Victoria Wood's Midlife Christmas

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Well, I'd just like to say it's so lovely to be on the television at Christmas.

It's such a special time of year.

And I like to think of all those ladies standing in kitchens,

wearing the paper hats they put on when they were still in a good mood.

LAUGHTER

I like to think of all those gentlemen in their front rooms,

-edging their bottoms casually towards a plug-in air freshener...

-LAUGHTER

..hoping that cinnamon and vanilla will get to grips with sprouts and stuffing.

It's such a special time of year when we can all gather round the television, exchanging

that age-old Christmas greeting, "Don't bother, there's nothing on."

But please spare a thought for middle-aged people because

they can feel excluded from television at this time of year.

They're sitting on their sofas somewhere, all those Barrys and Fredas,

they've had their Christmas dinner, they've exchanged presents.

He's given her an Alan Titchmarsh beanbag lap tray...

She's given him a solar-powered biscuit dunker.

Evening stretches drearily ahead.

But wait, there is something on the television for them.

It's my present to Barrys and Fredas and middle-aged people everywhere.

It is My Mid Life Christmas.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

When I remember my childhood, it's always in sunlight.

We were poor, but we were contented.

And, although we knew grief,

there were always joyous times.

A JIG PLAYS

You won't find us on the map now.

The cottages are long gone.

Where they stood is the loading bay of River Island.

But I shall never forget that cluster of tumbledown houses next to our field with our old grey donkey

where, every spring, the larks would rise,

rise up and hover in the blue sky.

What was the name of this lark-filled place?

We just knew it as...

Donkeyfield.

It will be busy, market day in Cranchesterford.

No larks in the sky there.

No, just in pastry.

That was Ma and Pa's cottage.

And that's me, Arrowminty, the day my life changed forever.

No, Mother. Arrowminty is to stay under this roof.

She's to take no job at Cranchesterford Post and Potato Office.

And let that be the last pickle in the crock.

Do you want her to live as we have?

Every stick of furniture sold for boots and not a right foot amongst them.

Do you want to break her heart as your father broke yours?

-Arrr!

-You told me how he would not let you work the land,

how you yearned to thresh the wheat, to tend the corm.

I could have been somebody.

I could have been a corn tender.

Then let her go, Hal Finch.

For one thing, we could use her nightie.

Cath Finch, are you with child?

Again? How could this happen?

I told you there was a hole in the bolster.

Call the children down.

-I don't know their names.

-They cannot come down, we sold the stairs.

Arrowminty...

THEY LAUGH

I learned so much in those simple, sunlit days. That, when you wipe your nose on a patchwork quilt,

there will always be one square stiffer than all the others.

And that love is one thing but, without stairs, you can't really get up to the bedroom.

Cranchesterford was only seven miles away over the fields.

But so different was it from our simple hamlet,

it might as well have been more like eight.

I shall never forget my first sight of Cranchesterford, that day I was

to start work with Miss Finch at the Post and Potato Office.

-MAN:

-Action!

The hustle and bustle, the crowds.

So much noise and gaiety and movement.

I could barely catch my breath.

Miss Finch.

-Lord Cranborne.

-Have you considered further my proposal?

It is not practical, Charles.

I am attracted to you but it takes 20 minutes to take my corsets off and 35 minutes to get them back on.

I can only close the Post Office for an hour, you do the math.

-And will you continue to handle my potatoes?

-Of course.

Oh, Arnica. Why, Arrowminty's gone and had her hair straightened.

HE LAUGHS

Don't even go there.

Always wanted to talk rubbish but never had the confidence to try?

With "Let's Talk Rubbish", you can learn to talk rubbish easily with no memorising. "Let's Talk Rubbish"

uses everyday situations. You'll be talking rubbish in no time.

You'll learn to answer, "How are you?"

With a meaningless, "Yeah."

As well as banal replies, you'll learn pointless banter.

-'Don't even go there.'

-Don't even go there.

And you'll master that tricky upward inflection.

'You meet a friend and want to tell her that you have seen a table.'

And there was, like, this table.

Soon, you'll be talking rubbish with everyone you meet.

-Don't even go there.

-Nightmare!

-Tell me about it.

-Fair enough, to be honest with you.

-Whatever.

-That's it, at the end of the day.

How you doing, guys?

Yeah!

But he's a well known gambler and...

It is some years since the closed sign went up on the door

of Manchesterford's famous antique shop.

I'll make some sherry, Miss Babs.

