Expresso Bongo Page #3

Tell me first

what you thought of my number.

Well...

Well, Maisie...

You're a highly talented girl, but...

- You didn't like it.

- Well...

- It's a small voice, Maisie.

- It's getting bigger every lesson!

Well, yes, but, um...

Oh, be like me, doll, give up gracefully.

Thanks for nothing, pig!

Look at that bed!

How can you live like this?

Come on, let's make it.

Now, look, Maisie,

there's no point making it...

I said, make it!

Don't act like we're married.

It spoils everything.

Nobody else in the world is so

pathological about the word marriage.

Come, straighten these.

Well, haven't I been faithful to you

for two years? As far as you know.

You want the Tin Pan Alley award?

I'm only faithful

because I'm not married to you.

Only a married man is unfaithful, Maisie.

The sheet comes

before the blanket, nowadays.

- So, my voice doesn't move you?

- Oh, sure I'm moved, doll,

but this is no playground.

It's a jungle.

And it eats up pretty little birds

like you in great quantities.

They get swallowed up.

Nobody ever knows they've gone,

nobody ever misses them.

Are you trying to tell me,

in your tender way, you'd miss me?

If you don't know already,

how can I tell you?

You've got a wonderful way

of not saying a thing.

I don't say it because maybe I'd mean it.

And anything I mean,

I'm not foolhardy enough to say.

Can't you say it just once?

Say what you mean in this jungle,

and you're a dead jackal.

How did I ever tangle with you?

You're not my girlhood dream at all!

I want you to know that.

- Now, Maisie...

- Give me the pillow!

All I'm saying is, enjoy your lessons,

but don't expect too much,

because practically

nobody's a star, Maisie.

Including most stars.

What's with this Bert kid, then?

Well, this boy's our stake in

the future of British show business,

and I'm gonna manage him.

I'm just not with you

the way your mind works.

You're always finding talent

that turns out to be untalented.

I just knew, against my own intelligence,

which I insult every day

of my working life,

that one of these boys would make it.

But not me.

Look, Maisie,

I've only got a very small organisation.

One artiste is all I can handle at a time.

You just don't think of me

that way, do you?

Well, I do that way, Maisie.

But not that way.

Well, at least he can't give you

what I can give you, I hope.

Hope justified!

You see what a waste of time it is

making a bed?

Cor, look! Who's he?

Boys, boys...

- Yes?

- Mrs Rudge?

- What if?

- Is your son, Bert, at home?

- No.

- No?

What's he been doing? I'll kill him!

No, no need for violence, Mrs Rudge.

I bring tidings of joy to you

and the entire Rudge tribe.

Hey, what is all this?

- Who's he?

- Where's young Bert?

Nicer type of probation officer

these days.

- Hiya, guv.

- Well, there's my boy!

Now, you listen to me, mister,

he don't tell me what he gets up to

at nights hanging around the West End,

and I don't want to know.

Don't speak to the gentleman

like that, Mum.

He's the bloke I told you about.

Gonna be my manager. He's gonna make me.

Make you what?

- Someone people dig.

- That's it, Mrs Rudge.

Mmm?

Our boy is gonna be

the idol of teenagers everywhere.

Recordings, variety bookings.

Why, he'll even open up

shoe shops for cash.

And it only requires your signature.

I ain't signing. It's all a swindle.

Whenever I ever signed anything,

it's always been a swindle for me.

Hello?

I'd like you to meet my new guv'nor, Dad.

I'll have a bitter.

The pleasure is mine,

Mr Rudge, and congratulations.

And perhaps you'd prefer to sign.

- Oh, is he the man from the...

- Success, Mr Rudge, any moment now.

You have produced one of

the major talents in Britain today.

Yes, you, by marrying Mrs Rudge

and begetting Herbert,

have contributed in no small measure

to the pleasure of hundreds

of little people like yourselves.

Oh, poor bastards.

All we need is the signature and

a peep into the boy's birth certificate.

Don't you dare!

Now, Mrs Rudge,

when did you say the lad was born?

I didn't.

And mind your own bloody business.

It's nobody's business when he was born!

Now, look, Mrs Rudge.

It's just in the case of minors,

we have to get things right for the book.

I don't want no nosy parkers

nosing 'round my marriage business!

Dad, tell him to belt up and get out!

But think what a difference this will make

to your standard of living, Mrs Rudge.

- Here you are, handsome.

- Oh, lovely!

- Here, give me that back!

- Now, Mrs Rudge...

Oh, that's none of your business!

But I'm his guiding light,

his helping hand, his mentor.

I see.

Ah-ha. Oh, I follow.

My dear Mrs Rudge,

it can happen to the best of us.

My own mother. Need I say more?

That's right, Myrtle,

you always was too touchy about...

You, shut up! You had your say years ago!

You're his mum, I'm his old man.

It's all that matters, ain't it, mate?

This just makes for

an extra bond between us.

We don't want all that shouting

all over the place.

But you're the only one

that's shouting, Mrs Rudge.

- Oh, yes. Definitely, yes.

- You belt up!

So, come on, now.

There's no need for self-consciousness

amongst friends.

Just sign this little go-ahead

to handle Herbert's career.

- Why should I?

- Where the dots are, Mrs Rudge.

That little swine's never

brought me more than two quid a week!

- Why should I do anything for him?

- Cor, haven't I got expenses?

- I've got a lot of expenses.

- What about me then?

What do I got for your

18 years except expenses?

How much do you think

this haircut costs? Peanuts?

Twelve bob a week, I tell you.

- Down, boy.

- Well, she'll always on at me. Always.

This isn't pie in the sky

we're talking about.

Why, you'll even see

your boy on television.

The beloved face of your own little Bert

reflected in the hot cod's eye

which watches every home in Britain!

- We got no money for television!

- Sign, madam,

and you will have a contemporary home

fit for British voters

to watch television in.

How do I know what all this mean, all this

whereas, where if and wherefrom.

I don't wanna know about any of that.

It's an insurance for your future.

Have kids. Go on, have kids and get done!

I don't know what we have 'em for!

He's a good boy, Mrs Rudge.

He'll look after you fine,

if you'll just sign.

Have kids... I've got this drunk.

He can't have two pennies in his pocket

without being a good-time Charlie

with drinks all 'round for every

Tom, Dick and Harry.

- Just sign...

- And that Edna there.

Always after the boys.

Where's she going to end up? And him!

Oh, stow it, stow it!

This is all very highly embarrassing

to a stranger...

I don't know. Definitely, I don't know

why we have kids for!

I'll tell you what you had kids for.

So you can bleed 'em white!

- Call yourself a mother?

- Don't you talk to me like that.

- Come on, you talented little Bertie.

- And don't come back!

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