It's a Khanderful Life Citizen Khan

Welcome to Sparkhill, Birmingham,

the capital of British Pakistan.

They all know me.

Do you like my suit?

Number one, Citizen Khan.

Once upon a Christmas time in Sparkhill...

..there lived a young Pakistani man named Mr Khan.

As well as being handsome

and frequently mistaken for George Clooneys,

Mr Khan was a cheerful sort of fellow.

But this particular Christmas, he was feeling a bit down in the dumps.

-Merry Christmas.

-Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, Mr Khan!

I'm not a community leader and nobody knows me.

Hm, there's something not right with Mr Khan.

-Mr Khan?

-Yes.

-You know, beard, glasses...

-BLUE STAR HOIKS

Oh, Mr Khan.

So what do you think is wrong with him, then?

Well, if you ask me,

it all goes back to when he first moved to Sparkhill.

The year was 1989,

when Band Aid were top of the Christmas charts again.

A flight to Pakistan cost only £149.

£199 if you wanted an actual seat.

And the world was Mr Khan's oyster.

Hello, Keith!

Hang on...

You'll like this.

Salman, I like him, Mr Khan.

-What?

-Salman, I like him.

Salman who? Salman Rushdie?

No. No.

-Isn't that what you Muslims say?

-No.

-What do you say, then?

-I need a briefcase, Keith.

Oh, right.

No. I don't plan on staying in Sparkhill for ever.

Oh, no.

I've got big dreams, ambitions.

I'm going to be somebody, like Robert Maxwell.

Whatever he can do, I can do, too, eh?

What about this, Mr Khan?

It's got a vinyl finish, lots of space for important documents.

No, no, no, no.

I need something that says I'm a proper businessman,

a mover, a shaker, huh?

I'm Mr Khan, they'll all know me.

How about this?

Executive briefcase,

genuine leather, combination locks, brass finish.

Not bad, huh?

-How much?

-No charge.

I can't afford that! Hang on...

What did you say?

Call it a wedding present.

Ha-ha! Thank you, Keith!

Oh, yes.

I'll get my name on it, huh, in gold letters.

That is extra.

Very generous of you, Keithy.

I suppose, now you're married, Mrs Khan will want a place of her own?

Oh, Keith, Keith, Keith, Keith...

I promised her father I'll keep her safe and warm

with a roof over her head.

You get all that in a flat above a chip shop.

Ah, no mortgage, no ties.

Apart from this one, hey?

I still can't believe we own our own home.

Yes, I'll do all the DIYs, huh?

Make this a home.

Our home.

Ah, just the two of us.

Erm...

-The three of us.

-Hey?

Toilet not work.

Oh, I'd forgotten about you.

Ha!

Oh, and I have another bit of news I need to tell you.

-Oh, me, too!

-Welcome, Mr Khan.

-Welcome, Riaz.

-Ready?

In a minute. Mrs Khan has got something to tell me.

You go first.

Well, Riaz as has given me a tip-off

that Mr Javed is looking for investors for his new business.

He's going into the mobile phone business.

What's a mobile phone?

I don't know.

Where's my briefcase?

Ah-ha!

Here we go.

HE CHUCKLES

-How do I look?

-Like a proper businessman.

-Wish me luck.

-Good luck.

Oh, no, no. Hang on...

-What was your news?

-I'll tell you later.

-No, just tell me now, sweetie.

-OK.

I'm going to have a baby.

Ah, ha-ha-ha!

That's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful news!

Oh, no. Hold on.

You need to have something to eat. Have you eaten? Sit down.

-Oh, no, you can't sit on there, but...

-I'm fine!

Mr Khan, we should go.

Riaz, I am going to be a daddy.

Congratulations. But the Mr Javed.

Forget Mr Javed.

I need to make this house a palace fit for my family.

Nine months later, Mr Khan's dream house was taking shape.

Even if his business career, just like Robert Maxwell's,

was about to sink.

So what's this meeting you've got, then?

I'm about to be a founder member

of the Sparkhill Pakistani Business Association.

Wow, you're going to be like one of them yuppies.

Better than that, Keithy.

I'm going to be a Pakistani yuppie.

A "puppie"!

-Very impressive.

-I'm on my way, Keith.

Nothing and no-one can stop me now.

Oh...!

-Hospital.

-Oh...!

Are you OK?

Once again, our handsome young business mogul

had his plans thwarted.

How would Britain cope without this man's genius?

But thankfully, four years later, opportunity knocked again...

-Thanks for taking me to the bus station, Riaz.

-No problem.

I'm going to try and get a meeting with Mr Alan Sugars.

-Never heard of him.

-He makes rubbish computers.

The school just called.

Shazia has got her head stuck in the climbing frame.

And Naani ate beetroot.

Need hospital. Too much gas.

And I'm pregnant again.