And, though the faithful cleaner, Mrs Overall, may have hung up

her rubber gloves, the actress, Bo Beaumont, is a busy working actress.

Oh, yes, I like that. Busy, busy.

Embracing the challenges of a modern media career,

this film follows a week in Bo's life

as she moves Beyond The Marigolds.

Was I Mrs Overall, was she me?

On the face of it, no.

She was a simple, good-hearted Brummie and I'm a sophisticated,

-modern actress living on the borders of Paddington.

-And yet, you've...

And yet, Colin, I like to think I have her tenacity, her loyalty.

Well, I've just said it, her good-heartedness.

-May I?

-No, sorry. Those are for Saturdays.

-Wendy, you didn't put to the biscuits away, dear.

-Oh, sorry.

Of course, I should never have got the part of Mrs Overall.

I was actually down to the last two for Emma Peel in The Avengers.

We had... 'Bo seems keen, almost desperate, that I should

'understand how she came to be cast in what was,

'let's face it, a rather low-budget and derided soap.

..goes through one door, I go through...

'And yet, she genuinely seems to believe that she ended up with the better part.'

I got Mrs Overall and poor old Diana Rigg

was stuck with The Avengers, which ran, what, two series?

Oh, it was a nice little show.

Oh, it was a nice enough show. And Diana...

-Dame Diana.

-Yes, for charity work.

She's had a decent enough career, she's respected...

But she's not loved.

-No.

-Bo is loved.

-Thank you.

Bo lives in London with her friend and companion, Wendy,

and their Yorkshire terrier, Binkie.

Did you, em...?

It's the start of a very important week for Bo, as she begins rehearsals

for the very popular BBC One series, Strictly Come Dancing.

...might be good. Did you get the Ovaltine off the wraparound?

Dance professional, Anton du Beke, has no idea who his celebrity partner is to be.

But, to be honest, you just want someone fairly young who can move.

-Hello.

-Hello.

-Anton du Beke.

No, doesn't ring a bell.

-Have you ever won?

-Er, no.

Oh, luck be a lady.

Shall we dance?

Yes, I'll just get ready.

Roll back the rug.

MUSIC: My Baby Don't Care For Me by Nina Simone

OK. Let's warm up a little.

Just try moving to the music.

Oh, OK. Well, let's try a little sequence of steps.

Try this.

A-one-two-three, a-one-two-three.

Have a go.

Show me again.

It goes, and a-one-two-three

and a-one-two-three.

-Oh, I think that's going to be lovely. Wendy, a winning routine, wouldn't you say?

-Snazzy.

Do you want to give it a try?

Go again.

A-one-two-three, a-one-two-three.

It's sinking in. But I think we'll leave it there.

I don't want to overload myself on the first day.

Lovely meeting you. And I should have remembered your name and I haven't. Typical scatty actress.

Bye.

As the weeks went by, I became accustomed to the non-stop hurly burly of Cranchesterford,

to my work in the Post and Potato Office,

and I began to get to know Miss Finch and the postman a little better.

HE FARTS 'scuse I. Marrow.

-There was so much to learn.

-BELL RINGS

-Finally. I was in danger of denting my fan.

-I'm so sorry.

Can I get you a tuppenny stamp? They're on special offer.

And what is the special offer?

That was it. Just me offering it.

Muslin, these are useless.

-Run to the corn chandler's and get me another pair.

-At once, Mrs Godchild.

Are you Halibut Finch's child?

Yes, ma'am. The flitcher.

-What trade is that?

-I dunno.

I think it's something to do with, like, outdoors.

When I knew him, he was famed for his dancing.

His polka was the talk of Cranchesterford.

-It's a dance.

-Right.

Big woo.

Oh, my God! It's from Bessie. You know that guy we were talking about before?

-He, like, totally blanked her.

-Oh.

-Oh.

-Hang on.

-Don't read it, OK?

-He can't read, anyway.

-He's an urchin.

-Oh, yeah, duh!

Poorly paid assistant number three, please.

-Miss Finch.

-Mrs Godchild.

-Miss Muslin.

-I saw you in conversation with Lord Cranborne, did I not?

We were discussing the best protection for his Pentland javelin.

-Is that a euphemism?

-No, it's a potato.

Badly exploited assistant number one, please.

What are you smirking at?

If you want to smirk, go outside.

Getting the kiddies off to school?

I just seen them across the lane.

