Dug Still Game

-No' even 10am and we're ringin'.

-My drawers are soaking.

-Ye shoulda went before ye came out.

-Very funny, Jack.

That's Craiglang for ye. It's eternally winter here.

A bloody vortex.

That's it. I've made my mind up. I'm gonnae kill myself.

-That's if ye dinnae drown first.

-THUNDER

Have ye never fancied going on holiday, Victor?

-What, Spain?

-No, Hong Kong. America. A big adventure holiday.

Naw. It's a big enough adventure getting across to the bloody shops.

I've always fancied it, you know. Africa. Doon the Nile.

-Up the Congo. The Taj Mahal.

-Getting there's the problem.

14 hours on a flight at oor age. That would drive ye doolally.

Aye. The flight would kill ye.

Knees under the chin, waitin' on yer luggage at the other side.

Blood clot. Thrombosis. Then they have to fly your corpse home.

And yer down with the bananas and spiders. Deid. Some holiday, that!

Aye.

Oh! That's good. That was quick.

Gonnae pick that up for me?

-What's this, then?

-It's a tape fae my Fiona.

-Oh, aye?

-Aye. I got it a couple of days ago, but they don't play here,

so I'd to take it over to Shug and he transferred it.

-How don't they play?

-Cos they're Canadian. The tape's different.

How is it different?

Because when you... You know how you've got the tape...?

The wheel goes...

-The tape goes across from... It's very technical.

-Technical, eh?

Thank you, Christopher Hawkings.

-Eh?

-Christopher Hawkings. Thanking you.

Who is Christopher Hawkings?

The brainy bastard. In the wheelchair. With the voice.

-No, Stephen Hawkings.

-Aye. What did I say?

-Christopher Hawkings.

-Did I?

-Aye. What about him, anyway?

-Nothing. De ye want a cup of tea?

-Aye. I'll put this tape on.

Look at that, Navid.

-It's lashing down.

-Here, Isa.

-Did you see Stars In Their Eyes?

-Naw, naw.

Me and Meena never miss it. ..Isn't that right, Meena?

..Thanks for joining in, ya boot.

You should've seen the wee prick who won it. Frank Sinatra. Garbage!

-He was five feet!

-He must have sounded like Sinatra if he won it.

Did he, buggery! Nobody sounds like Sinatra.

This guy was more like a gay Sinatra.

A tottie, wee, midget, gay Sinatra. Prick.

It's no' like me to miss it. I'd love to be on that.

-De ye know who I'd like to be?

-Mama Cass?

-Naw.

-Who?

-Patsy Cline.

-Patsy Cline?

-Aye.

-You'd be a good Patsy Cline. Gie's a blast.

-Naw!

Come on! The shop is empty.

CLEARS HER THROAT

# Craaz-eee...

# Im crazy for feeling...

# So lonelee-ee...

# ..eee-eeee-eeee-eee...#

Tonight, Matthew, I will be a bag of kittens drowning in the canal.

I think yer being a bit harsh there, Navid.

I always thought you had a beautiful voice, sweetheart.

-No, Harry. I'm not even wanting to speak to ye.

-Darling, hear me oot!

Naw, naw. I'm not interested in what ye've got to say!

-'Hello, Dad!'

-Hello!

She looks smashing, doesn't she?

-'Hi, Grandpa!'

-Listen to their accents.

- Hi, Jack! - That's Tony, boy.

'What's going on over here? ..Jack and Stephen are cooking burgers!

-'How many burgers are you cooking?

-Five.

-Why five?

-'Cos we're cooking one for you, Grandad!

-Can you smell that?

'Take a bite!'

Looks smashing.

They've done you a burger, Jack.

What's the matter, Jack?

Ach, nothing.

That tape caught me off guard there, that's all.

Seeing the size of the grand-weans, and that.

Always the same. Every time she sends me one of these tapes

I sit doon, all excited, and then it just depresses me.

What does?

Missing them and that, you know.

I should have bloody emigrated with them, when they asked me.

Aye.

I sometimes wish I'd done that with my John in Johannesburg...

but...ach...ye cannae, can ye?

Suppose they end up moving again?

That's YOU to move again.

And yer just following them roon like a pup.

That's not life.

Naw, it isnae.

Oor life's here.

-Aye.

-Pish, eh?

Aye, it's pish.

Come on, we'll get a pint.

"Matthew."

No, it doesnae look like a Matthew.

