01x03 - Cheering Up Tom

[bunniefuu]

Coo-ee.

Morning, Diana.

And what a lovely morning it is, too.

It's been raining, you cretin.

And what are we painting?

The Sistine Chapel.

Oh, that's in Rome.

I've got a very long brush.

I'm paining the new gardener,
the Portuguese boy.

- Oh, Antonio.
- Mhmm.

Oh, let me see.

Uh! Oh, Diana!

What ever is the matter?

Oh, he's got no clothes on!

- Where?
- Oh! There! In your painting!

Jane, that is a tree.

It's naked!

Well, most trees are naked.

Nah, I mean it looks like a naked man.

Jane, has it ever crossed your mind that
you have severe psychological problems?

But...where is Antonio?

- Well, he's behind the tree.
- What?

Yes. You see, you can't see him.
All you can see is his rake,

leaning against the tree.

Oh! That's a rake. Oh, that's alright them.

The rake symbolizes the
presence of Antonio.

The painting is not a representational
actualization of Antonio.

Oh, you mean you can't do people.

I mean nothing of the kind.

What do you want?

Well, I've come to see
what you'd like for lunch.

It's a choice?

- There's veal cutlets.
- Or?

Or not veal cutlets.

Why do you come on these futile excursions?

Mr. Baines wants the residents
to feel they have a say

in how things are run at Bayview.

Pure tokenism, Jane.

Harvey Baines doesn't give a damn
on how things are run here.

Just so long as they are run profitably.

- Oh...you're so negative.
- I certainly am.

If there is one thing I am positive
about, it's being negative.

Try Tom. He loves that
sort of nonsense.

Yes, where is Tom today?

Isn't this his day for driving the
mobile library woman up the wall.

Oh, no. That's Tuesdays.

Wednesday is his save the whales day.

Is his blow-up whale in the dining room?

Oh, that's a point. Um, no, it isn't.

He can't have been in for breakfast.

Well, we better investigate.

Uh! I'll go...alone...It's policy.

What is?

Well...you know...uh...

Just supposing...well...

You mean, if Tom has fallen off the perch?

Oh, please, Diana...

Jane, as a one-time photojournalist
with a penchant for w*r zones,

I've seen hundreds of dead bodies.

Yes, but they were foreign.

Oh...Jane.

Come on! I'll come with you.

Oh, Diana...huh.

Oh, dear!

I mean, he's probably just slept in.

Oh...

It doesn't smell as if someone
had snuffed it in the night.

- Oh, Diana!
- Well...

usually the old bowels empty.
Gets a bit whiffy.

Oh...okay.

Oh...

Call an ambulance.

Tom.

Tom, can you hear me?

Tom! Can you hear me?

Course I can hear you. I'm not deaf.

Well, what's the matter?

I think I'm dying.

Oh, don't you bloody dare.

Were's the doctor?

It's all set up at
the local hospital.

There's nothing to be upset about, Diana.

-Jane, contact his family. -No, don't.
He can't stand them.

Please leave this to us, Diana!

He's my friend!

Then why are you shouting?

Because I'm going with him.

- Sorry, Mum, can't do that.
- Yes, of course I can.

- Diana, please.
- Oh, he's in good hands.

- Tom!
- Now just calm down, Diana.

- Tom! Bugger off!
- Ow!

Oh, no...

Oh. Excuse me...

How is he?

You'll have to talk to the doctor.

But I just want to know how he is.

Look, why don't you go and
get a nice cup of tea?

I have had sixteen cups of tea.

I want to know how he is.

He's comfortable.

Yes, well, I know he's
comfortable...he's in bed.

I want to know what is wrong with him.

I'm sorry. You really will
have to talk to the doctor.

Well, where is the sodding doctor?

Oh...

Oh...Tom, you great buffoon...

What do you think you're playing at?

Oh, Doctor!

Yes?

How is he?

He's comfortable

Oh, my god. Watch my lips.

How is he?

What is his state of health

Is he about to snuff it, or
does he want to go skiing.

Are you the wife?

The wife or do you mean the wife?

Do you mean, am I his wife?

Yes.