Them pie wagons come along at such a lick, you're lucky if you've got 20 minutes to get over.

Are you all right, Arnica? It's not getting you down, is it, living in a hovel?

Oh, Lord bless you, I don't want for nothing.

Clean air, good neighbours, them's my riches.

But...

But what?

-I don't know. Sometimes I fancy a fur coat and a bunk-up.

-You're depressed.

You need a folk dance.

Oh, no Kath!

I'm on six a day already from the doctor. I'm trying to cut down.

I better go. I got some pig's bladders to rot down for Lammastide Just nibbles for when folks pop in.

Ain't you givin' birth today?

I knew there was something else!

Thank you. Take care.

Bye, my dear.

Oh, ta. Got any plans for the weekend?

I'll just be bitterly musing on my arid existence.

I might stare out of a few windows. I'll see how I go. Yourself?

A boy from the haberdashers is coming round.

We're going to send out for broth,

and I got the new wax cylinder of Gladstone.

Wish I was gay.

Oh...

Welcome back to Brentford to the Midlife Olympics 2009,

and what a cracking start we've just had.

As you saw earlier, Robin Carmichael and his team bringing home the gold

for Great Britain in the 4 x 400 hedge trimming.

Now it's very much the turn of the ladies. Carol...

Yes indeed, Steve. Oh, and there's the music.

Teams just coming into the women's arena now.

And this is, of course, the Midlife Ladies' Pentathlon.

Not too much of a crowd there, Carol?

No, the supporters will be mainly middle-aged women.

They may have gone shopping or just forgotten about coming into the stadium altogether.

Kerry Perry, hoping to bounce back

after the Ladies' Indoor Texting, where she held

her phone the wrong way round and sent a photo

of her left breast to everyone on her Christmas card list.

Oh, and we're going over to Andy Cafferty in the Parking Stadium.

Andy, how are things going down there?

Mixed fortunes, Steve.

Britain pipped to the medals in the Ladies' Outdoor Parking.

Cathy Daker struggling as usual with chevrons.

She was in a Volvo with a dog cage -

that may have affected her reversing.

And how did we get on in the Multi-Storey Time Trials?

Not too great, I'm afraid. The American, Laura Sabatini, got gold.

Little bit controversial.

Failed on her third attempt, burst into tears, and the car was parked for her by a passing male motorist.

What did you make of that manoeuvre, very quickly?

Well, there's nothing in the rulebook against it.

Personally I don't like it, I don't think it helps the cause of women's parking.

Well, there, I've said it, I don't like it. Sorry.

Ciao for now.

It's day two of Strictly Come Dancing, and Bo has

still not got to grips with the first two steps of the warm-up.

And one, two, three...

One, two, three and one, two, three.

I think the problem is, Beckton, it's a lovely routine

-but I'm not getting it because I'm not feeling it.

-But it's not actually the routine...

I know - you're waiting for me to put in my own little flourishes.

-Look, how about we cook up something a little bit more sassy?

-Sassy...

Calypso, rhumba, something with a bit of hip action? Hocha-cocha!

I'll get some music.

Good. You changing? Changing the routine?

You know, you don't have very much time left to learn the routine, Bo.

Well, I've got 16 weeks.

It's tight, but it's manageable.

No, no. The whole series is 16 weeks.

You do your first show this Saturday.

It goes out live.

Wendy...

Wendy! Come here. Colin! No cameras!

Love the fingers...

Bo has decided against appearing in Strictly Come Dancing, and is on her way to visit Delia Smith,

to talk about taking part in Delia's new cookery and travel show, The Gravy Train.

Are you a fan of Delia Smith?

Oh, yes. I mean, she's taken something we can all do, good plain cooking, and somehow

managed to wrangle that into quite a respectable career. Hats off to her!

And she has a football club.

Does she? How lovely!

Garden full of kiddies, muddy kit.

-These are very good. Did you make them, Del?

-Hmm-mm.

Little tip -

whip them out a couple of minutes earlier.

Can you taste? They've slightly gone over.

Could you, Karen, explain to Bo what our new project is?

OK. Well, The Gravy Train is basically Delia going from town to town on a steam train,

meeting members of the public, asking them what their likes and dislikes...

'I sensed Bo's enthusiasm for this cookery programme and wonder if

'this might not be the thing that puts her back in the TV limelight.'

So, basically you would tell us your signature dish, we'd sort out the ingredients.

You just have to turn up on the day and teach it to Delia.

