Smell the Weakness White Gold

This programme contains very strong language

This programme contains adult humour

The most important thing for you kids to know is that this divorce is not your fault.

Agreed. It's definitely not your fault.

-Whose fault is it then?

-Doesn't have to be anyone's fault, you know?

I just want to know who to blame for ruining my life.

I mean what if a mum - or let's say a dad - had an affair -

would the divorce be all their fault?

-No.

-Yes! It bloody well would!

-Do not be bitter in front of the children, remember?

-Sorry.

Look, sweetheart, there are loads of reasons why couples break up.

Yeah, just not in this case.

I'm not a mug, Dad. I've had enough of your crap.

Robbie. You all right, mate?

Rob, it's really important, babe, that you share all of your feelings

in regards to the break-up of your family.

Tell him, Vincent.

Do you know what I think would make you feel a lot better

about this divorce? How about an Atari games console?

Oh, yes, please! Skills!

The book says not to bribe.

Books are overrated.

I feel better now. Thanks, Dad.

Right, well, I shall be on my way.

Why do you always have to be such an arsehole?

Because without arseholes, Samantha, shit would never get done.

Sometimes when a Mum and a Dad fall out of love,

it's better for everyone if they stop being husband and wife

and start living in different houses.

Which is why I now live in a flat Ronnie Farrell used to rent out

to a dominatrix.

BUZZER

Hello.

Is Mistress Trixie available?

Mistress Trixie doesn't live here any more, all right.

Oh, OK. Who does then?

Look, mate, I'm really not in the mood for this.

-Why not?

-Why not?!

Because I'm getting divorced.

Because I owe the taxman 50 fucking grand.

Because I've gone from being salesman of the century

to a schlub who can't sell shit.

But mainly because I spend my entire fucking life on this phone

talking to perverts like you.

I'm sorry, sounds like you've got a lot on your plate.

You don't fancy 20 quid and let me fuck you hard up the arse, do ya?

Come on, mate, have some fucking decency, yes?

-Tenner for a blowjob?

-I'm hanging up.

ANSWERING MACHINE BEEPS

You have two new messages.

'Oh, hello, Mr Swan. My name's Emma Lyndsey.

'My neighbours have been complaining about the cries of passion

'and ecstasy coming from my bedroom, so I was hoping you could pop over

'and soundproof my windows.'

A double glazing-based sex fantasy. She's a keeper.

'Mr Swan. It's Abigail Barnes, your favourite government employee here.

'Just a call to let you know we've fixed a date for your case hearing.

'May 29th.

'So that's a whole six weeks to come up with £50,000.'

-Fuck. Fucking fuck!

-'Have a nice day.'

BUZZER

What now?

Vincent? It's Brian. Can I come up?

This place is nice.

Let's cut the small talk bollocks. Why are you here?

Look, I just came round to try and make things right between us.

And before you say anything, I'm not trying to get my job back.

Good, because you're not fucking getting it back. Ever.

Like I said, just...

came to apologise and hopefully in time you'll be able to forgive me.

So...

thanks for listening.

Right. Well, off you fuck then.

Right.

Oh, there was one more thing,

would it be all right if I pop by the showroom, just to pick up

a few bits and pieces, say goodbye to the team properly?

No-one gives a shit about you but it's a free country.

Thanks, Vincent.

Good night mate, ah...

With its haunting aroma of stale sex and 24-hour pervert hotline,

Trixie's flat felt like purgatory. I had to get out.

It was so bad that even a sofa that smelt of Walshy's

arse-crack felt like an upgrade.

Hello? Hello?

Shit! Fucking Walshy.

Hello?

I'm coming up. I warn you!

I'm armed!

I guess I could've told Walshy I was sleeping in the office

but if you're about to tap someone up for 50 grand,

it's probably best not to do it in last night's piss stained Y-fronts.

Fucking hell, Vincent! You could knock...

Sorry, Mum, but before you send me to my room, I'm getting straight to the point.