-How many did you take?

-Three. Patch...Fido and Rex.

-Fly bastard.

Ye've swiped all the good dug names and left us wi' all the shite.

What can I say? I'm the landlord. It's my caird.

"Richard..." Richard the dog?

Chris... Chris. I'll take Christopher. Chris the dug.

Oh, look who it is. Batman and Robin!

Aye. We'll accept that, if you go Catwoman, ya pussy.

-Jack, Victor. Harry's back.

-Aw, no, yer joking?

Name the dug. I've two left.

-We're no wantin' a dug.

-It's an electric dug.

A dug wi' a plug? It runs on batteries.

Naw! Bloody daft, electric dug.

It's for charity. How much? 50p a name.

I'll take the last two.

Right, Matthew or Richard?

Matthew. Matt the dug.

And I'll take Richard.

-Dick the dug.

-Ye can get done for that.

Isa! Isa, sweetheart! Please!

-Stay away fae me, Harry. I've telt ye already.

-I know, darling.

The last thing I want is to be hassling ye. But I'm down a hole.

-I've got nowhere to go!

-Harry,

all my life, ye've cheated on me, lied to me, even stole from me.

And I've taken ye back time and time again and for what?

Only for you to leave me. I'll not be made a laughing stock any more!

So ye'd leave me standin' here? Homeless?

Like a dug in the street? Without the price of a pint?

Here.

This isnae a loan, Harry.

It's a gift. And it's the last gift ye'll ever get from me!

Isa, I don't need to remind you... my name's on that door.

I'll buy a new name plate, then!

Let's stop playing games, Isa! I love you!

Well, I don't love YOU! I've met someone else.

-What? Who?

-None of your business! Now, leave me alone!

Sherry, Bobby.

-All right, Isa?

-Naw. Harry's back.

-Aye, we know.

-And that's not all! I've telt him I've got a fella!

-Eh?

-Your sherry.

Lager, please, Bobby. Allow me, sweetheart.

-I'm paying for Isa's, Harry.

-You're the new fella?

That's right.

Cracking woman. Bit of a gabshite, but generally lovely.

Er.. Bobby, who's won the dug?

-Looks like I have.

-Eh?

-Nothing.

-Scrape it aff.

Attention, everybody! >

The winner of the Name-the-dog competition is...

Matthew.

Smashing.

Gies my dug.

Come here, Matthew.

-ELECTRONIC YAPPING

-Is that it?

Ye've got to give it commands. Train it and that.

Matthew...bite his baws!

What time is it there?

It's half past eight here. ..Aye, I got it.

I'm just after watching it. It was absolutely fantastic.

Jack and Stephen look a right handful.

Aye, oh, aye.

Have you lost weight?

You're not as broad in the arse as ye used to be!

I'm only winding ye up, God's sake!

Aye, I'm fine. Aye, I've never been rosier.

Victor? Aye, he's fine and all.

He's got a dug now.

Eh? No, not a real dug. No, it's a gold dug.

Eh?

Och, never mind.

It's just a gold...a gold...

Awf, I don't know about that.

When were you thinking?

Oh, well, that's a bit soon.

Can I think aboot it?

Oh, right.

I don't know. The morra? ..I'll phone you the morra.

Right.

Eh?

Oh, no, that's fine, then. No, that's fine.

I'll speak to you the morra. All right? See you then.

Canada...

BUZZ!

-Oh-ho. Here we go.

-Morning, Navid.

-Morning, Harry.

-20 Benson and Hedges.

I hear my Isa's, er... hooked up with Winston.

-How do you mean, hooked up?

-Going out...together.

Winston and Isa? That's a belter, right enough! Winston hates Isa.

Naw, Harry. Check your Y-fronts. Someone's pulling your pisser.

20 Benson and Hedges.

-Ye couldnae possibly let me have them on the...?

-No, no, no, no, no.

Sorry did I say no there? I meant to say NO!

C'mon, Navid. Isa'll gie ye the money back.

Jesus. Tapping Isa in her absence. Unbelievable.

-It's only 20 fags, Navid.

-Do you see buttons, a zipper, Velcro,

or any other fastening device? No!

Sling yer hook, ye panhandling bastard.

-How long have I to walk aboot with ye? I'm choking for a pint.

-Lager?

-At this time of day?

-We've only been going oot two minutes and yer nagging already! I want a divorce!

-It's just for a couple of days, Winston...

-Hello.

