Sleepwalker

Just a bad dream, Marion.

Just a bad dream.

Do you know what time it is?

Alex!

You've been asleep

most of the afternoon!

So much for Al fresco.

It's just my luck!

Even the weather gangs up on me.

I'm sure they would have loved it.

Alex?

Don't you think

they would have loved it?

Loved it?

- What does Robert do again?

- Oh, Alex, please!

It's Richard!

Richard and Angela.

I told you, he's in video.

How refreshing!

Did you bring that table in?

No.

Well, do you think you can?

And can you look at that window?

Bastard!

Now, listen!

I bloody well drove us here.

Now, you bloody well find the place!

All right?

I said, "All right?"

Richard, please!

I hate it when you're like this.

When I'm like this?

Just let me remind you that

this rural bloody retreat was your idea.

They're your f***ing friends.

You find the place!

All I can make out is...

All it says is that it is a house

with a "for sale" sign.

Oh, Christ!

Look out!

Up yours!

Sorry. I thought

you were going to hit him.

Hit him?

Did you do the window, Alex?

I'm sorry?

Christ!

Sh*t!

Bastard!

Marion!

We made it!

Come in!

Angela, you shouldn't have.

Richard. Richard...

They're lovely.

But... Well, look, come in!

Alex!

We've had the most terrible disaster.

The whole downstairs blew up

just this minute.

No!

Kitchen window

fell on the dinner.

Alex!

Still, we've real fires in here.

Oh, well done, darling.

Let me introduce you.

Alex, this is Richard

and Angela Paradise.

Charming.

It's Victorian, isn't it?

I often think I'd like to have

been born in Victorian times.

It's just as mother left it.

- What shall I...

- Alex will take it up for you. Darling?

- Do you want a drink?

- What would you like to drink?

Sherry or something?

Lovely!

Come and get into the warm,

you two.

I'm afraid we'll have to eat out

after that...

But still, it's a lovely place.

But I'd better ring up.

Just to be on the safe side.

What did she say happened?

Oh, I don't know.

A window on the dinner or something.

Wake me up

when it's over, will you?

Did you make a reservation, madam?

Yes.

The name's Britain.

- I telephoned.

- Of course.

It's rather good here.

We're pretty lucky, really.

Do you think

they do a decent breakfast?

Something to drink, sir?

Er... Let's have the wine

straight away, shall we?

- Red all right?

- Fine.

- Do you have a good Burgundy?

- I think we can find something.

Fine, we'll have that.

The place is full of bloody queers.

Didn't know

they had them this far north.

Do they, er...

I mean, are there a lot in...

Or something.

I heard a good joke the other day.

Bloody funny.

What does G-A-Y stand for?

Don't know.

"Got AIDS yet?"

I don't suppose it's very funny

if you do have it.

- As a matter of fact...

- Oh, pour it.

According to an article

I read in the New Scientist recently,

AIDS is not

an exclusively homosexual...

Do you mind turning down

this awful pipe music?

Certainly, sir.

Marion, did I show you

what Richard found at the squash club?

- We're pretty sure it's real.

- It is rather nice.

But didn't it belong to someone?

No one I know.

I felt such a fool wearing one,

but apparently it's very trendy, actually.

Really?

Ah, looks like a bit of action at last.

They're usually pretty quick.

So they should be.

This is the age of the microwave.

Get it out fast!

All this bloody luddite rubbish about...

Ah, duck l'orange.

Is that any good?

As I was saying, all this luddite

rubbish about traditional methods.

Sheer antiquated claptrap.

We couldn't do without ours,

darling, could we?

Here's to microwaves.

- You two got one?

- No.

Really?

You see what I mean, don't you?

The tricky thing about it was

she was out for the count.

Out for the count.

Do you know what I did then?

I shook her.

I took her by the shoulders

and I shook her.

"Wake up," I said.

"Wake up. You're in a coma."

"Start walking. Wake up."

You've got to keep 'em walking,

you know, when they're in a coma.

Yes, I believe so, sir.

- Thank you.

- That's it.

There we are.

- Yes, it's turning...

- Careful!

...much colder, isn't it?

- That's it.

- Well done.

I tell you,

Jakarta's the spot.

They lay on everything, literally.

Room service and...

If you see what I mean.

And the Silks!

You know how things work

in Indonesia?

They want business,

so they go out and get it.

We could learn a lot

from them these days.

- Like sweated labour?

- And what's wrong with sweat?

You picked an odd place to live

if you're squeamish on that score.

They haven't been there long, Richard.

- It's about six months, isn't it?

- Since mother died?

- Yes, about that.

- Ah, but you see...

The house is different.

- The house is mine.

- Ours!

The house is something

to believe in. It's...

- Your castle!

- Yes.

No, more than that.

A castle is just property, insular.

We were looking

for something extra.

We were looking for... a life.

The house, where it is,

the decision...

Working on it together, it's...

It's a home.

It's not some bloody

electronic sweatshop.

And we're not coolies scrabbling around

for the odd cent at the end of the week.

Oh, but Alex,

they're glad of the money.

They don't need much.

It costs hardly anything to live out there.

And they do treat him marvellously.

They do. They do.

Because they want to,

out of sheer natural hospitality.

Not at all.

Because they know

what side their bread's buttered.

Video's a cut-throat market.

Tight margins.

And when they see me,

they see money.

They see a citizen of the world,

a floating entrepreneur.

Exclusively in business to create wealth.

For them, for me.

I can never understand

how people like you...

...have such a clear run.

Listen!

What happens when you throw sh*t

and a gold bar into a pond, huh?

Well, I'll tell you.

The sh*t floats,

and the gold goes straight to the bottom.

And where does that leave you?

With money in the bank, old bean.

That's where it leaves me.

Not stuck in the mud,

or in the sticks.

But surely that's what you want, isn't it?

Everyone stuck in the mud,

...cave dwellers with TV sets.

You turn us all into recluses,

and you charge us for the privacy.

So? It's not a divine right,

is it, privacy?

It's a commodity with a value.

Oh, come on.

You don't mean that, do you?

Well, not really.

We do deals with pubs too.

Well, I agree with Alex.

It will kill conversation. It already has.

Bugger conversation!

It's communication that I sell.

The medium is the message.

- Madam, may I?

- Yes.

Ah, thank you.

- Marion reads for a publisher.

- Really?

They only send me crap

these days.

Think if I can stand living here,

I can stand anything.

- All those poor authors.

- Well, it bloody well serves them right.

Shouldn't write the stuff, should they?

- And you don't write anything?

- No, not anymore.

So, there's just Alex.

Alex? He's not a writer.

He's a translator, I think.

What do you mean,

you think?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes