Carry On Loving Page #7

Me? What would I want my money back for?

You've done a splendid job here.

Have I?

Splendid.

Grubb. Jenny Grubb.

Let's have a look at this.

Miss Jenny Grubb. Age: 24 years.

Hair:
brownish. Eyes: didn't notice.

Height:
5' 6". Never had any.

Eh? Oh, hobbies.

Yeah, well, that'll soon be changed.

Well, this is it.

- All right?

- Mm. Sexy.

Ooh, you! You'd say a lumber room was sexy.

Only if I was rummaging through

your odds and ends.

Have you got in here again?

(Jenny claps her hands)

- Come on out.

(Meows)

Oh, it's the porter's, darned thing.

It's always sneaking in here.

Shoo, Cooking Fat, shoo!

(Jenny claps)

- Cooking Fat?

- Yes.

They can't call it that, surely?

Well, that's what it sounds like.

Come and get comfy.

Here, are you sure

your flatmates won't be back?

No, not until after 11.

- God, I really fancy you, Jenny.

- And I liked you the first time I met you.

Oh, let me get at you.

(Crunch)

- Oh, what the hell am I sitting on?

Urgh!

They're not yours, surely?

No, they're Gaye's. She really is a flat mate.

Come here, you little raver.

Oh, steady on. There's plenty of time.

And plenty of inclination.

Mm.

- Oh, Terry, stop it.

- Hm?

- What are you doing?

- I'm looking for the zip.

- You've got a sauce.

- Well, where is the darned thing?

As if I'd tell you, anyway!

- It's on the other side.

- Ah.

- That's better.

- Ooh!

- What's the matter?

- You've got cold hands.

- Oh, Jenny...

- Oh, Terry...

(Zipper)

Oh, sorry, Jenny, I didn't know you were here.

I didn't know you were here.

Sally, this is my night. Wednesday.

I know. It's all right. I'm going out.

As soon as I find my blue sweater, anyway.

Have you had it?

Not yet.

No, I have not had your blue sweater,

and if you must go on looking for it in here,

will you put something on?

Oh, sorry.

But I've got to find it.

Oh, I know. I bet Gaye's had it again.

Do you want me to close the door?

Yes, please.

Oh, Terry, I'm so sorry.

Not at all. It's a good job

she wasn't looking for her pants... or was it?

- Oh, Terry...

- Oh, Jenny...

(Zipper)

I found it.

(Zipper)

- Hooray!

Ooh, sorry. I won't bother you any more.

Do you want me to close the door?

BOTH:
Yes!

Oh, Terry, I'm so sorry.

Don't mention it. Don't mention it.

You are sweet.

- Oh, Jenny...

- Oh, Terry...

(Zipper)

- Oh, blimey!

(Zipper)

Men! I've had them up to here.

Oh, no.

Gaye, what are you doing here?

It is my flat, isn't it?

Yes, but it's Wednesday. My night.

Oh, I'm sorry, but I've had another flaming row

with Adrian and I couldn't stand him any longer.

Gaye, I've got a friend here.

Oh, well, you don't have to worry.

I'm going to bed.

I'm glad this is your night.

I'd hate to be here when it wasn't.

- Oh, Terry...

- Oh, Jenny...

Give me a number between one and ten.

Seven.

You lose. Get your clothes off.

(Zipper)

(Doorbell rings)

(Zipper)

If that's Bertie,

tell him I won't be a minute, will you?

- Do it yourself, I'm busy.

(Zipper)

(Doorbell rings)

If that's Adrian, tell him to go to hell!

(Doorbell rings)

- Oh, I could scream!

(Zipper)

Ow!

(Persistent doorbell)

All right. Where is she? Where is that cow?

Gaye's in her room

and she doesn't want to see you.

- Well, I want to see her.

- I'm trying to entertain!

Oh. How do you do?

Hello.

- Open up, there! I want to talk to you!

- Adrian!

I'll break the door down!

- Adrian!

- What?

That is a cupboard!

Oh.

Sorry.

Open up. I want to talk to you.

Well, I don't want to talk to you.

- I'll stay here all night if I have to.

- I had a nasty feeling he was going to say that.

Well? What have you got to say?

Darling, you know I can't exist without you.

You seem to be able to exist with all those

other models you keep messing about with.

Oh, they mean nothing to me! You know that.

Oh, Terry!

(Doorbell rings)

Oh, good. Company.

Oh, I'm fed up with this!

I might as well be back home.

- Yes?

- Oh, hello, Jenny. Is Sally ready?

No. But do come in.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, hello.

Oh, I'm sorry if I'm barging in.

Do go on with what you were doing.

Chance'd be a fine thing!

Quite a nice evening.

Charming.

I thought it would rain earlier.

- Really?

- Yes.

Anyway, we'll probably get it tonight.

We'll be bloody lucky if we do, mate.

(Door opens)

Hello, Bertie. Sorry to have kept you waiting.

Oh, that's all right.

Well? What are we going to do, then?

Well, if you'd like to stop in and make

some aeroplanes, I've brought some tops.

Er, no, I don't think that would

be a very good idea. Not tonight, Bertie.

All right. If that's the way it's to be,

I shall kill myself!

- I will. I mean it.

- Oh, no. No, Adrian, don't! Don't!

- Not in here.

- I shall shoot myself.

Go on. Shoot the lot,

then maybe we'll get some peace.

- Goodbye.

- Oh, stop him, somebody!

Oh, take cover!

Boo!

Aren't you getting tired of following me about?

Excuse, gentle sir.

Me no spoking very good the English.

Oh, gawd! A Bombay Bond!

Ha-ha! Fooled him that time.

Suspect left Cock Inn,

Saloon Bar, and proceeded back to office.

- Sophie, you're back!

- Only to clear my desk.

Come on. Surely you're not still suspicious

of Esme Crowfoot and me?

Ino longer care where you go,

or what you do, or to whom.

Oh, don't be like that. How about dinner tonight?

Just like old times?

You mean, like old time? And I paid the bill.

All right. So it's my turn tonight.

No, thank you. Anyway,

I'm having dinner with Mr Snooper at his home.

- Alone?

- Certainly.

I hope you've got your tin drawers on.

- (Laughs)

- Mr Snooper and I are to be married.

Have you gone raving mad?

You don't know anything about the bloke.

- He's a gentleman.

- I knew there was something wrong with him.

Well, have you any alternative suggestions

as to my future?

- Yes, of course I have.

- Well?

Stay here with me.

It's been all right the last ten years.

- Goodbye, Sidney.

- Wait a minute, Sophie. Don't leave me like that.

I'll be lost without you. So will the business.

Ineed a woman. You know that.

Then I suggest you put the details on the

appropriate card, and stick it in your computer!

All right, go, then!

See if I care.

Marvellous. Give a woman the best years

of your life and look what happens.

Mr bleedin' Snooper...

Snooper. What's he got, anyway?

Snooper, Percival.

Percival! Cor blimey, there's a good start!

Age 43, handsome,

well-mannered, sexually backward.

That's him all right.

He doesn't know whether he's coming or going.

Hobbies:
reading, walking, playing bridge,

and poking...

around antique shops.

Occupation:
marriage guidance counsellor.

Fancy! Well, I think it's time

I did a bit of marriage guiding myself.

Hello, Esme.

Sidney? You've got a nerve ringing me.

I was wondering if you could

do me a small favour, darling?

No, not that. Could you meet me tonight?

I can't. You know how jealous Gripper gets.

Even more so now we're engaged.

Engaged? Congratulations.

You know I wouldn't bother you

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