Who's the Daddy Still Game

This programme contains adult humour

You send me a postcard now.

Aye... OK, right you are. I love you too, darlin'.

All-righty, see you now. Bye... Bye.

How's Fiona getting on?

Aye good, aye. That's them away to Alaska for a fortnight campin'.

Alaska, off to Alaska.

That's the great thing about Canada, eh?

-Adventure holidays.

-Aye, can ye imagine Alaska?

Grizzly bears.

They're gonna go fishing. They're going whale watchin'!

Whale watchin'?

I would love tae see a whale.

Aye, aye, so would I.

-Very satisfying that, you know.

-What's that?

Well, knowing that your family are all settled.

Whenever Fiona phones she's never got a problem.

Always up to this and that, going here and there.

It's only when you get to our stage in life and your family's up and away,

then you can truly say that your hoose is in order.

Aye, all is right in the world.

No more roads to travel.

See when I'm sleeping at night, say if the reaper was to come calling, I think I'd be ready to receive him.

Aye?

Aye, he'd put his hand on my shoulder.

And without protest, I'd sit up with my feet in my slippers, which would be neatly positioned beside the bed.

Pull on my housecoat, and then I'd follow him.

-That's nice, Jack.

-Aye, and I was passin' your door,

I would give it a wee chap and say "farewell old friend!"

Mmm...

I'd hear you chapping, get up, go to the door, look through the peephole

-and I wood nae open it!

-Eh?

Well, first of all, you've got me out of my bed in the middle of the night and for what?

To see ya standing there wi' a nine foot shrouded figure wi' a sickle!

That'll be bloody right!

Oh well, that's nice, so we don't get to say cheerio then?

Indeed we do not! Bloody skull face and boney hand!

Soon as I open that door he's gonna go, "That's handy, there's two of them!

"Come here, that'll save me coming back up the lift again later!"

Don't talk pish. That's not how the reaper works.

He calls for a man alone.

Was he sayin' that to you, was he? Are ye pally wi' the reaper?

No, but if I was I'd get him to put your name at the top of the bloody list!

D'you see what an arsehole you truly are?

-How am I an arsehole?

-'Cause the reaper's come for you and you've dogged me in!

-That's how I'm not opening the door! What ye doin'?

-I'm gonna get a screwdriver.

I'm gonna screw my nameplate on yours so if he does come, he'll take you first, ya cheeky bastard!

Right. A fella on a motorbike and his wee pal in the sidecar go off a cliff.

Boof. Deed!

-What aboot it?

-That's your theory about the reaper blown right oot the window.

-"The reaper calls for a man alone."

-Maybe there's more than one reaper.

-Aw, shite!

-What?

Bobby's fancy dress party.

I forgot about that.

Aww, so did I.

Ach, up him! Just tell him we forgot.

Naw, he said ye weren't getting in without fancy dress. "Nae costume, nae pint", he said.

I'm choking for a pint. What aboot this?

Shower of bastards!

Is it too much to ask? One night?

One lousy night? I ask you to make one wee bit of effort and it's, "We cannae be bothered."

My boy was gonna lend me his police outfit. But he needs it - he's on the back shift.

I was comin' as Kylie.

I was all dressed then the arse burst oot of ma wee hot pants and that was that.

Tadaaa!

Who are you supposed to be?

-I'm Victor.

-And I'm Jack. Look. I've even got the pipe.

-Two pints, Totalius Prickamus.

-Make it snappy, Bawbagumus.

Excellent. Thanks for the effort, lads.

-What's the big deal anyway?

-It was important to me.

To the pub.

-Ah, Mr. Kerr. Can I get you a pint?

-I suppose so, Aye.

You're quiet tonight, Bobby.

It'll busy up later once all the fancy dressers turn up.

Aye, well. Good.

Actually. Hold the beer. The news is nae good. We signed a deal this morning.

So when am I er...

Friday.

I'm sorry.

Thanks for...popping by.