-Hello.

..till Harry gets the message.

It's the message everybody else is getting I'm worried about.

Oh, God!

-Give us yer arm.

-Nae touching. That is not part of the deal.

-Please!

Right.

-Harry.

-Isa... Winston.

-Harry.

-Thanks for walking me to my work...

-Pumpkin.

-Pumpkin?

-Oh, nae problem, pumpkin.

-Now, away and get yersel' a pint.

A pint? Oh, that's a rare idea.

It's not many girlfriends that let you go for a pint. ..Is it, Harry?

No, it is not!

Don't make anything for tonight's tea. I'll bring in yer favourite.

-Ohh, my favourite! Which is a sausage supper.

-I know that!

I know you know that.

Well, then...

goodbye, Winston.

Jesus!

Eh...

That was smashing! Yum-yum!

Wag yer wee tail.

Naw?

Bark!

Nothing. Are ye hungry?

Listen, are ye hungry?

"Clap your hands and the dug will flip."

Flip! Flip!

Hey-ho.

Hello, Jack.

How are ye getting on with the wee dug?

Och, not so well. I think he's depressed.

Depressed? Your plastic dug's depressed?

Look, it says here, if ye dinnae tend to it, it gets depressed.

A boy skated by here five minutes ago

and wee Matthew here wandered out in front of him. He's suicidal!

You can help do it in. Aye. Take his wee batteries out. Euthanasia.

-Very funny. Where have ye been, anyway?

-Eh?

Thomsons, the travel agents. I'm going to visit my Fiona.

I'm going to Canada.

-Yer no'! For a wee holiday?

-Aye. A fortnight.

-That's smashin'. Good for you. When are ye going?

-Next Friday.

Jesus! That's quick.

I was gonnae say, why don't you go and see your John in Jo'burg?

-That'll save you sitting about on yer arse while I'm away.

-Eh?

-I cannae drop that on them.

-Pish! Gie them a phone.

Never you mind about me. I'll be fine.

-Why don't ye come wi' me, then?

-Jack, give it a rest!

I'm no' daft. I'll no' go to rack and ruin in the fortnight yer away!

-Fiona's always asking after ye. They'd be glad to see ye.

-Naw, Jack.

-Promise me you'll phone your John?

-Aye, all right.

Canada, eh? Must be chuffed.

Aye. Jack Jarvis Esquire. Canada bound!

It flipped because I clapped. It says here!

Rubbish. I clapped and it did hee-haw.

He's low. He's no' coming out of himself. He's no' happy.

-You know why that is?

-How?

It's cos he's not got a cock.

-Shut up!

-I'm telling ye.

That's why Action Man's face is always tripping him.

-Don't listen to him, Matthew.

-So?

-So what?

-Are you phoning your John?

-Eh? Oh...naw.

Come on, get him phoned. Tell him you want to come out next week.

-I know what he'll say.

-What?

-"Naw."

-Ye don't know that for sure.

-Aye, I dae. He's always letting me doon.

-He's no' like your Fiona. He'll say naw.

-Right, I'll put the kettle on.

Why don't you just phone him and tell him yer wanting a wee holiday?

Hello. John? Aye, it's your da.

How's it going, son?

Aye, good, good. ..No, no, nothing, nothing.

I was just gonnae say...

Jack's going to Canada. ..Aye. And I was thinking...

No, no... No, I was gonnae come and see youse, you know,

rather than sit on my arse for a fortnight while Jack's away.

End of next week.

Aye, I know it's soon, aye.

Wee bit last minute, eh?

Well, what aboot the following week, then?

Are ye?

Ach, well.

Not at all. I thought it might be tight...

Well, when would be best?

To come over?

Right, I'll phone ye.

Naw, naw, I've gotta go. There's somebody at the door.

Eh? I know. No, I know.

Gie my best to the boy, eh? ..Right. I'll see ye now.

-How did that go?

-How did that go?

-Lousy. That's how it went, stupid bastard.

-How am I a stupid bastard?

I told you he'd say no but you're at me - "Phone him, phone him!"

-Happy now? I've phoned him and he's chased me.

-Maybe he's busy, Victor.

Aye, I could hear the wheels turning, trying to think up a reason.

-What was the reason?

-A convention in Cape Town. Lot of shite.

Well, that's that, then. Just come with me. My Fiona says...

Your Fiona. Your Fiona. That's right, your Fiona's an angel, eh?