All we need to know from you, Bo, is, what is your signature dish?

Which shall we reveal, Wendy?

The mince timbale?

Fish finger surprise?

-Crackamole!

-Crackamole!

What it is, Smithy,

you take an ordinary pack of Tuc crackers...

MUSIC DROWNS SPEECH

Can I just, you know, get this straight?

Tuc crackers?

A piece of sardine.

And then a squeeze of lemon - lime...

Lime juice. That's the kick of the mole.

-And then on a plate?

-That's right.

In a spiral, arranged in a spiral.

-We used to lay them out in concentric circles.

-And then...

I was looking at the crackers one day.

It was just after 9/11.

I think I just wanted to do something life-affirming. Like any chef, I was in the zone.

I said to Wendy,

"Ditch the circles."

"Put them in a spiral."

WENDY SNIFFS

Later that day, Bo got a call from Delia's office to say there had been a double booking.

And instead of Bo's crackamole, they were going ahead with

the Archbishop of Canterbury's spam curry.

ORGAN PLAYS

How many times have we prayed to God for something?

And he hasn't given it to us.

What do we do? We blame ourselves.

"Oh, we weren't good enough. I didn't deserve it." Or we blame God.

"He has let us down."

It was my birthday the other day.

And as you do when you're in a relationship,

I dropped hints with my partner about what I would like for a present.

In fact, I told him what I wanted, which is what we do with God, isn't it? We tell him what we want.

So I told my partner, Eric,

that I would like an espresso machine.

Because I love me espresso.

And come the great day there was a big parcel waiting for me.

And I thought, that's a very big espresso machine, and I opened it.

And it was two...

imitation leather...

outdoor beanbags.

And I was disappointed.

Because Eric had known what I wanted,

and he hadn't given it to me.

Very nice beanbags, but I didn't want beanbags. I wanted...

an espresso machine. And he could see I was disappointed.

And he said to me, "Bobby...",

which is what he calls me,

"I didn't give you the espresso machine because you have high blood pressure, you drink too much coffee.

"I gave you the outdoor beanbags so we could sit in the garden

"together in the evening, hold hands and chill out.

"Chillax. Because I love you."

And that's what God does.

Doesn't give us what we want.

The espresso machine.

He gives us what we need.

The outdoor beanbags.

Because he loves us.

He loves us and he wants us to chillax.

It's 8.00am, and Nick and Margaret have both arrived early for their meeting with Sir Alan.

"THE APPRENTICE" THEME FADES

JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS

APPLAUSE

I loved ma and pa,

but now that I had straight hair and an umbrella, it was getting harder

to tear myself away from the excitements of Cranchesterford to walk home to see them.

Arrowminty, come with us.

-There's been enough rain for Walt's Big Puddle.

-It's my day off.

I'm off to Donkeyfield to see Ma and Pa and the children.

You're, like, really going to have to choose between Donkeyfield and Cranchesterford.

You can't have friends in both places. End of.

THUNDER RUMBLES

That's a fine cup of tea, postman.

I swill around before I pour.

It just brings out the flavour.

We're both bachelors.

You got that right, girlfriend!

But lately, I've had a terrible yearning for Postmistress Finch.

And I need to know if you have any sort of intentions towards her.

Oh! No.

So I could plight my troth?

You can plight it and paint it purple, don't mind me.

I wouldn't know where to start with a lady. They're all slither and curves.

-Nightmare.

-Have you never been courtin', Postman?

Not as such.

I have a lot of shallow, meaningless encounters with boys though, so I don't feel I'm missing out.

-I'm just looking out for Arrowminty.

-Oh, yes, she's coming home today!

-Where's the kiddies?

-We had to pawn them.

We'll get them out Saturday, God willing.

How's your medication?

Down to two dances a day.

-Feel loads better.

-Yeah?

-Yes.

I don't have that endless critical interior monologue.

Anyway, tell Arrowminty to pop in - the hovel's looking top notch.

I've got a new dead cat in the doorway.

Ginger. Picks up the trim in the scatter cushions.

Oh...

Enjoy!

THEY SCREAM

Oh, my God!

I'm, like, "Argh!"

I'm like...

There you go. Good as new.

Thank you, Blacksmith. That's better.

Postmistress Finch, the other night your curtains was open.

Yes, a badger had got into my pelmet.

I couldn't help seeing you disrobing.

How much did you see?

I stayed for the first 20 minutes.

Yes, I admit my undergarments are a little labour-intensive.

