Please, tell me about your dreams.

MONKEY: I keep running but I'm
being chased by the elephant -

I can't get away,
because I've had one too many of
Kate's cress and falafel muffins.

How many have you had?

MONKEY: One.

Oh, sorry, doctor. Hello.

Have you managed to figure
out why our primate friend
keeps wetting the bed?

Not yet. I wasn't talking to you.

So, did you get Tim home all right?

He managed to re-enamel
the inside of his toilet bowl
with creme de menthe.

At least his breath will smell nice.

So are you going to go and see him?

No, I've decided to put some space
between us for a couple of days.

Providing none of his other elderly

relatives has bought the farm.

What does that mean? It's an
American expression for dying.

Oh, yeah, that makes sense.

You bunch of freaks.

I know, we're all crazy!

Why don't we just say something
logical like "kick the bucket" or
"popped your clogs" or...

"choke the chicken"?

Oh, no, I forgot, that means...

Not in front of the monkey.

Was there something you
wanted to tell me at the funeral?

Nah, it's nothing. It can wait.

Maybe another time.

Yeah.

So, no more therapy, huh? Nah.

Different technique.
It's called "getting a grip".

It used to be quite big
in the seventies

before being a nutter
became fashionable.

Hope this doesn't mean a return

- to the old emotionally-constipated
- Lee? Not at all.

I borrowed Little House
On The Prairie from Tim.

Let's watch Mary go blind.

Should I get a box of tissues?

No, I don't want to end up like Mary.

♪ We are not going out. ♪