-What was all that about, Bobby?

-Who wants a drink?

-I'm buying.

-What we celebrating?

We're celebrating the pub being sold from under me by the brewers.

The pub closes on Friday. For good.

Drinks are on me.

I'll have a large whisky and a lager then, Bobby.

Vogue! Strike a pose!

There's really nothing tae it!

Vo-o-o-ogue!

I've just been into the chippy for ma dinner and the lassie

says Antonio's shutting because the Clansman's shutting.

Can you clarify this, Isa, or is the lassie on glue?

Update please.

Aye, she's right enough. A big property developer's gonna knock the Clansman doon and build hooses.

It's a sad day right enough.

Jeez-oh! Nae pub? That hardly bears thinking aboot. What's that?

Protest. The Clansman shutting is only the beginning. Look at the chippy.

There's a lot of passing trade. I'll no' be long behind them.

-You shut the only pub in the town. The whole town dies.

-It's no that bad, Navid.

The place is a dump.

It's like an atom bomb.

The Clansman is the epicentre, the fallout affects everything.

Well, I imagine there are one or two historians who disagree

that the shutting of the Clansman's on a par with Hiroshima.

I can just see the boys on the Enola Gay -

"Brad, I'm right sorry about that Hiroshima thing.

"Don't worry, Chip! We'll console ourselves with a pint down the Clansman."

"Oh no, we cannae" It's knocked doon! That's worse!"

That attitude stinks, boy.

The pub's the heart of a community.

See this? You could do worse than put one of these on and come doon and protest at these bastards!

At least Navid cares about the community.

Look what he's done - a completely selfless act

for the benefit of Craiglang. Thank you, Navid.

-Aye all right.

-There you are.

Smashin' turn out, lads.

I'm bloody freezing. Are we lighting this or what?

Aye. We've got paper in there, firelighters, kindling, petrol.

Oh smashin'! That's a rare heat, that.

Here we go. Hello there, darling.

-Would ye care to sign this petition to save the Clansman?

-Aye so I will!

Ma man's never oot that shitehole!

-Sooner they pull it doon the better!

-Thanks again now.

How many names have we got?

Names, names... Let me see.

J Jarvis esq of Osprey Heights and a Mr V McDade, also of Osprey Heights.

-That's it.

-Eh?

-You signed this yet?

This is good of ye, lads.

Some nourishment for the protesters, eh?

Ho ho, Bobby ma man! Hot pies!

Um... Cold pies. The microwave's still humped.

Jesus.

Ho ho, Who's this?

-Looks like the gaffer.

-'Scuse me, son. Can we have a word wi' ye?

-Are these your men?

-They are, yes.

-And you are?

-I'm Chris Howden. I'm the developer.

-Hands off our pub, ya arsehole!

-How's your protest going?

-Very well thank you.

-Have you got many signatures?

-Hundreds.

-Look. It's pissing down. Come in. Let me buy you a pint.

Indeed we will not take a pint off ye.

That's blood yer asking us to drink!

-Buyin' us off wi' yer charity!

-But we normally take a pint at this time of day so OK!

We've been drinkin' in here for years, haven't we?

You pull this place down, we'll have nowhere to go.

Hmm, it's no' just us, I mean Bobby there.

It's his livelihood.

I hear what yer sayin', lads. But it's...

Let's just say it's business.

There must be other pubs to go to, surely.

That's it, son. There's no.

The nearest pub fae here's two mile away and it's a bear pit into the bargain.

This pub here's like a way of life for a lot of people, you know?

You want another?

I'll get them.

He stands up, his troosers are all ripped, but he's still got a hold o' my tie!

Hears the door, turns roon',

and Isa's standing there!

-HE WHISPERS:

-Here, Jack.

He's warmin' up a bit, eh?

Aye. I think he might be having second thoughts.

-Great pie, Bobby! Very tasty!

-Thanks very much.

I sent oot to Greggs for them.

The man says that's weird, cos he didn't like the book at all!