-Well, what you need is...

-Yes...

-Some sort of quick-release mechanism.

-Oh...!

-Let me have a think.

-OK. Ta.

No sign of our girl.

-What could have happened?

-Either she's struck with the quinsy at death's door...

In which case, fair do's.

Or else she reckons she's too uppity-tuppity to visit her old ma and pa and their...

-Children.

-Well, Halibut Finch will not be disrespected.

I'm a simple man, but I have my pride.

Just take a bull's-eye.

Bit garlicky from lunch.

My pa wasn't rich.

Not money-rich. He didn't have a big house or a fine carriage.

And that was really depressing.

Still not paid enough assistant number three, please.

What do you reckon?

-It's a little youthful.

-Meaning?

That it's gay frivolity may not sit so well on a more mature,

not to say, miserable and sagging, countenance.

May I remind you who pays your wages?

On you, it's fabulous.

I'll take it.

Just one tug.

Blacksmith, you have triumphed. What should be your reward?

What do you care to give me?

There's a Desiree with no postcode. Go lovely with some coleslaw.

Cheers.

Arrowminty!

'Scuse me, my lady, I'm looking for my daughter.

Lolly Goggins.

Halibut Finch.

You still have your half of the pork scratching?

Oh...

Wednesday morning.

Bo has an appointment with the producers of the genealogy programme,

Who Do You Think You Are?

The meeting hasn't gone well.

Bo has walked out having refused to give the researchers her real name or her date of birth.

But Bo is not deterred by this latest setback and has contacted an old friend at ITV.

-He was very interested. Very.

-What's the programme, Bo?

-It's called, I Am A Celebrity.

-I like the sound of that.

Yes, to be fair, I did work for the commercial channel years ago.

-Do you remember, Wendy, in the Rediffusion days?

-Emergency Ward 10.

-That's right.

-I was a comedy nosebleed.

-...Bleed.

-A little scrap of raw talent. Here I am,

whizzing through the streets of the capital...

on my way to meet the producers of I Am A Celebrity.

Ah, the whirligig of time.

The producer of I Am A Celebrity has explained that it is a Japanese-style endurance game.

You get all the jungle gear, the boots and the shorts and so on.

Sometimes, we fly people in as a surprise.

I think we did that with Cannon and Ball.

But, Bo seems still to be interested.

We have these things called Bush Tucker trials, where the celebrities have to eat...

rather disgusting things. Like, erm, edible grubs, and locusts and kangaroo anus.

I think Jan Leeming ate wombat penis.

Well, that's about it.

-How dare you.

-What?

Do you seriously think I would give an instance consideration to your fetid little programme?

Why...?

I am an actress.

A loved and respected actress.

I was voted best loved character in a soap 1987, 1989 and 1990.

And there are three things on television I will never do.

I will not wear shorts.

I will not take part in any repellent eating trial.

And I will not appear on any programme that considers Jan Leeming

to be a celebrity. Come on, Wendy.

Some ladies may need to kick start their careers by chomping on the private parts of a marsupial.

In the unlikely event that I ever need to boost my profile, you will find me on Channel 4.

In Dictionary Corner On Countdown. Good day.

Out of they way!

Sorry.

Welcome back. Women's pentathlon hotting up as you just heard on the news.

Pentathlon stalwart, Kerry Perry, has failed her drugs test.

That's official. She tested positive on an on-the-spot testing for...

What was it, Carol?

Viennetta.

Sad day, but the stuff is out there, unfortunately.

Being realistic, anyone can get hold of it.

Coming in today, I was offered a petit four.

And we're just hearing that the third event in the Ladies' Pentathlon,

the Supermarket Checkout Relay, has been halted.

Deirdre, this is pretty unheard of. Can you tell us what actually happened?

The relay was halted when one of the Kenyans chose the "five items

"or less" aisle but was then found to have six items in her basket.

So, she's out, then?

The Kenyans are claiming that two of the items were part of a

buy-one-get-one-free offer so count, in effect, as one item.

So, Carol, should she have gone for a different aisle?

It's a tough call. So much depends on the checkout operative.

-Younger operatives are not always quicker.

-It was a young lad, you may remember, who scotched

Sweden's chances in the semis when he couldn't recognise a kiwi.

And we lost out, of course, in the European Shopping Championships two years ago, when our girl took a risk

with a packet of Maxi-pads and they were beeped through as a white Hovis.

