Moving On Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?

# What happened to you?

# Whatever happened to me?

# What became of the people

# We used to be?

# Tomorrow's almost over

# The day went by so fast

# Is the only thing to look forward to

# The past? #

BOB CHUCKLES

-Why are you laughing?

-You're out of place with kids.

I'm earning my keep. Our Audrey's put me up so I'm baby-sitting.

Who's a pretty? Coo-oo!

-Hi, Bob.

-Hi, Aud. All right?

-Well enough.

-How's Thelma?

-Fine. May I take your au pair out for a Sunday morning drink?

Can I trust you? They're so hard to get.

-She'll be back for dinner.

-Stay for lunch - the kids are off to Grandma.

-Are you sure you've got enough?

-Roast lamb - back at 1.30.

-Champion.

-Pub's not open yet.

-Go for a drive.

-Good idea! See how the place looks.

What was the bar we used to hang out in? The Marimba? They had a sexy waitress with green nails.

-Things change.

-Pink now, are they?

-More than that!

-Show us anyway.

-What time did she say dinner was?

-Half past one.

We don't want to be rushed, do we?

That was your Marimba Coffee Bar.

-We used to get raspberry cones with green specks on top.

-You mean pistachio?

No - nail varnish!

That lot's coming down in a few years.

-Know where we are now?

-Well, vaguely.

-I just can't place...

-Beneath this concrete was once the Go-go Rock Club.

Members only, licensed till three, closed on Sundays, the North's premier music Mecca.

The Go-go?! Gone?!

Gone, but not forgotten.

At 3am under a full moon, you may see a headless guitarist, drifting through empty parking lots,

playing "Roll Over, Beethoven".

This was Saville Street. Anita Tupper lived here - remember?

No wonder they're pulling it down.

We fished here on Sundays if we didn't have a fixture.

Let's get some rods and come back later.

-No fish.

-No fish?!

-Pollution.

-We HAD that, long before it was fashionable!

They built a chemical factory.

-There isn't a fish between here and the North Sea.

-What a disgrace!

People have no regard for the environment.

They pollute the river and the air, and build chemical factories, and dump refuse. It's a disgrace!

That was the market.

That was Saturday morning pitches.

Well, at least Eric has survived.

Just.

It's a wonder this pub's still here. I'm surprised they haven't pulled it down to build a new civic centre.

The civic centre's on top of the old Roxy.

-Not the Roxy Ballroom?!

-'Fraid so.

-Hell's teeth! Is nothing sacred?

-Two pints, George. I'm sorry, but I had to tell you sometime.

The National Trust should've preserved it. It's awful!

All my memories were there. Part of our lives belong to that ballroom!

The National Trust needs better reasons than that.

-No Roxy!

-On full moons, we'll haunt the civic centre, twisting through corridors.

To the strains of Art Sibley's Singing Sax!

-He died, you know, old Art Sibley.

-Did he? Poor Art!

Poor HEART - and lungs!

You can't blow a sax every night for 20 years and not be damaged.

He's in the great palais in the sky, welcoming old friends with a toot!

-And playing "Mr Sandman".

-A semitone flat!

-It would never be the same without Sibley.

-It's a tragic loss.

Yeah, it was the first dance hall I ever went to. Such memories, man!

First place I ever learnt to dance.

-First place I learnt social poise and repartee.

-Yeah.

It went: "Can I drive you home?" "Ooh, have you got a car?" "No, I've got a bloody great whip!"

-Cary Grant said it to Audrey Hepburn.

-I bet.

-Well, it broke the ice.

I won their "Win A Holiday For Two" bossa nova contest.

-Where was the holiday?

-It should've been Brazil, home of the bossa nova, but their budget didn't allow it.

It was a week in Redcar.

-Is Redcar still there?

-I think so.

-Nowhere else is that you showed me.

-None of our memories are intact, except the juvenile court.

-Yeah.

This has made me see the change. If you're always here you don't notice.

Still, it's a good thing; there's a lot of opportunities round here now.

At the labour exchange there are very few opportunities,

unless you want to work for BR parcels or the brewery.

-You went to the labour exchange, did you?

-Er, you have to, for the insurance card.

-I thought you might've been looking for a job.

-No, the insurance card.

Yeah, fine. You must think about a job soon, you know.

There's no hurry. I'm not short. I'm not on the breadline.

I've got my savings and my terminal leave pay. I don't want any old job.

I must think about it, look around. I'm not sure I want to stay here.

Especially now there's no Roxy.