-Right. I'll get them in, shall I?

-Wait a minute, son.

Noo, ye said pullin' doon the pub was just business.

But look at us sitting here, wi' you!

Laughing. Having a good time.

What reason could you have for pulling down a good pub?

-How long have yous lived here?

-All our days.

-We married Craiglang lasses, brought our weans up here.

-All our lives.

-So you'll remember when this pub was built?

-Remember? We were the first customers!

No ye weren't. I slept on the doorstep the night before so I'd be first.

Here's the question. What stood on this ground before?

-Hooses?

-Was it no the wee miners' cottages?

Wee white cottages. Tiny they were.

That's right. That's where my mother was brought up. Number six.

Exactly where this pub's standing.

She left Craiglang. When she was 20. Because she was pregnant with me.

Aye, there was a lot of that.

Single mum, in those days... It was frowned upon.

My mother always said you have to look after yourself.

So one night, she up and left.

Brought me up in Galashiels.

She died last year.

So... I'm gonna build a row of cottages in her honour.

Name the street after her.

That's a nice thing, that.

I don't think there's anybody who'd decry you for that.

Bobby?

-Aye?

-You're up the shitter!

It's a good thing right enough.

What was yer mammy's name, son?

Jenny. Jenny Turnbull.

-Tell us again.

-We'd be about 20, 21 at the time.

We were aye fallin' oot then makin' up again. The nooky?

Unbelievable. Every night. We were at it like knives.

-She could do this thing wi' her tongue...

-How long did you go out with her?

Aboot six month in all.

Then she disappeared.

That's how I'm shiting myself.

I've got tae be that boy's da! It can only be me.

Well...

-Well, what?

-Ye said yourself yous were always arguing.

Fallin' oot'. She came to ma door one night, blubbin'...

callin' you aw the bastards.

I brung her in, gave her comfort.

-We opened a wee half bottle and...

-And...

I pumped her.

-Pumped her? Ya lousy bastard!

-We were half cut, Winston!

-You've kept that from me all these years!

-We were young! That's what ye did!

That's what ye did?! Ye pumped yer best pal's girlfriend!

You have got to be the dirtiest, lousiest bastard I've ever set eyes upon!

Well, eh, second lousiest...

-Eh?

-Aye, er...

-HE WHISTLES

-You an' all!

-Roon' the back of the dance hall.

I know what ye mean aboot the tongue.

-Dirty lousy bastard!

-You! Up!

-I'm gonna knock you out!

-How ye gonna knock me oot? It's him ye want to knock oot.

-How?

-Well... He done it...first!.

-Right enough! I'm gonna knock YOU out!

Winston, this is stupid!

Aye, you're right enough.

Och. It is daft.

That was a long time ago, that.

We were just daft young boys at the time.

-We, we're pals noo.

-We are pals, aye.

-That's what makes it all the harder to take.

-What?

Yous two lousy bastards STIRRING MA PORRIDGE!

You calmed doon yet, ya daftie?

Aye I've calmed doon. C'mere and see this. Two halfs, Bobby.

I dug this oot. Look at that - I dunno how I didn't tipple at the time.

-LAUGHTER

-Spotted!

It's a bloody mess right enough, in't it?

-Aye... Cannae believe ma pub's shuttin' after aw this time.

-No you. Us!

-Oh.

-Thanks for your concern.

-Oh, sorry.

-It's just... Doesn't matter.

-What's the matter wi' yous?

Nothing. Don't you worry aboot it. You've got enough on yer plate, son.

-You're supposed to tell ya barman ya troubles.

-Can you keep a secret?

-Of course.

-It's a big yin, mind.

-Right. I'm all ears.

-D'ye know that developer boy?

Mmm-hmm.

Well, we...knew his mother.

Mmm-hmm.

You know... We KNEW his mother.

That's boggin! Ya clatty auld bastards!

These are new brogues, Bobby!

Ye see? One of us is the da.

-Who?

