I'll Never Forget Whatshername Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?

# Oh, what happened to you?

# Whatever happened to me?

# What became of the people

# We used to be?

# Tomorrow's almost over Today went by so fast

# Is the only thing to look forward to the past? #

Hello, is that Margaret? Margaret Bishop?

It is? It's Terry Collier here.

Collier.

We once went out with each other and I promised to ring you back.

When?

It was January... January 17th 1967.

Well I rang as soon as I could.

I was in the army for five years. I couldn't get a line in the jungle.

Collier. I was wondering if you'd like to go out one night...

You what?

Well, it wasn't me.

Well, I'm sorry. It was just a joke. I...

There's no need to take that attitude.

And you, madam.

Dear me!

Oh, is that Teresa Palmer?

Doesn't she? I'm an old friend. Do you know where I can get in touch with her?

Convent of the Sacred Heart?!

What is she? A nun or something?

She IS a nun!

Are you sure it's the same Teresa Palmer? Cos the one I knew was a right...

Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs Palmer.

No. no. No offence. Just a joke.

No, no. No message.

Hallelujah!

Morag Maclean. No, I know she's married.

Janice Armstrong. No, I'll get nowt there.

June...?

Oh, June! Hang on! Hang on!

June was busting out all over.

Is that June?

Oh, doesn't she? Who did SHE marry?

Never! Poor soul.

Who's speaking, please?

Really?

Well, it's Terry Collier.

I've been away for a few years. The army.

Military hospital most of the time.

No, I'm fine now. Fine. Fit as a fiddle.

Apart from... I never talk about it.

Collier.

Well...tallish. Hair, brownish. Eyes, blueish.

Physique, wiry. A steely glint to the eye.

A dangerous half smile plays on my lips.

What about the tattoo on your left buttock?

-Your wooden leg and the steel plate in your brain?

-Shut up! I'm cracking it here.

I'm sorry. Are you still there? I can't remember your name...

Ah, Linda. Of course! Of course!

You're not married or anything?

-Who is it?

-June Craig's sister.

So, er...Linda, what are you doing this weekend?

Perhaps we could get together and talk over old times.

-Terry.

-Hang on, it's New York on the other line.

-What's the matter?

-Before you sweep this lady off her feet with your dangerous smile

you ought to know last Sunday was Linda Craig's 12th birthday.

What?!

-Honestly?

-Honestly.

I've already... What do I say?

New York needs you, or you're off to Paris to get your wooden leg French polished.

Hello, Linda. I really only rang up to say hello to the family

and to wish you a happy birthday. So... Pardon?!

-Are you sure she's only twelve?

-Yes, definitely.

Must be these comprehensive schools.

-No luck?

-Five married, three moved, one insult and a nun.

-A nun?

-Teresa Palmer.

-Hallelujah!

-And she used to...

I know! I know! Frequently!

Using a 1967 address book can't help.

It's my only contact with the past.

My life stopped there. Cut off, thanks to someone not a million miles away.

-Five years. They'll be out of date.

-Ten calls and not a nibble.

-Ingrid Wyebrew?

-Married.

-Maggie Bishop?

-Married with child.

-Nancy Ridley?

-Moved to Shrewsbury.

-Where's Shrewsbury?

-League Division Three.

Jocelyn James. You were keen on her.

Aye, she was a canny lass. She's married, lives near Berwick. Two kids. Husband's a corn merchant.

-Really.

-Aye, our Audrey keeps in touch.

She says they seem very happy. Never short of millet.

-I know her sister's number.

-OK.

-You'll need change.

-Why?

It's Melbourne 4211.

-Very amusing. Give us me book back.

-No. Hang on!

Even if I do trace anybody we'll have nothing in common.

I've got no links with girls here.

Glenys Roberts. You took her to see the Sound of Music.

She left at the intermission - felt ill.

-And you didn't go with her?

-What? Front-circle seats, 15 bob a time!

And I queued for them in the rain.

It's still showing. Take her to the second half.

She's not on the phone.

Most of those girls weren't on the phone.

I'm not traipsing the streets on spec, picking the key to box 13.

Time hasn't been kind to some girls here,

whereas fellas seem to keep younger.

I'm better looking than I was five years ago. Better hair and clothes.

True. True.

After you've adjusted you might be the same.

What's the matter with me clothes?

You look dated. If you meet a girl from five years ago she'll recognise you.

Time's stood still, appearance-wise.

I've been in the forces. You can't expect me to look like Jethro Tull.

Take a week to adjust, get some decent gear, then ring round.

-When I get a "yes" I'll have long hair.

-Tried them all?

-And these.

1965, 1966... Have you got all your diaries?

The Sunday Times might run them. "Terry Collier. Diaries Volume One.

"The artist's formative years.

"His struggle from Park Secondary Modern to Ellison's Electrics."

You never can tell. They'll give somebody in the future a whole clue as to a way of life.

Oh, definitely!

They capture the turbulence of the mid-sixties, the excitement of our lifestyle.

March 5th -

"Had to walk home. Had a puncture near the lead factory. Got soaked.

"Met Sheila. She's leaving me for a welder at Swan Hunter's." Riveting!

"Couldn't care less. Made tea, watched Come Dancing.

"I've got a cold coming on."

What times to have been alive in(!)

I did have a cold an' all. I was in bed for a week.

Look! September 27th 1967. Blackpool illuminations.

Supporters' Club outing. You weren't on that.

-Wasn't I?

-No, you had an abscess.

That's right, from learning to play the harmonica.

We stopped at Kendal for a pint. George Murray fell off the pier.

Got the back seat in the coach... Hello!

-What?

-I've given this girl two stars.

-Who?

-There's just a number in eyebrow pencil and two stars!

-Nothing to get excited about.

-Depends how many stars you had in your system.

-Seven. It was seven.

That was the British standard.

One, kissing with mouth closed. Two, with mouth open. Three, upstairs outside...

British Standard! I wasn't governed by that. My system had three stars.

-And you got two of them.

-In a bus!

Ring her up!

Naa!

-After five years!

-It's worth a try.

I might later on when I've supped a few more.

-When the alcohol's stirred my loins. Another?

-No. I've got to be off.

-Off! Off where?

-I'm due at Thelma's. I told you.

She's possessive!

-She's not.

-You're leaving me, in other words?

-In other words, yes.

You're leaving me alone,

with useless addresses and unobtainable numbers.

-Ring up "two stars".

-What's the point?

She must have been a right slag if she gave you two stars in a coach from Blackpool.

-She'll never remember me.

-How could she forget?

The lights and the candyfloss and Reg Dixon at his organ.

Coming home - passion across the Pennines.

-Course she'll remember! Good luck.

-Cheers!

Another pint of special, love, please.

-Don't we know each other from a few years back?

-I don't think so, pet.

Are you sure?

Terry Collier. I've been away in the forces.

A secret mission -

Vietnam.

North Vietnam.

I've never been to Vietnam. Been to Mallorca.

Maybe we went to school together.

No. I think I'd have remembered someone of...your build.

By, that's an asset, isn't it?

-Pardon, sir?

-That's an asset since I was here last.

Eee, look at that! Look at that!

She's a big lass. I could fancy her. Don't you?

Yes, I married her.

Hello, Pam. It's Thelma here. How are you?

Yes, he's fine. He's here now. He sends his love. Yes I will.

Are you still going out with Morris?

Oh, you're not?

Did he? DID he?

You're well out of it, pet.

I'm ringing because a friend of Bob's has just come back from abroad.

It would be nice if the four of us went out.

Terry. Terry Collier.

Oh, you remember him, do you?

Never mind. It was just a thought.

I'll come round and have a coffee sometime, shall I? Right. Bye.

-You tried. Sit down.

-I'm not keen on fixing up my friends with Terry.

He can be a bit coarse.

He'll just have to fend for himself. He'll be phoning "two stars" by now.

-Who's this?

-Oh, just a number in eyebrow pencil.

-Two stars?

-When we were kids we had this adolescent sexual scale.

One star, kissing with your mouth closed. Two, with your mouth open.

Three was upstairs outside...

Upstairs outside!

What does that mean? On the bedroom windowsill?

-Don't be naive, pet.

-Four was with ladder and five was without?

-No...dearest. Four...

-I know what four stars was.

And five, six and seven.

It was what you complained about never getting.

You all lied anyway, you boys.

Subtract three and you got a true picture.

There's only three stars in Terry's system.

He never had our finesse.

Nor did the girls he went out with.

PHONE RINGS Excuse me, pet.

Hello.

Yes, this is 21717.

I'm sorry?

Some mad man says do I remember Blackpool illuminations, 1967?

I'll get you for this, Collier!

You've got a nerve coming here! Don't you feel a sense of embarrassment?

Just a sense of having had too many.

Working up courage to ring numbers from the past.

Come on, Bob, man. I only did it for a joke.

I thought you'd have a laugh over your cocoa.

Thelma did say it was a joke?

Thelma's attitude was strange. She went pale and developed a twitch in her left ear.

I had to give her some sal volatile.

Was that wise on top of cocoa?

She doesn't think she was on that trip,

-but with the passing of time...

-And eight gins.

How did you know? She WAS there. That proves it.

-Oh, God!

-Don't take on like that!

You're the skeleton in my bride-to-be's cupboard.

I'm not that thin. Wiry, but no skeleton.

You don't care. No shame or regrets about driving a wedge between us.

-A wedge couldn't prise you apart.

-Betrayed by the two people closest to me in the world.

On the back seat of a bus.

-Course you weren't.

-Two stars. I can't live with that.

You know I exaggerate. It was probably one.

On a three-star scale? One's still a 33% success rate.

Bob, it was years ago. We were children.

Children carried away by drinks and the singsong.

Children get very emotional after 14 pints and "The Blaydon Races".

Thirty-three per cent.

We weren't as bad as the others. We kept a sense of dignity and modesty.

Eileen Hogg was in the luggage rack...

with the accordionist.

And meanwhile I was sick in bed. You took advantage of my abscess.

I didn't take advantage at all. You weren't going out with Thelma then.

You haven't always been with her.

..It just seems that way.

It was years ago. It was kids, not grown-ups.

Juveniles not sophisticated adults like what we are now.

-It was still a shock.

-Do you want the sal volatile?

I'm vulnerable to things like this. I'm too soft.

Too trusting. Too loving.

God preserve us! What are these? Been looking at your diaries?

Yes. Looking for some note I might have made hinting at my suspicions.

-How trusting!

-It was justified.

There's a note I made at the time.

"Terry came round wearing his new hipsters and a smug face.

-"He knows something."

-It'll never stand up in court.

I'll never get on a bus again without shudders of doubt.

That's a bad thing - shudders of doubt.

She could have told me sometime after we were engaged,

or, better still, just after it happened.

She could have told me. I'd have understood and been forgiving and adult about it.

I'd have gone to your house

kicked your head in and all would've been forgiven.

If only everyone could be that reasonable.

-Let's have a look.

-Get off! It's private, isn't it?

It's a record of my thoughts. It's personal.

I want to glance at the addresses, not read it.

It'd betray those girls' confidence.

-They don't want to fall into your grubby grasp. I've got integrity.

-Howay, man!

They'll all be the same as mine anyway.

Yes. There they all are.

Same old tired names.

Dear me!

Hell's teeth!

What is it? I mean, who is it?

-How many stars in your system?

-I told you, seven.

You've given Wendy Thwaites eight!

Let's have a look at that!

One, two, three, four, five, six... seven, eight!

Must mean you got all the way there and went back to the start. "One more time Ferris!"

No, it didn't mean that. I know what it means now.

You gave yourself a bonus point? "E" for effort!

Please. She was...the first.

That's why I gave her another star.

I see. Like a commemorative medal?

Don't joke about it.

-It was a long time ago but she meant something.

-Wendy Thwaites?

-Yes.

-Are you sure?

-It wasn't such a common occurrence you'd forget it.

No, I meant Wendy? I didn't think anybody...

I did!

That staggers me, that really does!

Wendy Thwaites...I mean she had such a repressed upbringing.

Her mother used to hand out leaflets about the end of the world.

Her father supported Sunderland so it was hardly a house of merriment.

I suppose she was expressing her rebellion.

I thought her only expression was ballroom dancing. All she wanted was a Gay Gordon.

-I rather caught her off guard.

-What happened?

I picked her up after a competition.

-She won, so she was all radiant and elated with success.

-Success?

She'd become the 1966 Co-operative Society regional subdivision pasa doble champion.

My God! Tomorrow, the world!

Next was the northeast eliminators.

That would turn a young girl's head. Too much too soon.

Aye! I suppose it did turn her head.

Flushed with victory and Babycham and the sash and cup,

-the rhythm of Ernie Blenkinsop's Afro-Cubans.

-A star was born!

She came home with me. Mother was away. I don't think she really knew where she was.

Her mind was on the quarterfinals and the pasa doble.

It was all very fumbling. Those dresses!

-Hand sewn.

-Satin bodice.

-Fetching(!)

I didn't know much. I'd had a few in the ballroom's Kontiki lounge.

Things were a bit blurred.

But it happened all right. When I woke up my bed was full of sequins.

Wendy Thwaites! Who would have thought it?

You never said anything about it.

Out of respect for her and the good name of ballroom dancing.

She was distraught, thinking of giving up.

-She'd only just started!

-I meant the dancing, not...

I was going to say!

You might have given us a hint. Keeping quiet like that.

We're not all like you, shouting sexual conquests from the roof tops.

You'd take out ads on the telly.

That is unkind! The reason for this depressing situation is my LACK of sexual conquest.

Wendy Thwaites. Where are you? I need you.

She's still around - with the Aida Bistle formation team.

You should join. You might twirl your way into her affections.

Jackie Norris was a fair-looking girl.

Jackie Norris. She had some form.

-Did you go out with her long?

-Once or twice.

-I think I did.

-Ring her.

-What's the use?

It's a futile exercise.

Anyway, who needs it? No sweat.

She didn't half have a pair!

Where's the phone?

Hang on a minute. I'll do it.

-You?

-Your success rate's a bit low. Rang ten, won none. Look and learn.

Go on then, Casanova(!)

Her brother was Les Norris, the cyclist and potholer.

-That's right. Tall boy with a stoop.

-The potholing.

It's ringing.

Or the cycling.

Oh, hello. Is Jackie there, please?

Yes, of course it is. How could I ever forget that husky sexy voice.

Ha! Ha!

Oh, this is Terry. Terry Collier.

I don't expect you'll remember me.

That's right - of Bob-and-Terry fame.

Ha! Ha! You do remember?

-How could she forget?

-I have.

I've been abroad actually, in the army.

I'm not able to disclose where - Official Secrets Act.

Let me ask you three questions. Are you married?

Engaged?

Are you free to go out one night?

I'll ring tomorrow.

I'LL look forward to it, Jackie. Bye.

Great pullers are born, not made.

-She's late.

-That'll be the traffic.

Her own car, that's a change from the old days. She'll drive YOU home.

That's a thought. I might have to fight her off. She won't get three stars on the first date.

Didn't her brother cycle down potholes or something?

-Something like that.

-DOORBELL

Let her in! Before his knees collapse(!)

-I still can't remember her.

-I've got a vivid impression of her,

it just stops at her throat.

There you are, Jackie. Do you remember those two?

-The dynamic duo.

-How could I ever forget?

Forget him?

Hello, Terry love, how are you?

It's marvellous to see you again. And you, Bob.

Thelma told me you're engaged. Congratulations!

-There's...

-Why'd you join the army? To forget me?

Jackie...

Don't interrupt, Bob. It's obviously an occasion for Jackie to see Terry.

You ringing brought it all back. I looked up my diaries and letters.

-Look what I found.

-Oh.

-Just look at those clothes!

-September 27th 1967.

-At least!

-Twenty-seventh?

-September.

-Well, sit down, Jackie. That's all in the past. Sherry?

-I was in Blackpool.

-So was I, on an outing.

-Spanish or Cyprus?

-Supporters' Club. You pretended you were ill.

-I was ill. I was. I had an abscess.

-An abscess?

We sneaked off to the country. It was very romantic.

Abscess made the heart grow fonder?

That's very witty, Bob.

-Did he take his harmonica?

-He didn't play it!

There's vodka or...

Your memory has got confused over the years.

-There's beer.

-Terry isn't Terry. He's Bob.

-Terry over here's Terry. That, the object of your nostalgic affection, is Bob.

-Is it?

I always got them confused. What's in a name?

-That's MY Bob, even though he's deceitful and sneaks off to the Cheviots with Jackie Norris.

-Thelma!

Thelma, it wasn't the passion of a lifetime.

It was just a snog on a rainy day in Wooler.

-Yes, now, there's port or stout.

-He was never serious about me.

Too hung up on Wendy Thwaites.

-Wendy Thwaites?

-Don't look at me.

It was nice, to cut out like that,

leaving me with the Wendy Thwaites revelation. Thanks a bunch.

Don't come whining to me.

Always the innocent. Too trusting! You've been putting it about more than anyone.

I have always been faithful to Thelma,

in principle.

In principle. You've made an art of infidelity.

Now your past's catching up. I wish mine would.

-Is it Terry Collier?

-Yes.

-It's Glenys. Glenys Roberts.

-Glenys!

I haven't seen you since the Sound of Music.

Of course. You feeling better?

Yes, thanks. I heard you were back.

-Would you like a...

-No, I work here.

Perhaps later?

Certainly. Certainly. We could talk over old times.

-Happy days!

-Weren't they just?

-Such fond memories.

-Bob!

-Glenys!

-Bob, how wonderful to see you!

I'll swing for him.

I will! I'll bloody swing for him!

Intelfax Subtitles by Kate Shaw for BBC Subtitling, 1995