It's about time you made me a partner.

And don't give me any grief, all right.

I've already made you a mint.

-No, no, I think you being a partner's a great idea.

-Yeah?

Too right. Have a seat.

I've been looking for someone to invest in the business.

How much were you thinking of putting in?

More like what I was looking to take out. Namely, me.

See, I was thinking to keep me motivated

for the foreseeable future,

the business could invest in me to the tune of 50 grand.

How does that sound?

Un-fucking likely. You're not going to quit and we both know it.

What we both do know is without me you'd have lost

that disgusting shirt on your hairy fucking back by now.

That was before your recent personal problems.

You ain't selling shit at the moment, boy.

Sales have dipped, granted,

but that's more due to a downturn in consumer confidence,

-market forces.

-Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You tell yourself whatever bollocks you like,

bottom line is our consumers have lost confidence in you.

So unless you start selling windows for me,

the only thing you'll get from me is a fucking P-45!

Now, are we done here?

I need a shit.

How come you look so fucking cheerful?

Guess who just reeled in a big one?

Congrats, mate.

What was it, your first conservatory?

Bit bigger, and smells of piss more.

You've lost me.

I've just landed us the contract for the refurbishment

of the old people's home on Wickford Road.

Fucking 42 windows and 12 doors.

This old mate of mine from Chelmsford Grammar

works for the council and he made sure the order came our way.

Fuck me. That's incredible news.

If this goes well we could end up on the council's list of approved suppliers.

I'll go give Walshy the glad tidings.

Hold your horses.

Now, congrats on the Old Girls network coming through,

but strictly speaking this is a commercial deal,

and as such it has to go through the commercial sales arm.

What? What fucking commercial sales arm?!

No-one's ever mentioned a commercial sales arm.

Vincent Swan, head of commercial sales at your service.

Now, don't worry, I'll make sure you get a nice finders bonus.

I'd better go give Walshy the glad tidings.

And look, mate, I'm sorry, I don't make the rules.

I know, I do make the rules.

And that was a dick move. Even for me.

Walshy! Stop tugging on that pencil dick and prepare to be happy.

Hello, Millman Young.

Hi, it's Sam Swan. I've got a meeting with Little Prick.

I mean, Andrew Davis.

Sorry, was that Andrew Davis?

Yeah, Andrew Davis

-Come in.

-OK.

Are you sure you should be here?

I told you, Vincent and I had a little sit down, cleared the air.

Now take a seat, Carol.

In fact, Vincent practically begged me to come by

and share with you my life-changing news.

And I know you'll be amazed.

Please be a sex change.

Actually, no, this is better.

My name is Brian Fitzpatrick and I used to be morbidly obese.

-No, you didn't.

-Can I just finish the presentation,

I'll answer questions afterwards?

I'm ashamed to say that before you knew me I used to be a fat fuck,

as you can see from this picture of me as a teenager.

Oh, my God! You've lost so much weight.

That's incredible!

And grown a different face. That is incredible.

Can I have a closer look?

I think you'll find, Carol, that most of the Nature-Burn Community

are unrecognisable once they lose the weight.

You see, it's thanks to Nature-Burn's

supply of vitamin supplements and diet pills

that I became the slender man I am today.

And always have been.

Well, look, here's a little advance on your commission.

That should keep the taxman off your back for a bit.

Well done to Cachet's Head Of Commercial Sales!

Who?

What the fuck is going on, Brian?

Well, I just popped by to pick up a few things and then the guys

started peppering me with questions about my new business venture.

No, you said Vincent was begging you to tell us all

about your life-changing news.

I think what we need to focus on here

is that I have life-changing news.

I've had enough of this place.

Hang on, I was just about tell you Nature-Burn's...

Shove your diet pills up your arse.

Well, unfortunately Nature-Burn don't do suppositories,

but soon as they do, I'll happily shove them up my arse.

Martin, mate, hold up, let me buy you a pint.