Come on. Come on, here we go.

And so, the handsome Mr Khan soldiered on

until Christmas Eve, 2016.

When fate, in the unlikely form of Ginger Dave,

presented him with one more chance.

Merry Christmas, Riaz!

Wa'alaikum salaam.

I said, Merry Christmas!

-For the community centre.

-Oh...

Oh, the penny drops.

Riaz, when I said the penny drops, I didn't literally mean a penny.

-I need the coins for the electric meter.

-Oh, no, you don't. Look...

Heh-hey...!

Oh.

Ah-ah-ah-ah.

COINS RATTLE

-Thank you.

-What are you collecting for?

Who cares? Something to do with the community centre.

New car park, new roof, I don't know.

-I didn't know we needed a new roof.

-We don't.

Your eyebrows are moving up and down.

That's because I'm trying to tell you something

-of a slightly sensitive nature.

-Oh.

Listen, Riaz, if I can raise enough money for this place,

-they'll have to name it after me.

-Oh, that again.

Yes, that again.

Why shouldn't it be named after me?

Nowadays, all buildings are named after someone.

You've got the Burj Khalifa, named after President Khalifa.

St Paul's Cathedral, named after St Paul.

And Windsor Castle, named after...Barbara Windsor.

Hello, Mr Khan.

Oh, hello, Dave.

Are you going to help me with my fundraising?

Get the community centre a new name...new roof!

I'd love to help, but I'm very busy.

We're using the community centre as a shelter for refugees

over the Christmas period.

We've got a cross-faith committee

led by a rabbi, a priest and an imam.

Is this some kind of joke?

What's a rabbi doing here?

We don't have anything in common with these people, Dave.

Apart from snippy-snipping.

This is charity in action, Mr Khan.

Surely, as a fundraiser, you're in favour of helping refugees.

Of course.

I think it's very important that we welcome in

the sad, the desperate and the disadvantaged.

We welcomed you, didn't we?

Anyway, everyone knows you're only raising money

so you can get the community centre named after you.

Whereas I am not doing this for personal recognition.

But because, well, as a Muslim, it's my duty to help those in need.

MOCKINGLY: "As a Muslim, it's my duty to help those in need."

Although, as it turns out,

-I am going to be getting some recognition, too.

-What?

Our community centre has been recognised by the Queen.

I'm going to a special Christmas dinner at Buckingham Palace tomorrow

to receive an award.

The Queen?!

Buckingham Palace?!

An award?!

An award... What for?

Outstanding services to the community.

Outstanding services to the community?!

-Yes.

-But...

-Yes?

-But...

-But what?

But that's me!

Mr Khan, I'm community leader, they all know me.

Mr Khan...

Has this got anything to do with Prince Harry?

Mr Khan...

I bet it is Prince Harry.

This is a ginger crony conspiracy!

Mr Khan...

I'll tell you what, this is nothing short of an absolute outrage!

-Mr Khan!

-What?

You're invited, too.

What a wonderful gesture.

Merry Christmas.

And a happy Hanukkah-schmonikka to you, too.

Then the Queen will say,

"How do you do, Mr Khan?"

Then I'll say, "How do you do, Your Majesty?"

Make sure you get a selfie, then I can put it on Instagram.

and then shell get tagged by William and Kate

and then, like, I'll be friends with them.

Ah, sweetie,

the Queen doesn't do "selfies".

She does "onesies".

Imagine, the Queen and me in a onesie together.

-Now, that would be something, wouldn't it?

-It really would.

Now, I need to create a good impression. Where's my briefcase?

-There you are.

-Oh, hello, darling. Have you seen my briefcase?

Well, never mind about that. You have to go and buy biscuits.

Shazia's brought the children round and we've run out.

-We've got lots of biscuits.

-Someone ate them all.

I'm sorry.

I didn't realise you rationed them.

I was considering issuing ration books,

but I thought you'd probably eat those, too!

-Just go.

-All right, I'll go in a minute.

I need to find my briefcase first.

-And I need you to help me with the Christmas dinner tomorrow.

-Yes, OK.

And at some point, you have to go over to Mrs Malik's house

-and unblock her sink.

-I've got a large accumulation of fat.

You're not kidding.

Sweetie, you don't understand.

You still haven't put up the Christmas lights

and I've been asking you to do it for days.

But I got my hands full already.

Dad, Amjad's off to work and I need to feed Little Mo.

-Can you change Nadia's nappy?

-Oh, twadi!

Is this your briefcase, sir?

No!

This is Grandpa's special case!

You mustn't stop him, Dad. You'll stifle his creativity.

Well done, Mo. Good boy.

What do you need that old briefcase for, anyway?

It's what I've been trying to tell you.

I've got a special dinner in London tomorrow.

I don't care if you're having dinner with the Queen of England

in Buckingham Palace.

Well, it's funny you should say that...