No, I am not his wife. I am his friend.

I'm sorry. I think I better speak
to his wife before his friend.

Then you better take a shovel.
She's been dead fifteen years.

In the circumstances...I think
that's a rather tasteless remark.

Do you mean he's about to join her?

I believe his son and
daughter-in-law are on their way.

Oh, God! He's as thick as a plank, and
she's something out of Twilight Zone.

Look...tell me!

I'm sorry. I can only speak to family.

Alright!

I am his wife! I am his common law wife.

We are at it, night and day! That is...

probably what put him
here in the first place.

Talk to me, ya bastard!

Doctor said we should wait here.

It's typical, isn't it?

The one night out in years,
and he has to go mess it up.

Marion...

Oh, God, look...a bag lady.

If he'd joined Bupa, he wouldn't
be here with the down and outs.

- Just sit down.
- Mmhmph.

Huh! Do you want me to get some coffee?

No thanks. I might sober up.

I doubt it.

Mmmm...smashing party.

Yes, dear.

That Simon Parsons squeezed my bottom.

Yes, dear.

Wicked!

Squeeze!

[Silly sound]

Geoffrey...

Yes, Marion?

Supposing...

What?

You know...

I mean...

Well, you know...

Your dad...

Yes?

[Sniffs] He's had a good run, hasn't he?

What?

We've got to face up to all possibilities.

Not now, dear!

I mean, we've been very good to him

- Well, of course. He's my father.
- Right! Family...

- Yes.
-We're all family.

Yes.

What's ours is his.

That's very nice of you Marion.

And what's his is ours. Hmmhmm.

Sorry?

Like the insurance...little bits of
silver, and that nice Persian rug.

Ah! It's her!

Miss Trent?

So nice of you to come...eventually.

What are you doing here?

Trying to find out how Tom is.

Well, he's fine. It's not too serious.

Not a proper heart att*ck, at all.

He can never get anything right.

The doctor called it a mild occlusion.
It's a sort of warning.

The doctor spoke to you?

Of course.

Well, he didn't speak to me.

Probably didn't like the look of you.
Mhhhhm.

I thought you were a bag lady.

Oh!

Dad?

Hello, Geoffrey.

Marion...

We've been so worried about
you, haven't we, Geoffrey.

Absolutely, and we really
think that, when you get out

of here, you ought to come
home and stay with us.

Only if you want to, of course.

No, thank you. I'll go back to
Bayview, if it's all the same to you.

- But why? - Well, you know how it
is. Want to keep an eye on things.

Like my little bits of
silver...and my nice Persian rug.

- Got the Porsche, old thing?
- Certainly have.

- Then let's go.
- But, Dad...

- Tom...should you be leaving like this?
- No.

Well, then maybe you shouldn't.

Well, of course I shouldn't.
Then why are you?

Oh, God, woman...

Don't you ever listen to your own lectures?

To stay alive, one must be bloody-minded
and contrary at all times.

Well, maybe I was just theorizing

Oh, hold this bag and shut up.

Oh...my god...a little weary.

Please, Tom, go back.

Oh, no. Got to get out of here.

I can feel the clammy hand of something
or other crawling along the walls.

I've been there, you know.
I've been there.

We must get out of here.

Oh, dear.

You think the party's still going?

Well, he's had a good
long sleep, and despite

discharging himself in
such a caviler fashion,

he seems to be recovering quite well.

Physically, that is...

More than I am.

Do you do head transplants?

Physically, you say?

Yes, it's the state of his mind that
gives us the most cause for concern.

You see, when he was in the hospital,
he asked us to pull the plug on him.

You should have listened to him.

Miriam, will you please be quiet.

It's not an uncommon request.

He went on to say that most
of his chums had d*ed,

and he wanted to be
able to join them.

Yes, we get a lot of that around here.

Death seems to come in waves.

One goes, and all the
others pop off in sympathy.

Not that we encourage it, of course.

Well, no, it's not policy, is it?

It would appear that there is
one person that he likes.

Yes, that's me. He like me.

[Laughs nervously.] I'm his son.

Someone called...