So, these diet pills work then? How much you charging?

£30 for a month's supply.

But I am running a one week's free trial to get people hooked...

I mean, to get them on the road to a healthier lifestyle.

I'm prepared to make that exclusive one-time offer

exclusively to you, Tony.

What about me?

Well, I'm prepared to make that exclusive one-time offer

exclusively to you as well, Carol.

Oh.

Thank you.

And one for you. We're celebrating.

Seriously, if you've just followed me here to wind me up...

No, it's not like that.

I told you, I'm going to make sure you get your cut from this deal.

Just has to go through the right channels first.

The right channel being your back pocket?

No, mate, it's not like...

You've got to be shitting me!

Congratulations, Sam.

If you thought going on a date with Essex's answer to Jimmy Krankie

would wind me up, you were right.

Now, now, Vincent. This isn't a date as such.

I'm happy to say I've just hired Sam as my new PA

and this is a working lunch. We're talking about her new duties.

Yeah, well, she doesn't need a fucking job

so I suggest you look elsewhere!

Er, pipe down, Tarzan.

I'll be the one deciding if I need a job.

I can provide for my family, Sam.

Sorry about this, Andrew. I just need a minute, is that all right?

If you're such a great fucking provider

then why did the building society call to say

-that we're behind on the mortgage?

-I'm sorting it.

Save me the bullshit, Vincent.

You're not capable of sorting anything right now.

So please fuck off before I lose the only source of income for my family.

Sorry about that.

We are not skint. Give that to the fucking building society!

I think they might prefer a cheque or a standing order, old chap.

Try and save some of that money, yeah?

You've got Robbie for the day tomorrow

and you'll need to buy him something for his tea.

-Vincent?

-Yes, I know! I stole your deal, OK?

But I also said I would see you right,

like I have done these previous ten months while you've sold jack shit,

so please, stop fucking crying about it. Here.

That husband of yours is tremendously entertaining.

Oi, shithead.

Those diet pills you're flogging.

They're basically just speed, right?

No way. I don't care what Esther fucking Rantzen said

on That's Life, these are bona fide health supplements,

not re-packaged Purple Hearts.

Well, I'm not buying any then.

No, no, no, no, wait, hang on.

All right, yeah, they're speed, but they're 100% pure

and they're good shit.

Trust me, you'll be flying.

And boy did I need something to bring the old Vincent Swan mojo back.

My whole shitting world was falling apart.

And it wasn't only Walshy and Little Prick taking advantage

of my recent dip in performance.

CAR HORN

ENGINE REVS

Brrm, brrm, mate!

Fuck. Things are worse than I thought.

Usually these zit-faced little fuckers would rue the day

they yanked my chain. Not now.

Shit, they can literally smell the weakness pouring out of me.

Mr Burglar?

Fuck.

Show yourself.

Come out whoever you are.

Hello?

Who's that?

Morning, Carol.

Jesus Christ.

Almost. It's me. You all right?

You scared the shit out of me.

The lights have just turned themselves off.

-Must be the poltergeist.

-The what?

Same thing happened to Walshy yesterday. The showroom's haunted.

It definitely smells like something died in here.

Sorry about that. Dodgy tum.

I think it's those diet pills.

Or maybe this place really is haunted.

Spirits, send us a sign.

-Don't...

-PHONE RINGS

Hello? Yeah, this is Carol.

Oh, thank God, I thought you were a poltergeist.

Never mind. Yeah, he's here. One second.

It's Sam. Really angry.

Shit. Robbie! Tell her I'm on my way.

Meanwhile recent events had driven Lavender

back into the arms of an old flame.

Very good, so you were in Paul Young's band

just before he made it big?

Yeah. No, commercial success didn't really appeal to me.

Well, here in Ben Billing's band we're all about the music.

Now our bassist has broken his arm,

and we need a replacement for tonight's warm-up gig.

Then, and I don't know if you're up for this,

we're going to be heading up north to tour to support the miners.