Let's have a quick look back at the history of this shopping event.

This is the 1912 Games in Stockholm.

As you see, the shopping element is quite embryonic.

Minimal choice, none of the trickier to manage items we see today.

No cat litter, no Toilet Duck.

And not the easiest of kit to run in.

No, indeed. Oh, a lady hitting the deck there.

With her long skirt.

And this is, of course, Connie Flanders-Bentham,

who won in front of the home crowd here in London in 1948.

1948, the Austerity Games.

The medals were cast in cheap metal and many athletes did suffer an allergic reaction.

In fact, Connie did die later that day.

That's right. That really is a day of contrasts.

Winning...and then dying.

Real bad luck, there.

Back after this.

'It was just an ordinary day at work

'and then, bang!

'I slipped on a chip...'

Help, I've slipped on a chip!

'..someone had left on the ground.'

SHE GROANS

-'I phoned slippedonachip.com. They couldn't have been more helpful.'

-It's our pleasure.

'I received £8,000 in compensation.

'So, when my friend at work tripped over a miniature cuckoo clock someone had glued to the kerb...

CUCKOO!

'She got in touch with slippedonachip.com straight away.

'But they wouldn't take the case cos...

'it wasn't a chip.

'slippedonachip.com.'

Does not apply in the case of French fries, curly fries or mash.

Big changes came to all of us that summer.

Ma and Pa had separated.

She was working as a private dancer in a gentlemen's club in the red bonnet district.

And Pa had been reunited with his childhood sweetheart, Lolly Goggins,

the rich widow, Mrs Godchild.

What's wrong, my darling?

I cannot get used to these garments.

I am at a flitcher. And flitchers don't wear such stuff.

Our shirts are rough hemp.

Our trousers moleskin softened by wind and weather, creased at the knee and groin.

I am loving the sound of that. And maybe a little neckerchief? Chunky belt?

Arrowminty?

I had no time for Ma and Pa.

One of the new spray-whitening booths had opened in Cranchesterford

and soon my rosy cheeks would be gone for ever.

Lift your ringlets.

I reckon you could go a shade lighter than that.

Arrowminty Finch, ain't you got no shame?

Whitening the good brown bosoms the Lord gave you.

With a pa shacked up with a fine lady.

And a ma showing her bonnet to anyone with a threepenny bit.

I reckon I don't have no shame, no.

Fair point, well made.

DOORBELL RINGS

Ah, Miss Muslin. I fear I cannot serve you.

Our postman is out on his rounds and I have a most urgent delivery to make to Lord Cranborne.

-Is he missing some potatoes?

-I'm hoping not.

-It would seem you have a bee in your bonnet.

-I admit I have feelings for him.

-No, you have a bee in your bonnet.

Oh! Ah!

God, I hate the country.

Best call it midsummer madness, Ma. Me shacking up with Mrs Godchild.

-Me doing the private dancing.

-That's no life.

I never want to want to hear Greensleeves again, I tell you that.

If we could just set things straight with Arrowminty.

Take a look yonder.

It's Arrowminty...

with the children.

I sold my flitching tools to get them out of the pawnshop.

Oh, Pa.

Wrong children.

Oh, beggar. Never mind. Still got the tickets.

Come on, tiddlers.

Easy mistake.

Mmm.

I love you, Halibut Finch.

Not as much as I love you, Catheter Finch.

Lord Cranborne, please.

I have a registered package and an Innovations catalogue.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Hang on.

Ah, Lord Cranborne.

The matter we discussed previously, regarding ladies netherwear and time taken in removal.

-I'm not sure I recall...

-Corsets. The blacksmith has come up with a gadget...

-Really?

..that will make it much quicker for the dog to see the euphemism.

I'm afraid my circumstances now are such that I really have no great desire to see your euphemism.

Might I know what has altered your circumstances?

We just clicked.

-I should have said something, but I was waiting to see how it went.

-I see.

Do you want to see how the corset works? Just for info?

No fear! I was saying to Lord C here, I delivered a telegram once and the woman was naked.

It was like a go-slow in a blancmange factory.

I was sleeping with the light on for weeks.

I'll see myself out.

We weren't to know that sunlit evening, Ma and Pa and me,

how swiftly life would change in that lark-filled place.

That Pa would finally admit there was no such trade as flitching.

And that he'd been spending all day in the reference library.

That Ma would to an external degree in gender politics at Cranchesterford Technical College

and that, although she would always love Pa, she would always slightly despise him.