But you'd feel funny anywhere else. If you're on the King's Cross train, you get the jitters at Doncaster!

That was years ago. I didn't know any better. I thought I'd seen a bit of life.

I dunno. The town may have a new civic centre, but it's still a dead end.

-What could YOU do?

-I don't know. I just have this feeling.

I was in the Army with a chap named Hughie McClaren, a really good mate.

He'd had no education - he'd been a baker in Berwick.

One day I said to him, "Hughie, what are you going to do when you get out?"

Guess what he said to me. I won't forget. He said, "Anything I like."

Not "Well, there's nothing I can do, except bake bread" - oh, no, no, no.

His attitude was "anything I like"!

"Surprise move by Heath: Berwick baker to be postmaster general"(!)

That's your small-town mentality! If you don't believe you can do it, you'll never amount to anything.

When Hughie got demobbed, he didn't fly back. He hitchhiked from Aden. A bloke like that could do anything.

Go fur-trapping in Canada, drive to Katmandu, row across the Atlantic - and I might just go with him.

But your roots are here.

Five years ago, I was UPROOTED and sent to some draughty barracks, thanks to someone

-not a million miles away.

-Without which you'd not have got the urge to go to Katmandu in a baker's van.

-One day, that's all I'm saying. One day...

-All right.

But in the meantime, take time to adjust.

You want money coming in. You won't earn much mowing lawns and baby-sitting.

If I want a job, a stopgap, I'll go back to Ellison's.

Old Darby always said to me, "When you come out, Terry, you're job here is open." I'll just go back.

-There's a problem.

-What?

-They pulled it down two years ago.

Anyone want any more pudding?

I'm sorry the lamb was done so well. I don't understand. It's that clock.

I put it on at half past eleven to cook slowly. Maybe it's the oven.

-Maybe it's the meat. Why did you want to change butcher?

-Because they closed the old one.

Is anything standing in this town?

One solitary pre-1967 brick standing on top of another.

By 1988 this will be the most exciting environment in the UK.

Meanwhile, where do you go to dance, or catch fish, or buy decent meat?

It wasn't the meat, it was the oven.

They plan to shut off traffic from Sutton St and Mason's Avenue.

-Ellison's has gone.

-To make way for an underpass.

-Working men don't come into it.

It's all up to town planners, and landscapers.

People like me are bulldozed aside in the name of progress.

Ellison's went bankrupt before then. I got out before the crunch came.

You're sensible. You were shrewd. Look how well you've done since.

-Where DO you work?

-Another company, another line.

-What's its name?

Well, Thelma's dad runs it. It's building and civil engineering.

Oh, I see. How shrewd of you to get out before the crunch came!

No wonder the engagement to Thelma is back on again. You might lose a job as well as a wife!

-I pull my weight and work as hard as the next man.

-Only the next man isn't marrying his daughter, is he?

-Perhaps Bob could get YOU something, Terry.

-I don't need strings pulled, I don't need the old pals act!

It's not what you do, it's who you know.

I can manage, thank you. One day... One day...

-What?

-He and Hughie McClaren will wash ashore on Whitley Bay sands,

having crossed the sea on a tea tray.

-Who's Hughie McClaren?

-You don't know?!

Hughie McClaren's a legend. He rode from Aden to Aldershot on a camel.

He taught me there's more to life than a salary and superannuation,

and an endowment policy at 55.

Who'd want to go from Aden to Aldershot on a camel?

-You're a qualified electrician. You'll get a job.

-I can ask around.

-I don't want any help from anybody.

I've got ideas, ambitions and plans of my own, and getting a job round here doesn't fit into any of them.

< KNOCK AT DOOR

Come in.

Oh, excuse me.

-Is Mr Busby around?

-Who wants him?

The labour exchange sent me. You're looking for electricians, they said.

I am?!

-No, Mr Busby.

-Mr Busby's not here at the moment.

Oh, I see. Well, they said to come down this morning.

They said, definitely, this morning.

-Electricians, is it?

-Aye, Mr Busby, they said, this morning.

He didn't say anything.

Mr Busby, JC Harvey, electrical contractors.

You've got the right place, but he didn't say anything.

-Well, should I come back?

-Er... Just a minute.

-His assistant will see you.

-Right.

In a moment.

-Oooh. The damp's not half playing this up.

-What's wrong with your leg, then?

I never talk about it.

-I've been overseas, you see.

-Oh.

-For a few years.

There's been some change round here though. They pulled the Roxy down!

The where?

-The Roxy.