Love supporting the miners. "Support The Miners!"

I could well be interested in coming on the tour, thank you.

Are you sure?

Because it's a very long commitment, and I'll be straight with you,

last couple of gigs we've had some unwelcome attention

from National Front thugs.

Sure. I am done working for The Man.

I mean, I've probably got to give The Man

a couple of weeks' notice, but after that I'm ready to quit

this town and get back on the fucking road.

Not to mention get back on the booze and the drugs and the groupies!

Well, I'm sober these days.

Yeah, I'm more hopped up on the notion

of trying to change shit politically through music.

Yeah. Me too. That's what I meant.

Glad to hear it, comrade.

Your bloody pills are making me feel like shit.

Me too.

Can't be the pills. They've been scientifically tested.

By scientists.

Maybe it's the showroom poltergeist?

It's not a ghost, Carol, it's his shitty pills.

What's this low-life doing here?

Haven't you got a job or a park bench to get to?

This is my job. Thank you very much.

First client progress session, the daily weigh-in.

As soon as we're done, I'll be out of your hair.

We are done, mate.

I don't need a weigh-in to tell me I've lost 2st because

that's how much shit has flown out of my arse in the past 24 hours!

All right, let's keep things civil.

You don't have to take the pills, Tony.

They're a free trial,

although you should know that there might be some withdrawal symptoms.

What kind of fucking symptoms?

Shakes, headaches,

a few of the old suicidal thoughts.

Should only last a couple of days. Week tops.

OK. Walshy, a quick word?

Before you top yourself, can you forward me

the rest of the commission on the retirement home?

Until the ink is dry on the contract Vincent,

you've got two chances - no chance, and no fucking chance.

Now, would you all excuse me, please? I need a poo.

All right, Carol, where's Lavender?

I need him to get the contract signed by his bum-chum down at the council.

-He's at the dentist all morning.

-I'll do it myself.

Can you watch Robbie for a few hours?

No can do. I'm meeting a white witch this afternoon.

Course you are.

I can do it. I'm doing fuck all.

I mean, I could probably move a few clients around, make some space.

Really?

Tenner.

Christ.

All right.

Look, Uncle Brian is going to keep an eye on you

for a couple of hours, all right?

What! I knew today was going to be boring.

Listen, my number one son, you'll get to spend some quality

time with Daddy, straight after Daddy gets back from closing

a big fucking deal with the man from the council.

Those Ataris don't grow on trees, you know.

For the next hour, I'm going to forget my life's a shit-show

and seal this fucking deal using the old Vincent Swan magic.

First, I just might need some help from our old purple friends.

It's show-time, folks!

I've been waiting two fucking hours!

Two fucking hours!

I told you, Mr Swan, you haven't booked an appointment.

Mr Osbourne is a busy man.

-DOOR OPENS

-Mr Swan?

Rick Osbourne? Vincent Swan, Cachet Windows Head Of Commercial Sales.

I'm Martin Lavender's boss.

Sorry to barge in on you like this.

Really? Martin works for you?

Yeah. I see myself more as a mentor, a father figure.

Right, well, I'm actually on my way to another meeting right now

so if you want to fix up an appointment with Sarah,

we'll discuss this another time, OK?

Rick, I'll skip the foreplay and jump straight

into the penetration then.

We are very happy to be supplying windows to the old people's home

but in order cut the lead-time we need to get the contract signed

and the deposit paid.

As I said, Mr Swan, talk to Sarah about an appointment.

-There's no hurry.

-No, no, no, there is a big fucking hurry indeed.

Look, I have the contract here, so if you fancy signing it.

Sorry, mate. Sweating like a pig.

All right. I was dreading telling Martin this,

but it's actually going to be a lot of fun telling you.

There was an emergency council budget meeting last night.

The bloodsuckers on the council finally got their way.

We're closing the retirement home.

Makes more fiscal sense selling the land to a supermarket chain.

So the deal's off, I'm afraid.

Fuck.

Well, that's tragic.

I know. The poor residents are being relocated

to a council facility 17 miles away.

Fuck them, Rick. They're nearly dead. I'm 31!

How am I going to pay my mortgage?

You got any other high-end commercial deals

you want to sling Lavender's way?

Eh? Rick? Please. Oh, come on, mate.

The choice was simple,

either sell the Swan family home or spend my 30s in debtors' prison.

The way I saw it, they could always get rehoused,

whereas I wouldn't be able to get a new arsehole.

Sarah, love, who do I have to sleep with around here

to jump the waiting list for a council house?

The mark-up on these, it's incredible.

What are you doing here?

I'm just baby-sitting young Robbie here.

We've had a right laugh, haven't we, Robbie?

Uncle Fitzpatrick says I'm a bit on the chubby side

so he gave me some of these.

As a gift.

You can explain that to his mum.

Nice wheels.

You're funny.

No, no, I'm serious. I always wanted a Chopper.

Ape-hanger handle-bars and the old suicide clutch. It's a classic.

Yeah, well, we're a bit short of cash so I had to sell my car...

so, yeah, that's embarrassing.

Come on. I'll drive you guys home.

Or, better still, you drive you guys home

and I'll take the Chopper.

All right.

He's mental.

He is!

-A nutter.

-What is he doing?

Honestly.

What the fuck have you done, Vincent?

Oh, God!

Are you all right?

Oh, no. I think the suicide clutch has mangled my scrotum.

Oh, God, I'm sorry!

Why is the house for sale?

Just come inside.

I just wish that ball-bag Vincent could have told me about this first.

Could we leave ball-bags out the conversation for now, please?

Thank you. I've not had much to laugh about lately.

I'm glad my testicles could bring you some pleasure.

Who said chivalry was dead, eh?

Well, if you fancied a laugh that doesn't involve me

being neutered, you're welcome to come to the left-wing agit rock gig

I'm playing in support of the miners tonight.

Whoa! Well, I mean, how could I resist?

The best thing about having an affair with a 23-year-old

is that whatever the problem...

Vincent?

..sex is always the answer.

# Sweet dreams are made of this

# Who am I to disagree?

# I travel the world and the seven seas

# Everybody's looking for something... #

Why my Dad is going to hell,

to hell, to hell...

Good boy, Robbie.

Don't call me Robbie!

I didn't call you Robbie.

Yes, you fucking did.

What are you doing?

Checking if my hands are pulsating. Fucking pills!

Oh, shit, I forgot about Robbie.

Thank you. Thanks very much.

While I was ODing on sex and drugs,

Lavender was rekindling his rock and roll addiction.

Well done!

That was a lot of fun.

I like to think it's a bit more important than that, Martin.

Yeah, of course, yeah. I was just being an idiot.

-Yeah.

-I thought it was a lot of fun too.

Sorry for enjoying myself.

This is Sam. She's, erm... She's just kidding.

Well, the thing is, Sam,

I remember when this was a working-class town that would

have found common cause with the striking miners.

Now it's all Thatcher's fucking children,

buying their own council houses,

bankrupting themselves with flash cars and shitty double-glazing.

So I hope tonight wasn't so much fun as it was

a much-needed lesson in social responsibility.

And is it socially responsible to define people politically

by what they buy?

Because I think it's socially irresponsible.

And fucking patronising.

If you played a gig for striking double-glazing salesmen,

I wonder how many miners would be in the audience to support them?

Well, well, well. I see this lady is not for turning.

Lavender, you going to be on the tour bus tomorrow night?

Hell, yeah.

Great. Sam, pleasure sparring with you,

but got some TUC Execs in so I'd better go say hello.

Sorry if that was a bit...

He's just... He's just very committed.

Committed to being a pretentious twat?

Er, yes. He is 100% committed to that.

-Another drink?

-Yeah.

Oi, barman. We're going to need four bottles of Holsten here.

And now tell me we haven't missed that commie cunt Billings.

Oi, oi!

-Where is he?

-Where's that fucking nonce?

You're not like the other girls round here, really impressive, Sam.

A real live-wire.

All right, Ben. What happened to those TUC execs?

They're just outside in the beer garden,

waiting for an audience with Ben Billings, so...

better not disappoint.

Shall we do one?

Oh, yes, please.

All right, mate, you know that commie ponce Ben Billings?

I just saw him pop out into the garden if you're interested.

He had it coming though.

Yeah. What a dick.

"You're a live-wire, Sam, seriously."

"Oh, thanks, Ben, you sexy activist."

Is that meant to be me?

Yeah. Obviously. Hello.

"Oh, Ben, do you want to come in for a coffee and a class struggle?"

Yeah, all right.

"I was joking, Ben. I am married."

You weren't being Ben, were you?

Do you want to come in?

What about the kids?

They'll be asleep.

Yeah, come on.

Get away from my wife, you arsehole!

Gotcha!

Mate, you should have seen your fucking face, it was priceless.

What the fuck are you doing here?

Look, I understand you're annoyed. I'm sorry I fucked up today.

But I came to apologise and saw Robbie

and he was like, "Can you stay with me and watch Minder?"

Do you know what, I panicked.

I'll take the house off the market tomorrow.

Sam?

Sam, come on, don't be like that!

I'm sorry for being a dick to you about that council job.

It's already forgotten.

Robbie told me you brought him home and took Sam out to cheer her up.

You're taking care of my family better than I am at the moment.

Come on, mate. I know things are tough right now

but you'll pull through.

Thank you.

Now, are you on the old diet pills because I've lost mine

and I'm starting to shake like a fucking leaf right now.

Whoa, ooh, oh! Nobody wants you here.

Leave this place.

Ooh, ahh, hello!

Whoa...

-What's happening?

-It's an exorcism.

Don't worry, she's a professional white witch.

Oh, good, because just for a second there I was worried.

There. It's gone.

You shouldn't have any more trouble.

Oh, thank God.

If you do get any more problems with the lights then I'll get

-my boyfriend round.

-What is he a priest?

No, he's an electrician.

-Have you got a tenner?

-For what?

The witch services.

We're paying her for this?

I can throw in a quick tarot reading as part of the price.

I sense a troubled soul in you.

Tarot reading?

No offence but if I want to appeal to a higher authority to get me

out of this fucking hole, it'll be someone with more clout

than a track-suit-wearing Grotbags.

It looked like I was going to have to take this one to the very top.

I guess I'm really doing this.

Dear God,

Jesus, Mary,

whoever the fuck it is that deals with prayers,

or let's call it what it is - begging requests.

So this is it, I'm literally down on my knees.

I mean, how does it even work?

I promise to believe in you,

adjust my behaviour accordingly,

and you do what?

Give me a sign?

Or a feeling of hope.

Do you still do the whole voice of God thing?

Vincent Swan,

your prayers have been answered.

Ronnie?

No, it's God, you berk.

What are you doing here?

I've got a deal with that old wino Father Andrews

for the communion plonk - it's Don Cortez cheap shit that's not been

consecrated, but don't tell the Catholics.

You don't believe in this old bollocks, do you, Vincent?

No. Course not, it's a mug's game.

Ronnie, you don't want to get a pint, do ya?

I've got something I'd like to get your advice on.

So what can I help you with, Vincent?

Yeah, erm... Well...

Oh, no. Not these cunts.

It's him again. You want some?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Mug.

What did you do that for, you fucking nut job?

I smell different today, don't I, boys?

Leg it, leg it!

Sorry about that.

Now, Ronnie, isn't it about time you and I went into business together?

# Red light spells danger

# Can't hold out much longer

# Cos red light means warning

# Can't hold out, I'm burning

# No, no, no You took my heart and turned me on

# And now the danger sign is on... #