Diana Trent

Yuck.

Yes...Tom and Miss Trent do
spend a lot of time together

Mores the pity.

Well, maybe she could help
to get his head sorted out.

She couldn't get her underwear sorted out.

Miriam!

How do you mean, doctor?

Well, is this Miss Trent...

by any chance...

a kind...
considerate...

caring sort of person?

- No. - No.
- No. - No.

He's what?

He's a little...in shock.

Well, of course he's in shock.
He thought he was going to die.

Apparently, with Tom,
it goes much deeper.

- What do you mean?
- You know Dad's a bit odd?

- A bit of a fantasy dreamer?
- Aren't we all?

You've got to have a dream.

♫ To make a dream come true. ♫
- What?

South Pacific...

Mitzi Gaynor...

♫ Happy talk, keep talking happy talk,
Talk about things you'd like to do, ♫

Who did you way was disturbed?

Apparently, Tom has gone
into a bit of a depression.

Well, won't to him any harm. He's
always been far too cheerful.

The doctor feels you're the
one to get him out of it.

Me?

He seems to think that Tom
has developed some sort of

psychological dependence on you.

What am I supposed to do about that?

We were hoping that you
could cheer him up.

Cheer him up? Me?

I spend my life trying to depress people

Well, it is rather important.

What if I don't succeed?

Well, he isn't very stable right now...

Cheer him up...huh.

Cheerful. Cheerful. Cheerful.

I haven't been cheerful since .

That was only 'cause I got typhoid.

Oh, god.

What a wonderful day!

What a splendid day!

Ha ha haaoh, god. What a bloody awful day.

Hello, Tom!

What a wonderful day!

What's wrong with your face?

I'm smiling.

Then don't.

But I can't help it. I feel wonderful.

I'm full of...
full of inner...

joy...

Have you been putting gin
in your corn flakes again?

I'm happy.

You've no reason to be.
You look like a giant clam.

Only older.

Don't you call me old!

That's better.

More like your usual foul self.

What makes you...

happy?

I like the way my painting is going.

Oh...

- Do you want to see it?
- No, thank you.

I wouldn't want to see something that
is still going to grow after I've gone.

Gone where, Tom?

Gone across the Styxian
waters to the other side...

of the Black River.

You mean Battersea's?

The Empty Beyond...

How do you know that The Beyond is empty?

I went there yesterday, at the hospital.

I left my body, you know.

I was looking down at me.

Then I was out in the corridor, looking
down and listening to you all.

That's how I knew what that
dreadful Marion was up to.

Fascinating.

Cold.

And did you see...

the tunnel of light...

and the heavenly choirs, and...

all those ghastly relatives you
thought you'd gotten rid of?

No...

I was alone.

Oh, then it was a shock reaction, Tom.

If it had been a near death reaction,
then you'd have had all the other jazz.

But you don't believe in the afterlife.

Well, I...I keep an open mind.

I think...

Well, I think you probably
get what you believe in.

And you've got your faith...

So, for you, death should be just the
beginning of another big adventure.

But suppose I'm wrong, and you're right...

Suppose that they do just rot in a box,

or even worse, suppose Heaven is just some
sort of...what did you call it...

Albanian Disneyland...where everyone
is so nice, you just want to throw up.

I was just talking, Tom.
I'm sure Heaven is fine.

It's different things to different people.

But to you...Heaven would
be some sort of...

some sort of Shangri-La,
full of heroes and...

optimists, and people shoving
flowers in their ears.

- To you?
- To me?

To me, Heaven would be...
Huh...

noisy New York bar, full of cynical,
drunken, loud-mouthed journalists,

all pretending to be Hemingway, all
telling huge lies to one another.

Then again...

Maybe...this is it.

Here.

Maybe the Bayview Retirement
Village is the afterlife.

Maybe we d*ed at the Pearly Gates
at the bottom of the drive.

And Harvey Baines is Saint Peter.

The thing I really hate about death...

is the lack of a time table.

You can't look up when your
last train is leaving.

The Bayview to Heaven Express.

Oh, come on, Tom.

Then again...

Wait a minute...

Ha...huh...