Tomorrow is Christmas Day and we need you here.

-But the community centre is getting an award.

-So what?

So what?!

I've been waiting for this moment for the past 30 years.

-Well, you can't go.

-But...

Stop.

It's Christmas Day and you need to be here with your family

and that's that.

Right!

Fine!

I'll change the crappy nappy!

Then I'll put the Boxing Christmas lights up!

And then I'll shove my hand up Mrs Malik's U-bend!

Because that's all I'm good for.

All the little jobs.

I'm not a big shot.

I'm not a businessman.

I'm not even a community leader!

I'm just a nobody!

Toilet not working.

Poor Mr Khan.

Instead of going to Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen,

with his executive briefcase,

he had to go to Mr Ali's Cash And Carry to buy a plunger.

'Proper businessman...

'Who was I kidding?'

'Stupid briefcase!

'I'll never need that ever again.'

Oh, twadi!

Oh, help!

Help! Oh, God!

No!

Argh!

There we are.

All safe and sound.

If you're after my wallet, you're wasting your time.

I threw it in the canal.

Along with my house keys and my mobile blooming phone.

Of course I'm not.

Do I look like a mugger?

A chugger, then. You're all after money.

Don't be such a silly, Mr Khan.

You know who I am?

Of course I do. You're my mission.

I was sent by a higher power to help you.

Oh, not Reverend Green, who knocks on our door every Christmas!

Higher than that.

Look, Mrs... Whoever you are.

Well, I suppose you could call me...

Angel-a.

Right.

Or Angel-ena.

Or Angel-ica.

I'm saying...

I'm an angel.

You know, from heaven.

OK.

Obviously, I'm not actually an angel.

Obviously.

I mean, I haven't got my wings yet.

Well, it's been lovely chitty-chatting, but I have to go.

No! Don't do it.

-You've got so much to live for.

-What?

-You were going to jump in the canal.

-No, I wasn't.

I'm trying to get my briefcase back.

But I might as well jump into the canal. What difference does it make?

Oh, how can you say that?

Every life has meaning.

Not mine. I wanted to be somebody.

"Mr Khan, they all know me."

I was just kidding myself.

I'm a nobody.

I should never have moved to Sparkhill.

What if you never did?

What?

I'm going to show you what Sparkhill would be like without you.

SHE CHANTS

SHE ULULATES

And they say Muslims are weird.

-Well, what do you think?

-About what?

Sparkhill, as it would be if you'd never moved here.

-Right, you do realise it's all the same.

-Is it?

-Yes.

-Is it, though?

-Yes, it is, though.

Hang on, where is Tasty Fried Chicken?

Ah-ha, you see?

Without you here, they've gone out of business.

Sparkhill without a chicken shop, has the world gone mad?

And look over there.

-That should be Mr Ali's Cash And Carry.

-He's gone, too.

But what about my cheap toilet rolls?

Without the amount you buy, he's gone out of business, as well.

What's going on? Is this some kind of trick?

I told you, this is a version of Sparkhill where you never existed.

Riaz!

It's me. Your old friend, Mr Khan.

What are you doing? Muslims don't drink!

I lost my faith a long time ago.

But you're the funeral director at the mosque.

Wow...

That's what I should have done. Where were you 25 years ago?

Right, just stop messing around, huh,

and just tell this crazy woman that you know me.

-I've never met you before in my life.

-Has she paid you to do this?

-Stop lying!

-Keep back!

I wear Hai Karate.

Riaz!

I realise it's a lot for you to take in.

This can't be real. This is just a dream.

Do I look like a dream to you?

Ow!

-So you're really an angel?

-Angel-in-waiting.

But why did they send you to me? You do know I'm Muslim?

Oh, that's OK.

We're all mixed up together up there - Christians, Muslims, Jews.

Turns out we were all right.

-What about the Hindus?

-Ah, no, I'm afraid not.

I knew it!

We're just one big, happy family.

We do each other's festivals and everything.

Christmas, Eid, Rosh Hashana...

How's that working out for you?

Ramadan's pretty tough.

Now, close your eyes. There's one more thing I want you to see.

-But this is just a community centre.

-Is it, though?

Yes, it is, though!

You can open them now.

What do you think?

Is this...

..heaven?

No, it's a pound shop.

It looks like heaven to me!

Trust me, heaven's nothing like this.

So what happened to the community centre?

Without you, Mr Khan, there is no community centre.

What?

Well, for 25 years, you were the one constant in that place.

Mosque managers, caretakers, they all came and went.

But you were always there.

Well, I am the only one who knows how to fiddle the electric meter.

You kept that place going.

And they still never named the place after me.

But without you, it didn't survive.

It was bought up by some greedy businessman.

Oi, you two, buy something or clear off.

Ha-ha, hello, Dave!

It is Dave, isn't it?