-Roxy?

The Roxy dance hall!

Don't know it. You must have been away a long time.

Yes, well, I have.

I've been all around the world, seen lots of places, lots of people.

Nothing like travel for broadening the mind, making you realise what life has to offer.

So why are you here?

BUZZER

He'll see you now.

Thank you.

I'll be with you in a minute.

-Terry! What on earth...?

-Oh, well, er, I was...er, I was just passing by...

I thought I'd pop in and say hello.

Hello.

Great. Do you want a cup of tea?

Yes, great. I thought I'd pop in for a cup of tea.

Hang on. Wendy!

Can you rustle up two teas, and a biscuit for Mr Collier?

Yes, Bob - er, Mr Ferris.

-I can't take too long. I've got some applicant out there for a job.

-Oh - a job?

-Yes, a spark. Still, let him wait. People like us can't be rushed.

-Suppose not.

-Sparks are two-a-penny.

I didn't know JC Harvey belonged to your future dad-in-law.

-It's a subsidiary. There are four firms.

-Do you normally interview people?

No, it's Frank's job, Frank Busby, but he's out on a site.

It makes a change. Drunk with power, eh? Sit down.

You know we were talking the other day?

I know you want change, but if you do feel you need something, I could always... Frank Busby could...

Thanks very much, but nothing is further from my mind.

Actually, I've made a decision. I'm not staying. You're the first to know.

-I'm moving on.

-Moving on? Where?

-Where what?

-Where?

Where? Ah...

Well, that's not quite been finalised yet.

What I'll do is contact Hughie McClaren and play it by ear.

-Are you sure about this?

-It's not just a snap decision.

-When are you leaving?

-What?

-When?

When? Oh, well, this week, I should think. There's no point in hanging about, is there?

I suppose not.

You'll miss my wedding!

I know, mate. Still, your in-laws won't be sorry.

I will!

I'll send a telegram, wherever I am.

It'll be a bit pricey from Katmandu.

-We won't have got THAT far by then.

-But Katmandu IS on your itinerary?

Possibly, possibly. It depends which route we take.

-Route to where?

-Well, that's not been finalised yet.

You just got back, and now you're off!

-I never knew you had so much Gipsy in your soul!

-It's in the blood.

Those five years gave me a taste for excitement, adventure and the unknown,

a hint of mystery and danger - so I must join Hughie.

-Where is he?

-Berwick-on-Tweed.

He's not a mercenary up the Congo?! There's not much mystery in Berwick. You can go there on a day trip!

That's his home, you fool, where we'll plan things, and buy maps and stores.

You'll set off for uncharted waters, seeking the source of the Tweed!

-It's that sort of attitude that is driving me away.

-I'm sorry. I don't want you to go away at all.

-My mind's made up.

-Well, if it is, fine, fine.

All I can say is...good luck...

-..and God bless.

-Well, cheers, mate.

Cheers.

-Congratulations.

-What?

-Having tea and shaking hands - you must've got the job!

Sheer loss of face! It's his pride that's been hurt.

-He didn't want to go in the first place.

-Course not.

-Loss of face!

He's just seen how it's all changed, and how well you're doing, Bob,

and his other friends.

He feels left behind. All he's got is a broken marriage and a few Post Office savings.

-And a tattoo on his left buttock.

-Has he?

-Aye!

-So that's why he always locks the bathroom door.

-A tattoo of what.

-Something crude - a snake draped over a topless woman.

I got a glimpse at the public baths. It was more dignified than that. It was a coat of arms, a crest.

-Maybe it's his regimental badge.

-It's stupid, anyway.

Still, it's a distinguishing mark for Stuart Henry.

Come here, Terry Collier. Nancy Ridley forgives you.

-He hasn't disappeared. I had a letter from him.

-A letter?

It's to remind us we owe him £4 lawn-mowing charges.

-Where's it from? Berwick?

-There's an address there.

When he was in the Army he never wrote.

-He sent us a postcard from Cyprus.

-To remind us he had a birthday soon.

He doesn't mention meeting Hughie, or making plans, or anything.

I bet he only sent his address so we'd write and beg him to come home.

-I'll drive up and talk to him. It's up to me. I could maybe fetch him back.

-The sooner the better.

-Do you think so?

-Aye. Well, we haven't got a baby-sitter for Friday night.

-Yes?

-Is a Mr Collier here, a Mr Terry Collier?

-Aye, but he's not in just now.

-When will he be back?

High tea is at six. He'll not miss that.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

-I think what you're doing is great!

-What?

-I really envy you.

Don't patronise, Ferris. Envy what? Soaking wet feet and chapped hands?

We don't wash them cars in Fairy Liquid!

I DO envy you! What you're doing is so...together.

It's the way to be these days. You're...easy-riding.

It's taking off. It's getting straight. It's moving on.

What? All I'm doing is wringing out.

Elvis Presley worked in a car wash, in a song, anyway.

It's the freedom, like American youth today. You don't want a home and a job.

You wanna be trucking to New Mexico.

"By the time I get to Phoenix", "24 hours to Tulsa"...

All you need is a sleeping bag and a harmonica.

-I don't play the harmonica.

-You play Cousin Martin's accordion.

-You won't fit an accordion AND me in a sleeping bag.

-That's trivial!

-Think of broader things. You could live in a commune.

-Are you kidding?

I'm not in New Mexico, I'm in Berwickshire. It's early closing, and the forecast says drizzle.

It's OK in America, but it's different when you say, "By the time I get to Peebles",

or, "I'm 24 hours from Falkirk"!

-It's a state of mind.

-Sorry to shatter your illusions.

I won't give up my worldly goods to traipse around in a sleeping bag.

I have no worldly goods to give up, and I hate camping.

I'm not at the car wash as a tribute to Elvis, but to pay rent at a sweaty boarding house.

It's worth the gesture. You made me think twice about being suffocated.

You?!

Do you think my life is exciting?

Decorating, saving pennies, doing a dull correspondence course? Is that living?

I yearn to see places I only read about in colour supplements,

and meet girls from "Hawaii Five-0".

-I thought you'd made up your mind.

-I had, but you came back after five exciting years in foreign parts.

They weren't THAT exciting, mate.

Some of them were spent in Devizes.

-It was different.

-Look, Bob. The Army is hardly "Hawaii Five-O"!

You made the break, and maybe it's time I did. What did Hughie say?

Anything you like, you can do - WE can do. I'll cash in my savings, sell the car.

I can't see Thelma up the Orinoco in a sleeping bag with 2.4 children.

She must realise...a man has to do what a man has to do.

Well, I know what I have to do.

-What?

-Get you back where you belong.

-How much do I owe you, Hughie?

-Just a minute, Terry.

-Cheers, mate.

Hughie?!

Not...not THE Hughie?

Aye.

Not THE Hughie McClaren?

-In person.

-What's he doing here?

-This is where I found him.

He married his childhood sweetheart.

He's got a mortgage on this place. If he works every day for 33 years, he'll have paid off the tea urn.

Fancy coming round later for toad-in-the-hole, and a wee game of monopoly?

It's very, very tempting, Hughie,

but we're moving on.

-Nothing on the box, Terry?

-Later on.

-There's plenty of beer in the fridge.

-Haven't seen a cuff-link, have you?

-No, mate.

-Supper's in the oven. Are you OK now?

Yes, thanks, Ernie. It's nice to be in a comfy chair and a warm house.

We were SO worried when you went off.

Were you, mate?

Aye. We'd have had no sitter for tonight!

Check the kids are asleep, but if Wayne wakes up, be firm.

-Don't bribe him with chocolates like you did before.

-I can manage.

-DOORBELL RINGS

-That'll be Bob. Let him in, love!

-When the tinger goes, take the foil off and brown it for five minutes.

-Thanks, flower.

-You look smashing!

-I wish I felt it. I'm in such a rush.

I got you half a bottle of vodka.

-You're all being very nice tonight.

-Well, it's good to see you back.

-I'll get some glasses.

-Terry, about that job... Mr Busby still needs an electrician.

I told him you were the best. There is overtime and you'll get holidays.

Pop round and see him tomorrow... about it.

You never give up. Worrying about my welfare, making assumptions.

What have I said?

So I'm back home. It doesn't alter certain fundamental principles.

I didn't spend years of sweat and toil in distant corners of the globe

just to work for a tinpot builder as a sparks,

with you prancing about, flaunting your status and your slide rule.

You ungrateful pig!

I risked my reputation recommending you, knowing you might screw it up and embarrass me.

Never again will I raise a finger to rescue you from a Scottish car wash. I wash my hands of you.

Spend your life baby-sitting, or join the dole queue - I DON'T CARE!

He left his vodka.

Well! Ever since I've known him I've never seen Bob like that, so worked up. Why was he so angry?

Because he loves me.

Intelfax Subtitles by Julia Watts for BBC Subtitling, 1995