Maybe I can look it up.

Huh?

If I write my own time table,

then I can decide when
the last train leaves.

No, Tom, not su1c1de.

Yes, that's it!

Then, I'll know when it's going to
happen, and I can put it in my diary!

Yes, that's it.

Wonderful! Ha ha ha ha.

See you later.

Aw, crap.

Or not, as the case may be.

He what?

He wants to k*ll himself.

Ho, dear.

What did you say to him? I asked you to
cheer him up, not push him over the edge.

Well, I failed, didn't I?

We've never had a su1c1de at Bayview.

Plenty of deaths, but never
a...do it yourself job

Maybe I should have
a word with him.

I don't think he's in that
much of a hurry, Jane.

We'd better get his family back.

Oh, don't be so thick.

It's spending all those years with
that gormless troglodyte of a son

and his screeching parrot of a wife

that's made him the unbalanced
old bat he is today.

Leave it to me, I think.

Well, what do you know about anything?

Diana, I'll have you know: I trained
for three week to run this place.

People management was a very
important part of that training.

I should be able to sort this out.

I am a man of action.

Aren't I, Jane?

Oh, yes, Harvey.

Jane, you're touching me.

Sorry.

Tuesday: Heart att*ck.

It wasn't a heart att*ck, Tom.

Wednesday: Discussed life
and death with Diana.

Now, you mustn't listen to Diana, Tom.

Thursday: d*ed.

Which day am I to be buried?

I don't want to leave
an untidy diary behind.

Well, Monday. Cost too much
in overtime on the weekends.

Harvey?

Monday: Buried.

You're not going to be buried at all, Tom.

I do not wish to be cremated.

You're not going to be cremated either.

What're you going to do, then?

Throw me over the back fence?

You're not going to die, Tom.

Not ever?

- Not tomorrow.
- What's wrong with tomorrow?

Well, it's...it...buh...

What's wrong with tomorrow, Jane?

Uh, well it's, uh...

- Thursday!
- It's Thursday.

It it against Bayview policy
to die on a Thursday?

It's against Bayview policy for
residents to die before their due time.

But it is my due time

How do you know that?

It's in my diary.

d*ed Thursday. If I die on the Friday

I'll be a day late, and
I hate unpunctuality.

It will be bad for
me...for us...for Bayview.

I mean, if people think that, every time
they leave their elderly relatives here,

they're going to top
themselves on a Thursday...

well, people won't send anybody
here, and we'll go broke...

and have to close.

Then my passing will not have been in vain.

That's not funny,.

I'd miss you, Tom.

That's very nice of you, but if you don't
mind, it's time for my sleep, now.

I've a loooong daaaay before me tomorrow.

Well...

not as long as usual, if
you know what I mean.

Good night!

I'd like you to have these when I die.
Please accept it.

- Oh, no. No.
-Yes. Yes.

- Oh, no.
- It's awfully good...

Hello. I'd like you to have that.
See...

- No. No. - Yes, I want you to
have it. Thank you very much.

Right!

We'll see about that, Mr. Ballard.

- Try it on.
- Oh, yes.

Yes!

So, you're okay, Dad.

Well, I fine, Geoffrey.
Thank you.

Mr Baines said he was
worried about you...

No, probably mixing me
up with someone else.

...said you were feeling a bit suicidal

Well, I was, but I'm not any longer.

Especially since you
didn't bring Marion.

She didn't mean to say that...about
the silver and the Persian rug.

She was just exercising
the words, was she?

She means well, Dad.

Geoffrey...

Suppose you...
never saw me again...

- Dad! - No, no. Not that you
won't, of course, but...

just in case...
I'd like to give you...

one piece of fatherly advice.

Yes, Dad.

Marion does not mean well...
She's an evil little harpy.

Dad, I really must object.

Take her down to the old quarry pond...

tie a rope around her neck...
and shove her in.

Dad, this is not like you.

You've always been such a
kind and gentle person.

The kind and gentle people of this world
sometimes just don't have the courage

to be as bloody as they'd
really like to be.

I don't know what to say.
I'm shocked.

Eh...