-Exactly. We don't know.

-This is great!

-How's it great?

You've got to tell him. You could save this pub!

-How?

-What heartless bastard would pull down his old man's local?

No, no, no Bobby. We need time to figure oot how to broach this.

You've no' got time! This pub'll be rubble by Friday.

You've got tae sort it out! Find out! You owe me!

-How do we owe you?

-I've worked in here since I was 18, putting up with your shite, your patter.

Being the butt of the jokes, feedin' and waterin' yous.

Looking after yous.

Serving you.

-Lager, Bobby.

-Shut yer hole, ya dick!

Look. Find out who the da is.

-How would we go about that?

-Spend a bit of time with him. You'll know who the da is.

-You'll see it in him.

-Then what?

Then ye give it. "Look, son. Your ma was a roaster.

"Her knickers were only on to keep her ankles warm.

"I'm yer da, how do you do?

"Please don't pull down ma local!

"Go on, do your old da a favour!"

Poetry, Bobby. Pure poetry.

Listen. Howden's throwing a party in here for everybody tomorrow night.

The last night of the Clansman.

You've got to sort it oot by then. Otherwise I'm humped.

-What was aw that aboot?

-What?

Now now, Bobby. I've got to be told what yous were all hushed up and whispering aboot.

You're not on, Isa. I've been sworn to secrecy.

Ah. So it is a secret. Look, Bobby. You've started to tell me already.

Back off, Isa. You've met yer match. I'm a barman. I can keep a secret.

Oh, aye. We'll see about that, will we?

Give us ma sherry over, Peggy.

So... I'll ask you one more time.

The developer boy. He could be the son of Jack,

Victor,

or Winston.

That wasn't so hard, was it?

No. That will all be wet cast. Just like the original.

Hello.

-Can I help ye?

-No you're fine, son. Fella. Mr. Laddy. Man. Man!

I'm just looking at the plans for the cottages. Like a look?

Aye. OK.

That's my mum's cottage there. It'll be 12 weeks to completion.

Oh, Jeez-oh! Look at that.

-It's two o'clock.

-Bugger!

Where's that remote?

There it's there, son.

Got a horse on. Shit, it's started!

Is that Chepstow? I've got a horse in that.

Come on... Come on... Come on!

Aww!

-I love the gee-gees.

-I never bet.

-What about that one?

That was my first bet. Ever.

For a pal. I put it on for a pal. Daft horses!

A son.

-A son ye never knew ye had.

-It's queer right enough.

-Where are you going?

-Gonna phone my John.

I'm gonna say, "Son, don't go off yer nut. You might have a brother."

What's the point in that? That's putting the noose round yer neck afore the jury's found ye guilty!

-It could be me that has to phone ma Fiona. She'll go apeshit!

-How will she?

It's not as if we were cheatin' on our wives. We were just daft boys.

-Long before we settled doon.

-Would be better if it was Winston.

At least every body knows he was a whore-maister!

Aye.

See they Crimewatch programmes? They've got DNA tests, they call them.

-That's how they find out who the father is.

-How does that work?

It's either a clump in yer hair a swab in yer mooth. Your sperm.

That's how they caught Clinton, sure. Aye.

Big splat of doodah on the lassie's frock.

That's what we'll do, aye.

Just trot doon to that portakabin and say "One of us could be yer da.

"We're going to Crimewatch aboot it as well!

-"Ye couldn't have a jerk into that cup for us, could ye?"

-Victor!

-Get me a whisky, will ye?

-What's the matter wi' ye?

-I'm the da. Nae two ways aboot it.

-What is it you're on aboot?

Jack. Victor. Please. Proof positive. Case closed.

I'm the da.

I dunno what I'm gonna do.

It's a mess. I need a drink. Am I getting a half or no'?

-There's none left.

-Right. I'm going to the offies to get a bottle.

-I'd hold on to yer cash if I was you, Winston.

-How?

By my reckoning you owe that boy 50 years' back pocket money!

