Ethel & Ernest Page #6

- No.

Nothing new, different?

No.

That green car?

Well, what about it?

Triumph Herald, it wasn't there yesterday.

There's always different cars

stuck outside our house nowadays.

Well, that one is special.

What's special about it?

It's ours!

Oh, don't be daft, Ernest.

Come on, dear. Get in.

Oh, er...

I don't like to. I've

still got my pinny on.

- And I haven't done my hair.

- Come on!

Is it really yours?

Ours, darling.

Shut the door, we'll go for a spin.

I didn't know you could drive a proper car.

Letter from Raymond.

Crumbs! The average

male manual worker earns

13, 2s and 11d a week. Blimey!

- I must be below average, then.

- Oh, it doesn't apply to you, Ernest.

You're not a manual worker.

Oh, he's going to be a teacher.

Oh, good. That's a bit more regular.

- It's in a college of art.

- That's better.

Thank God it's not just an art school.

- Part-time.

- Well, part-time is no good.

That's more for women.

One-day a week, look.

Blimey.

He gets almost as much for one day

as I get for the whole bloody week.

Ernest!

Oh, "See you on the 30th.

"I'll be bringing... Jean with me."

Here they come, Ette.

Hello, Mum. Dad.

This is Jean.

Hello, Jean.

Hello.

Hello, dear.

Oh! Look at you.

Here's a comb.

Mum, I haven't seen you for a month.

I've just brought my

future wife to meet you.

I do not want a comb!

Right then.

I'll, um... put the kettle on.

Sorry, Mum.

Oh, come and sit down, dear.

Lovely to see you.

And you too, Jane.

Jean, Mum.

I thought you'd like...

Oh, thank you, dear.

Whatever is it?

- It's a bottle of wine, Mum.

- Wine!

- Oh, dear. I don't know...

- Got a corkscrew anywhere?

Wine! Oh, dear.

- It's all right, Mum. It won't explode.

- I don't like bangs.

Oh!

- Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad.

- Cheerio, son.

I do wish you'd get a nice car, dear.

A van is cheaper, Mum.

- No purchase tax!

- But a car is so much nicer.

Bye!

- She was a nice kid, wasn't she?

- She didn't say much.

She's shy. Very shy.

Like you, sweetheart.

Hair all over the shop.

- Too tall.

- She can't help that, dear.

- She's all legs.

- Never mind her legs, Ernest.

She needs a perm and

he needs a good haircut.

Oh, no.

He says they're going to get

married in a registry office.

- Well, that's the modern way, Ette.

- Oh, it's horrible.

Yes, but neither of them is religious.

I don't want him to be religious,

I just want him to get married in a church!

It's so much nicer.

And when are you going

to start a family, dear?

Well, I don't know, really, Mum.

- Probably not at all.

- Goodness me, why ever not?

I want to be a granny.

Well, Jean's got problems, Mum.

Brain trouble.

- Brain trouble?

- Yeah.

Well, that's what I call

it, as a sort of joke.

She goes in and out of the loony bin.

You mean she's...

- She's mental?

- Yeah, well, that's one word for it.

The other word is schizophrenia.

Oh, dear.

Poor thing.

So, I won't be a granny after all.

Never mind, Mum.

What a dump.

"Dump"?!

Mum, the Government has designated this

an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

An AONB... it's official.

Well, I still say it's a dump.

The South Downs are at

the end of the garden.

I give up, I give up.

Son, it's the sort of place

I always dreamed about.

I know, Dad.

I know.

They seem very happy down there,

despite the schizo business.

Yes, I suppose so.

I was hoping he'd send his washing home.

Oh, Et, don't be daft. He's married!

Yes, I know.

What's that?

My retirement certificate.

37 years' service with the Royal

Arsenal Co-operative Society.

I'm not sure I want that

on the front room wall.

Well, that's where it's going, Ethel.

It's one small step for man...

...one giant leap for mankind.

Cor blimey!

Man on the moon, Ette.

- Oh.

- Man on the moon.

Fantastic, eh?

What's he doing there?

Well, just walking about a bit.

And then what?

Come back, I suppose.

Perhaps they'll have a picnic.

That'd be nice.

I think the tea would blow away

when it came out of the thermos.

Why? Is it windy up there?

No, it's gravity, dear.

Oh, I see.

Look. He's going to pick up

some pebbles to take home.

Just like kiddies at the seaside.

Turn it off, will you?

Did you have a good journey, dear?

Oh, yes. OK, Mum.

Fine, fine.

Much traffic on the road?

Well, the A23 was a bit

choked up, wasn't it?

But after Sutton, it sort of

thinned out a bit and, you know...

got better.

Here's a comb, dear.

Thanks, Mum.

Remember we used to bring the pram up here?

It's me in the pram now.

They used to do nice teas in

the balcony before the war.

Waitresses in aprons and caps.

We never did go, did we, dear?

Yes. It was lovely.

The yobbos smashed all the windows.

Well, that's your Labour Party for you.

- Mr. Biggs! Mr. Briggs!

- What?

Is there a telephone? I

need to call an ambulance.

Downstairs, Doctor. Front room.

Ethel?

Why are they all staring at me?

Oh, they're not staring at

you, Mum. It's the television.

They've put it right by your bed.

I don't like them staring at me and

I don't like being in Charity Ward.

It doesn't mean charity, Mum.

It's a girl's name.

What's that music?

I can hear music.

Carols, Mum.

On the television. It's Christmas.

There's the tree, look.

Oh, I hope I'll be home

in time for Christmas.

- When is it?

- It was yesterday, Mum.

You had your presents yesterday.

Look at all your cards.

Mm? Lovely flowers.

Yes, lovely.

Aren't I a lucky girl?

Listen, dear.

Who was that old man in here just now?

Oh, Mum.

That was Dad.

Dad?

You know, Ernest?

Your husband.

My husband?

Yes.

Not Victor McLagen?

No, Mum.

I thought he was dead.

Lovely...

lovely flowers, Mum.

Oh, yes. Lovely.

Aren't I a lucky girl?

Son?

Is that you?

Yes.

The hospital, they just phoned.

- Oh, right.

- She's...

I'm going up there.

- I'll leave now.

- OK.

- I'll see you there.

- Bye, Dad.

Steady on, old son.

Steady on.

Why's she on a trolley.

I don't know, son.

Look, bloody tissues and

things right by her face.

They've put her teeth in all crooked.

I know, son.

I don't know.

I still keep laying

the table for two, duck.

Daft, isn't it, Susie puss?

Nice daffs, aren't they?

...Retailers tell the

Government they accept...

I'll get cocoa in a minute, dear.

...employers offered

to resume paying for...

Goodnight, Susie.

Argh!

Oh!

Argh!

Aargh!

Ohh!

It's OK, Susie.

I suppose I'd better get the

Salvation Army to take it all away.

I grew it from a pip.

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