"Come over, Dad, and bring as many of your sad old pals as ye want."

-Wait a minute!

-No, YOU wait a minute! I'm not a charity case!

-I was doing fine till you brought all this up!

-Now, look, Victor...

I know fine how much my boy isnae interested in me.

But YOU railroaded me into being reminded of the fact!

-I thought you needed a holiday!

-I'll be getting a holiday - from YOU!

-Fine!

-Good!

DOOR SLAMS >

..Oh, Matthew!

# She may be the face I can't forget

# A trace of pleasure or regret

# May be my treasure or the price I have to pay

# She may be the song that summer sings

# May be the chill that autumn brings

# May be a hundred tearful things

# Within the measure of a day

# She may be the beauty or the beast

# May be the famine or the feast

# May turn each day into heaven or hell

# She may be... # SONG FADES

Goldie, Bobby.

-You obviously didnae get that in here. That looks edible.

-Don't ask.

-Is Harry still hangin' aboot?

-Aye. Like a shadow.

He's playing pool the noo. He's waiting for us to slip up.

How long's that been?

A week noo. It's not that. Every night I've tae walk her hame,

and sit for an hour to make sure creepy-breeks isn't hanging about.

How's things wi' you and Victor? Still no' talking?

Naw. And I'm no' wanting it to drag on cos I'm away in the morning.

Pint of lager, please, Bobby.

I'll get that.

Thanks, Jack.

So, er...away in the morning, eh?

Aye. It would have been good if you could have came with us.

Aye, well, maybe next time, eh?

Listen, I didnae mean to force ye into phoning your John, you know.

Jack...my son cannae be arsed,

and I shouldnae be taking that out on you.

-How's wee Matthew?

-That arsehole?! Two hours I lost him for yesterday.

-Where did I find him? In the oven!

-Tried to gas himself?

-Aye.

-Are you no' taking a pint?

-Naw. I've packing to dae.

-Och, take a wee pint. Just to see you off.

-Aye, all right.

-Am I not to get one?

-Naw. Too many pints affects yer performance!

Right enough, Bobby! ..C'mon, you! You're nae use to me all floppy!

Floppy?! Where the hell did that come fae?

I'm sorry, Winston! It was oot before I realised!

Harry was was making me all jumpy.

He must have the message by now. So I'm off the hook,

we can get back to wur ain thing.

It's not been that bad, has it?

I've always got a drink in, and ye enjoy my sandwiches and cakes!

And we've had a good laugh tae!

When?

The other night, we were watching the news, and Jackie Bird came on

and I said, "Do you think when her and her man are starting to make love, she shouts, 'This just in!' "

-DOORBELL

-Oh, God!

Who's that?

-It might be Harry!

-Calm doon. ..C'mon.

It's him, right enough.

-What'll we dae?

-Just ignore it. He'll go away!

-KEYS RATTLE IN LOCK

-He's still got his keys!

(Jesus!)

Isa?

Isa!

Isa, sweetheart!

There's nothing floppy here!

I knew fae the beginning.

Nae offence, Winston, but you're hardly a match.

The lengths I've went to to get the message across.

-I know, darlin'.

-It's finished. Can ye no' just accept it?

I'll see myself out.

Goodbye, Isa.

Goodbye, Harry.

-How are ye?

-Aye, good.

-Looking forward to the flight?

I'll wait and see who's sitting here first.

You generally get an arsehole on a long-haul flight.

Oh, naw! The windae seat! I've got a weak bladder, an' all!

I'll be up and doon like a bloody yo-yo!

-New York, eh?

-Eh?

Only kidding, son!

Toronto!

Yer not supposed to drink yer ain, but I'm not waiting an hour

-for that bevvy trolley to come up! A wee dram?

-No, yer all right.

Is there a film? But I'll no' be paying for headphones.

I said I'll no' pay for headphones!

# Come fly with me! Float down to Peru! #

Look at these people, they look like ants!

Oh, they ARE ants! We've not taken off yet!

-14A? come on.

-Victor!

-All right, Jack?

You're a fly bastard!

I booked it yesterday.

I'm no' sittin' on my arse for two weeks while you have a guid time!

Oh, not the windae seat! I've got a weak bladder, an all. I'll be up and doon like a bloody yo-yo!

New York, eh?

Toronto...

Aye, Toronto.

Jeezo.

WOOF!

Oh! Woof!

Oh!

-Happy wee thing, eh?

-Aye!