We could never have realised, as we waltzed on that sunlit meadow,

that we were actually dancing on a badly maintained septic tank.

And that many of us would die horribly from sewage-related illnesses.

Or that Ma and Pa's children would have children of their own.

And some of them would become the Nolan Sisters...

Nigel Kennedy...

and Gary Wilmot.

And as for the girl I was, Arrowminty, she fell in love with the blacksmith

and they were as happy as larks in the sky.

For a bit, anyway.

Half-an-hour later and Bo is still fuming.

Jan Leeming,

don't think so.

Bo, isn't that the Olympic skaters?

Oh, that's right, it's Pearl and Dean.

Now that looks like an elegant show to be on.

I don't suppose they have to chow down on wallaby scrotum.

Is it worth giving them a ring? While we're here?

You skated before, Bo?

-Not for some time.

-We used to to go to Richmond.

That's right, we used to go round the edge, didn't we? Once round the edge.

-What, just hanging on?

-That's right. I'm sure it'll come back to me.

What do they call it? Muscle...

-Memory.

-That's it. Muscle memory.

Bo!

Here they are, those plucky little East Midlanders.

-Hello.

-Hello.

How are you?

'While Bo makes friends with Dancing On Ice stars Torvill and Dean, I take a minute to chat to Wendy.'

Wendy, you do an awful lot for Bo, don't you? There's the shopping, cooking, cleaning and driving.

I mean, you're almost a dogsbody.

I'm very privileged.

You don't see what she does for me.

Actually, no, I don't.

What does she do for you? I'm intrigued.

She's my life!

She is my life.

I thought I might get a hot chocolate.

Only if Bo shows some competence on the ice, will she be allowed to take part in the show.

Get back!

Thank you, Christopher, thank you.

Yes...

MUSIC: "Bolero" by Ravel

-It's a lot about poise, isn't it?

-Gliding.

-Is that a move?

-I think, yeah...

She's relaxing a bit more now, I think.

Wendy!

-How did you think that went?

-Yeah, no, it's fine. Thank you.

-Yeah, I thought it went...

-It was OK.

OK, yeah.

Why don't we call your agent and we'll sort things out?

-Yeah.

-Yeah?

-Great.

-Keep practising.

-Will do, thanks.

-Lots.

What did they say?

They say it would be a very big time commitment if I stayed in right to the final. It's a lot of weekends.

We wouldn't want to miss Crufts.

I might have to turn it down, sadly.

Can you get yourself up off the ice?

No.

Saturday evening.

It's my last chance to talk to Bo and there's one question I feel I must put to her.

Has it been a humiliating week, Bo?

Oh, that's a pretty probing question, Colin.

Deserves an honest answer.

It was a hard week, shall we say,

and I did have to be forceful at times, but humiliating? No.

I don't think I humiliated anyone, not my style. Oh, lovely.

So you weren't out of your comfort zone this week?

Colin, I'm an actress.

You can take me to risk, you can take me to danger, but never ask me to visit comfort zone!

That's one place Bo Beaumont ain't never going to go.

Ooh, Crackamole.

What's on the goggle box, Wendy?

When Celebrity Gastric Bands Wear Out.

Ah, lovely.

Well, what a Games it's been, an unforgettable Midlife Olympics.

Carol and I would like to thank you for spending time with us here in Middlesex.

Let's take a look at our medal highlights, including that unforgettable closing ceremony,

but first, we're going to take a look of that magical moment when the Midlife Olympic flame finished its

long journey from Addis Ababa and arrived in Brentford.

And what a solemn moment this is.

Veteran Tony Middleton, holder of the world speed record for setting the table,

lighting the Olympic flame that will mark the start of the Midlife Games of 2009.

Lit by wife, Sheila, there.

Eve Bluston, first attempt on the balance beam.

Pipped to silver in Nagasaki. Looking to come good today.

Oh, oh, ah...

It's not happening.

Ah, lost momentum. First refusal.

Pain etched on the face of Graham Gardner,

back on the pedalo only weeks after a botched hip replacement.

Ghanaians giving their all, but it's not enough.

Yes, Britain has gold and the Ghanaians are nowhere!

Come in number three, you've got a gold medal.

Second attempt from Eve Bluston now.

That's a lovely run. She used good height.

No, no, second leg not coming up.

Coach Alan Lilley there with the official bunk-up.

No, no, doesn't want it.

Second refusal.