And I blame myself about you too, Geoffrey.

What's wrong with me?

You're wet, Geoffrey.

Desperately wet and spineless!

You're hellbent on being just as big a
wishy-washy nobody as your dad.

I'm going. You're obviously
not yourself today.

And the first thing you must do to
regain a smidgen of self-respect...

is to get rid of that woman.

Wire her up to the National
Grid or something.

Goodbye, Dad.

This is all your fault.

He was a nice old man 'til he met you.

Go away!

Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm.

Ah!

Don't you go away.

Hmm hmm.

I want you to have these.

No, thank you.

But they're all I've got—my
most treasure possessions.

They're no good to me.

Why not?

Because I'm coming with you.

You're what?

Yes..you're right!
What is the point any longer?

We're just a...a waste of space.

I'm bored rigid most of the time.

Might as well join you on
The Last Great Adventure.

So...

How we going to do it?

Do what?

Well, croak ourselves.

Ooh! Ooh ah. Ah!

Pills?

I haven't really though that far.

I think pills are a
bit namby pamby, myself.

But you don't feel anything.

What a waste of time, if
you don't feel anything.

What do you gain from it?
Pain is experience, Tom!

Experience for what?

Well, for its own sake.

Now, if we were to sh**t ourselves...

there would be a moment when we would
know what if felt like to be sh*t.

Pwww.

We would be more complete human beings.

Metaphysically, that is.

Physically, of course, we would be
slightly less complete human beings.

- No, I don't think I could sh**t myself.
- Oooh!

What about the old necktie
party, then? Hmm.

We could string ourselves up outside
the dining room at lunch time.

That'd curdle their custard.

Oh! I don't think so.

Oh, no. You're probably right

All that gurgling and twitching. And your
eyeballs popping out all over the place.

Diana.

Blackened tongues flapping in the breeze...

Do you mind?

Wrist slashing!

- Eew.
- My niece is always trying that

- Oooh.
- Every wet Wednesday.

Save herself a lot of trouble if she
had zippers put into her wrist.

Please! Diana!

I hear drowning's quite nice.

You get to see the whole of your
life pass before your eyes.

No!

No, you're probably right. Who'd
want a rerun of your boring life?

Well now, what else is there?
Haaaa...

Poison? Exhaust fumes?

I don't know!

Well, you better think of something.
I haven't put us down for tea.

You thinking of starving to death?

Look. It's none of your business!

It's my death...

my idea...

my little moment.

Hmm.

The only reason you want
to join me is because you

can't stand not being the
center of attention!

You've ruined everything.

You're not going to do it. Ha ha, ha ha.

No! I'm not.

You never were.

I might have done.

Might.

Felt like it.

Not you...

You think I haven't got the guts.

No! I think you've got more sense.

Ha!

I mean, I wouldn't have
done it, because I

Well...I might be a late
developer in something.

In the art wold, hmm.

- Huh...
- This...this painting.

It could be a great painting...
The first of many.

Oh...

See, while you're still breathing...

there is still something
you can do with your life.

Who knows?

You could still be a famous
bullfighter or astronaut.

Not very likely.

Alright. You could be a
famous mediocrity, then.

So will you be.

Beg your pardon?

Eh, that's the worst
painting I've ever seen.

It's a very good painting.

No, it's not!

It's terrible!

I mean...look at that tree.
It looks like a naked man.

Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

Yes, you've got no talent at all.

I have got talent.

No, you're hopeless.

- I am not!
- Really...

You're useless! You're as much use as I am.
Quite the worst painting I've ever seen.

Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh!

Dreadful! Ha ha ha ha.

Well, thank you, Diana!

You've cheered me up immensely. Ha!

Ha ha. That's a terrible painting. Ha!

Give it back!

You gave it to me.

It was just a lone. Give it back!

No!

I want it back!

- You can't have it.
- Please.

I am grateful, Diana. How did you do it?

I deliberately painted
a terrible picture...

so he would think he wasn’t
the only one with problems.

It doesn't look that terrible to me.

Really?

Then again, when it comes
to art appreciation...

I'm a complete moron.

See you later.

Well done, God.