That's right. Dave Prentice. This is my shop.

Ha! Are you the greedy businessman?

Yes.

Ginger Dave!

Are you taking the ginger biscuit?

I find that term offensive.

Chill-ax, Davey. It's just a bit of banter between friends.

I'm not your friend.

Keith!

Oh, Keithy! My next door neighbour.

AS KEITH: Salman I like him, Mr Khan.

Sorry?

We're not neighbours.

The house next door to me has been left to rot for 25 years.

How dare you? Anyway, you're the one who put the wallpaper up.

Buy something or clear off.

Keith!

Excuse me, sir. How much is this?

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

One pound.

Oh...!

Erm, what about this?

That's one pound, too.

Everything's a pound. It's a pound shop.

I never thought of that. Thank you, sir.

That's OK, Amjad.

At least you know who I am.

No, I...I did think I do.

Yes, you do. You just call me sir. You always call me sir.

Mummy says it's polite to call people sir.

Amjad, hurry up. We can't be seen in here.

Let's go before anyone recognises us.

I see you haven't changed. You're still the same, huh.

Amjad's not the same, though.

He looked up to you.

Now he's stuck at home with his mother.

He'll survive. They all will.

Hello, sweetie.

Oh...

-Hello.

-So you know who I am?

Of course I know who you are. We were married, weren't we?

Were?

-Well, it was 25 years ago.

-I know. It was the happiest day of my life.

Oh, mine, too.

And then you got a briefcase and became a proper businessman.

I always wanted to be a proper businessman.

And then you went off on your business trips

and stayed away for weeks in five-star hotels.

These five-star hotels,

did they have infinity pools and executive suites?

Idiot!

-And then one day you never came back.

-What?

And that was the end of it. Since then, it's just been me and my mum.

-But what about our children?

-What children?

-Alia and Shazia.

-Who?

Don't you see, Mr Khan?

They never existed.

Oh, it can't be.

And we had grandchildren, too.

Little Mo and Baby Nadia.

-I don't know what you're talking about.

-Sweetie, tell me...

Tell me this isn't real.

Tell me you're still my little gulab jamun.

Stay away from me.

You made your choice. You left me and you left Sparkhill.

Come on, Mum.

No... Wait!

Come back!

Come back!

I want to live in Sparkhill!

I want to live in Sparkhill!

I want to live in Sparkhill! I want to live in Sparkhill!

-Mr Khan...

-I want to live in Sparkhill!

Mr Khan... Are you OK?

Riaz?

-I fished this out of the canal.

-Have you seen a woman, about this tall?

Hang on...you know my name.

You're Mr Khan. They all know do.

And this is Sparkhill?

Sparkhill with a chicken shop and a community centre

-and a cash-and-carry?

-Yes.

And Mrs Khan...

and Alia

and the other one?

Yes.

And you're a big, fat Muslim undertaker?

-OK.

-Oh, Riaz.

Don't take this the wrong way...

..but I love you!

Sparkhill!

Yeah!

Hello, Sparkhill!

Merry Christmas, Mr Ali's Cash-And-Carry!

Woohoo!

Merry Christmas, my Pakistani people!

Woohoo!

Merry Christmas, Tasty Fried Chicken!

Make mine a bargain bucket and six extra hot wings!

Whoa!

Argh!

Watch it!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

I should have let him go and get his silly award.

What if he's done something stupid?

If he's not coming back, can I have his chair?

-Is that all you can think of?

-No, you're right.

Can I had his footstool, too?

I'm back!

Oh, buggers!

Where have you been? We've all been so worried.

Well, some of us have.

I've been...getting Christmas presents.

You stupid, stupid man!

How could you go off like that? We called and called.

What on earth were you thinking of? Why...?

Oh!

Well, I think that covers everything.

I'm so glad to be back...

..with all my family.

My lovely, beautiful daughter Alia.

And other daughter...Shazia.

Also lovely and beautiful.

And Amjad's here, too.

I love you all.

And I wouldn't change a thing about any of you.

-Shall I cook us something?

-No, thank you.

DOORBELL RINGS

Who's that?

-I ordered us a Tasty Fried Chicken for us on the way home.

-Yeah!

I come bearing wings!

What an angel.

Here you are.

-Now, give me a nappy to change.

-You don't have to do that.

No, but I want to.

I love poop.

Lovely, lovely poopy!

He's just doing all this so he can go to Buckingham Palace tomorrow.

No, I'm not, you great big biscuit barrel!

There's only one palace I want to be in.

And I'm standing in it right now,

right here, in Sparkhill.

And so our story ends happily for Mr Khan,

who spent another lovely poopy Christmas with his family.

You know, this is the best Christmas ever.

I've learned...

that people you love are all that matters.

And in our own small way...

we can all make a difference in this world.

-Isn't that right?

-A doggy!

Exactly.