Well, I think we can say goodbye to the silver.

India, very good in all flat-pack events

but Babs and Nigel Conway are racing ahead with only one shelf to go.

Is it solid? It's solid!

Married Couples Self-assembly Flat-pack Olympic gold,

back where it belongs, in Britain.

Nice use of the hand to steady herself.

One leg on, that the new plastic knee she's holding.

She's up. She needs both hands up to secure the medal. Alan lets go.

Up go the arms.

Bluston has silver.

And what a breathtaking sight that is.

Ken Fallaway forming the shape of the Olympic rings

in fire against the night sky of our host city, Brentford in Middlesex.

And one can only marvel at the months of dedication and sheer slog

that have resulted in this flawless closing display.

And there it goes, gold and silver fountain,

one of the hardest fireworks to light,

but it lit for the British Olympic hosts in Brentford tonight.

And on that triumphant note,

we say a very good night to middle-aged people everywhere.

CHEERING

Well, we've come to the end of the show and we're going to finish with a song.

We wanted to have a big musical number with big orchestration and

lots of dancers, but you know, we can't afford it.

So I am going to sing at the piano and if you could

just sort of imagine a big band and the lovely costumes and some sort of Christmassy background.

So I'm going to dedicate this song

to all the middle-aged people watching out there,

all the Barrys and Fredas, they may have been married

for a long time, perhaps the spark has gone out of their relationship,

perhaps they don't have quite as good a sex life as they once had.

This is for them.

# Freda and Barry sat one night

# The sky was clear the stars were bright

# The wind was soft, the moon was up

# Freda drained her cocoa cup

# She licked her lips, she felt sublime

# She switched off Gardeners' Question Time

# Barry cringed in fear and dread

# As Freda grabbed his tie and said

# "Let's do it, let's do it, do it while the mood is right.

# "I'm feeling appealing, I've really got an appetite

# "I'm on fire, with desire, I could handle half the tenors in a male voice choir.

# "Let's do it, let's do it tonight."

# But he said, "I can't do it, I can't do it,

# "I'm not exactly Russell Brand.

# "You're thwarted, I'm sorted, got me evening's telly planned

# "It's a pity, the nitty-gritty, I've taped 11 episodes of Holby City

# "Can't do it, can't do it tonight."

# So she said, "Let's do it, let's do it, do it till our hearts go boom

# "Go native, creative, living in the living room

# "This folly, it's jolly, bend me over backwards on me hostess trolley

# "Let's do it, let's do it tonight."

# "Can't do it, can't do it, my heavy breathing days are gone

# "Niagara, Viagra, nothing really turns me on

# "Stop stewing, boo-hooing, I've had a look down there

# "and there's nothing doing. Can't do it, can't do it tonight."

# "Let's do it, let's do it, while I'm really in the mood

# "Three cheers, it's years since I caught you even semi-nude

# "Get drastic, gymnastic, wear your baggy Y-fronts with the loose elastic.

# "But let's do it, let's do it tonight."

# "Can't do it, can't do it, it's really not my cup of tea.

# "I'm harassed, embarrassed, I wish you hadn't picked on me.

# "Don't choose me, don't use me, my mother's sent a note to say you must excuse me.

# "Can't do it, can't do it tonight."

# "Let's do it, let's do it, we really absolutely must

# "I won't exempt you, want to tempt you, want to drive you mad with lust.

# "No cautions, just contortions, spear an avocado on me lower portions

# "Let's do it, let's do it tonight."

# "I can't do it, I can't do it, I must refuse to get unzipped.

# "I'm tearful,

# "I'm fearful, worried that I'm ill-equipped.

# "Don't bully, I can't fully guarantee to cope without a rope and pulley

# "Can't do it, can't do it tonight."

# "Let's do it, let's do it, I really want to run amok

# "Let's wiggle, let's jiggle, let's really make the rafters rock

# "Be mighty, be flighty, come and knock the buttons off me flameproof nightie.

# "Let's handle some scandal, come and sip Ribena from my peep-toe sandal

# "Surprise me, chastise me,

# "Let's be Fern and Phil and you can patronise me.

# "Let's do it, let's do it tonight."

# "Get festive, get restive, dunk me in the duvet like a big digestive.

# "Just humour, a late bloomer, stuff my Christmas stocking with your big satsuma.

# "Not bleakly, not meekly, beat me on the bottom with a Woman's Weekly.

# "Let's do it, let's do it tonight." #

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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