Personal Services Page #3

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Sexy bugger.

- Da-da!

- Shirley!

- Christine.

- Dolly, look who's here.

- I can see.

- Dolly.

- Another couple of weeks, we'll have one.

- Listen to her. What's she doing?

French polishing.

Put yourself in the hands of an expert.

Her doing French?

I don't even know what it means. I don't.

I just copied it off another notice.

Christine, French polishing!

What? Is that what it is? French polishing?

Oh, bloody Ada!

- I'd better change that notice quick.

- Er, excuse me, ladies.

Morton, ex-Wing Commander, retired.

- Oh, yes. You rang.

- That is correct.

I have a dilapidated piece of mahogany veneer

in dire need of renovation.

- Can you help?

- What? Yes, come on.

- Soon polish it up for you.

- Oh, jolly good.

Step this way.

Have it looking like new in no time.

Wing Commander! Don't believe a word of it.

in bra and panties.

- Shut up!

- Yes, madam.

- Filthy mind.

- Yes, madam.

- Quite a shine on that.

- Indeed.

It's coming along nicely, Auntie Christine.

- Would you like a go?

- Oh, no, no. You're doing very nicely.

Why not do it together?

- You dirty old sod.

- Yes, madam, I'm certainly that, madam.

Oh! Police, love.

You're nicked.

Pass me a tissue, Wing Commander,

there's a dear.

They've dropped the brothel

and immoral earnings charges.

- Insufficient evidence.

- That lets Dolly off.

That only leaves the charge for soliciting.

You'll be in and out in two minutes.

- How? How was I soliciting?

- A doddle. Just plead guilty.

I was on the pavement,

looking at your Arab's car.

- I was not soliciting.

- Par for the course, dear.

Look at all these men. I know all their secrets.

That's why they want to lock us up.

- Don't get deep, Dolly.

- Will it be in the Harlow New Town Gazette?

I can see my dad's face.

My sister's wedding, Saturday.

He's a nasty little sh*t.

Needs a good whipping.

What are you looking at?

You looking at my tits?

He's looking at my tits.

Arrest him for looking at my tits.

Too young to be a policeman. Still a virgin.

Bet you could change all that.

Painter, please.

Painter. Painter!

- Drive a car?

- Yeah.

- Drive a big car, do you?

- Yeah.

Thought so.

- We're on.

- Right. Guilty.

Guilty. All my fault.

What do you reckon?

She'll need a holiday after this lot.

She's very good.

I never said she wasn't.

- What news, ladies?

- What are you doing here?

Interested party. Character witness.

Has she gone in yet?

- Just put your bum down there.

- Thank you.

- Hello, Shirl.

- Hello, love.

She's good, you know. She's got talent.

- That is correct.

- How do you know?

I'm an expert in these matters.

We should go in together, the three of us.

Take that big flat of hers,

the one with the pink bedroom.

- Cater for kinks?

- Popozogolous and gymslips. 50 quid a throw.

Strictly kinky people.

The future lies in kinky people.

Guilty!

Ah, madam...

Guilty!

Come on.

Know his problem?

I can read him, no trouble. Can't get it up.

God knows why I'm sitting in the front.

- Royalty in the back, dear.

- Pull over, Sydney.

- Over there.

- What?

"What?" You'll be saying balls

to the general next. Over there!

Come on, David. In.

- Why do I have to wear my school uniform?

- You'll wear your uniform. Put your cap on. In.

It's all crooked.

There we are. That's better. Give us a smile.

Pull up.

- Where?

- In front of the church, for goodness' sake!

- I can't park there.

- Yes, you can. Pull up.

- You need a chauffeur, that's what you need.

- Be quiet.

- And a butler.

- You and your little willy, keep quiet.

- What?

- Balls to the general. Shut up.

- I haven't got a little willy.

- It's your most striking feature.

Fine conversation to be having

in front of your son.

- Hello. Hello, Auntie Winnie.

- Hello, darling.

Come on, get a bloody move on.

Cap.

I can see your knickers, Dolly.

Hello, Dad.

Hello, Lizzie. We're here!

- I thought it must be you.

- Hello.

Oh, you look lovely, Lizzie, you really do.

I wish it was me. Mum should be here.

I wish Mum was here to see you now.

I'm going to watch you get out.

She looks lovely. She really does.

It's the veil that does it.

Look at my dad. That's my dad.

- I need a leak, babe.

- Disgusting.

Gotcha!

- Give us a kiss, come on. Cheer up.

- Don't cover me in lipstick.

- Why don't you go into church?

- I wish Mum could see this.

- You look so smart.

- Oh, don't go on. She's been dead 19 years.

It's still a pity she missed it.

David, come and say hello to your grandad.

- This is your sister's day.

- I wish it was me.

- I don't want it spoilt for her.

- Never mind, Dad.

Three pairs of knickers and that smile -

nothing will get through to Lizzie.

Good luck.

Organ plays

- Put it on.

- We're in church.

Take it off, then. Take it off.

It's the Old Bill.

That's Edgar.

My sister's marrying a copper - silly cow.

Takes all sorts.

- What are you doing here?

- What do you mean?

- Aren't you Jewish?

- What?

Because, if you are, you're not supposed

to be in here. It's a church.

I know it's a church. And I'm not Jewish.

Before we begin,

a word about photographs.

As a mark of respect to Edgar and Elizabeth,

I would ask the congregation

to refrain from taking photographs

until the signing of the register.

We have come together

in the presence of God...

to witness the marriage

of Edgar and Elizabeth...

to ask his blessing on them...

and to share in their joy.

Lovely.

Lovely. Lovely, Lizzie.

No confetti, please. No confetti.

- He's a widower, so watch your step.

- Oh, really?

Never married. Well, not since Mum died.

- Confirmed bachelor.

- 19 years.

- What a waste.

- Thank you.

Your friend has excellent taste, Christine.

David's over there somewhere, Dad.

- Congratulations. I like your dress.

- Thank you.

Straight out of Woman's Realm. And Edgar.

Edgar, this is Dolores.

- How do you do?

- I hope you'll be very happy.

- Thank you, Dolores.

- Thank you very much.

- You don't know my mother?

- No, I don't.

- This is my mum.

- Oh!

I didn't think she'd still be alive.

- Well I never. This is Edgar's mother, Dolly.

- Hello, dear.

Come on, Dolly.

Let's circulate. Find ourselves a husband.

Oh, God, that's better.

Running buffet? It's more like a stampede.

She's a mean cow, my sister.

Tuppence says there's marg in the bridge rolls.

Oh, God. She's got it all organised.

And Edgar! Have you ever seen anything

more boring than Edgar?

What a fart, eh?

There's no loo roll in here. Can...

Dolly!

Dolly. Oh, Dolly, you've...

You... you've got a willy... Dolly!

- You're a man, Dolly.

- No, I'm not.

And there's no paper in here either.

- But you've got a willy.

- I know I have.

Let me have a look. Show me.

Let me have another look.

Oh, all right.

It's nothing to be proud of, you know.

There it is.

Oh, dear.

It's not a laughing matter.

- How could you?

- What?

Don't play dumb with me.

You know exactly what I mean.

- What's the matter, Dad?

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