-THEY LAUGH

-It's bad laughing, in't it?

-Aye it's poor. Celebration bevvy?

-Good to be off the hook.

-Exactly.

You no comin' in? I've ma magazine to get.

-No. You go in. I'm having a wee puff at the gun here.

-Right-o.

-Hello.

-Oh, hello. We were just talking aboot you there.

Oh, aye. Getting pelters, was I?

No, not at all...

You goin' to the last night party at the Clansman?

-I'll be there.

-Good!

What's the matter wi' you? Look like you've seen a ghost.

Aye I have! The ghost of shaggin' past!

-Eh?

-The boy's in there! Ma boy!

-I'm the da!

-Ach, give us peace!

Listen! Know that thing I do with ma glasses?

-Aye?

-He does it an' all. Exactly the same.

It's uncanny, Jack.

So. It's a two horse race!

Hello, Jack! That was a nice surprise. They had Drum.

Cannae get that where I live.

Appears it's a three horse race, Jack.

To the Clansman.

Cheers!

Smashin, eh? Free booze everywhere, all I can touch is the orange juice. Bastard.

-Jack. Victor.

-Bobby.

Welcome to our last night.

-Large ones?

-Aye.

-Aye.

-Tell me you've found oot who the da is, for God's sake.

-To be honest, we're nae further on.

Jesus.

-WINSTON CLEARS HIS THROAT Chris...

-Winston, no!

Not now, Victor.

Listen, son.

You might not like what I've got to say but it's the God's honest truth.

A lot of people here in Craiglang knew your mother Jenny.

-It would be fair to say she was very fond of her hol...

-It might no' be you!

-..lidays.

Always going away on jaunts. Rothesay. Helensburgh. Saltcoats.

It's good to have you back. God bless your mother.

What was all that about?

Sit down, son.

We've something to tell ye.

We knew yer mother. The three of us.

-Excuse me, boys.

-Wait a minute, Isa. This is important.

I know. Christopher. There's someone here I want you to meet.

"Dear Peter..." That's me.

"I am writing this letter to let you know that you and I had a baby son, Christopher, yesterday.

"He is fit and well.

"Do not feel bad that you are not here. It's for the best.

"I think we both know that things between us could never work out.

"My life is here now and yours is up there.

"Please do not try to contact us and for this I will be forever grateful.

"God bless... Jenny."

-Hello, son.

-Dad.

Come and have a seat, Dad.

-We've a lot of catching up to do.

-I don't think so, son.

I've been a mad alcoholic tramp for the past 40 years!

ALL: Large Scotch Bobby.

And I'll take a sherry.

Isa. How the hell did you work that oot?

Give us that photy o'er, Bobby.

-That's ma photy!

-I know. Who took it?

You never forget the photies you took, do you?

Isa, did ye get it?

Aye I got it. It was a cracker!

Right ye big streak of piss, take the ball off me!

-Too easy, Jackie boy. Too easy!

-Wait for me!

Hi, Pete. You missed yourself at the pub.

Ach, ye know me. Didn't bother with the drink.

Did ye have a nice time fishing?

Lovely. Two brownies. No bad.

Where are they going?

Oh, they're playin' football... Dafties.

God, they're awfully far away... in't they?

Aye, they are.

Christ. Pete.

-I forgot we used to hang about wi' Pete.

-Aye.

Nae wonder he turned to the drink, carryin' that secret aboot.

Aye, that's that sorted.

Here, has anyone else got any little dirty secrets they want aired before w get on with the rest of our lives?

I'm looking for a man called Navid.

-Ye must be chuffed, Bobby.

-I'm chuffed. I've still got a job.

Chris?

Aye-aye. Brilliant. What do you think, lads?

Nice thing you've done, son.

-Look after the place, Bobby. Make sure my dad gets everything he wants.

-I will do. And thanks again, eh?

- You comin out for a look, Dad? - Am I hell.

There's a perfectly good bar in here!