["Silly Love Songs" playing]
♪ You'd think that people would have ♪
-[doorbell rings] -♪ Had enough of silly love songs ♪
Excuse me.
-♪ I look around me and I see ♪ -[woman] Hello?
♪ It isn't so ♪
Excuse me.
♪ Some people wanna fill the world-- ♪
Excuse me. Are you the homeowner?
-[Vincent] That depends. -Depends on what, exactly?
Whether you're here to tell me I've won the pools or not.
[chuckles] Not quite.
I'm looking for a Mr. Vincent Swan.
-Ah. -[woman] I take it that's you?
No, sorry.
And you are?
The gardener.
Well, if you could pass this on to Mr. Swan,
tell him that Miss Barnes from Her Majesty's Inland Revenue
stopped by to discuss his tax affairs.
Will do. What's he done?
[sighing]
It's more what he's not done, really. As in pay any tax.
[Vincent] Hmm.
Do many people on this council estate have private gardeners?
No. I'm a luxury few can afford.
-Tell Mr. Swan I'll see him soon. -[Vincent] Oh, I will, sweetheart.
"Nothing's certain in life but death and taxes."
You know who said that? Some fucking loser.
It's defeatist bullshit
designed to make the feeble feel better about their tragic lives.
"Death and taxes"? I plan on avoiding both.
♪ You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs ♪
♪ I look around me and I see... ♪
[Vincent sniffs]
Mmm. You look handsome.
And flammable.
Have you got any cash? I need to pay for Robbie's school trip.
-Wallet's in my pocket. -Ah.
Uh, jacket pocket.
Oh, it's all right. I think I've found what I've been missing.
-Sam, I don't have time. -That's not what Mr. Winky is telling me.
He seems very pleased to see me.
That's not fair.
I think it's more than fair, Vincent Swan.
It's been ages since we've had any fun together.
Oh, Jesus, that feels good.
Alright. Let me get out of these trousers, yeah?
[Sam] No, no, no. You keep them on.
I want you like this, Mr. Big Shot Salesman.
In his suit. Mmm.
Let's close this deal, Vincent. It's business time.
I'm on my knees, baby, begging for all of your product.
That's it. Mmm, close the deal.
All over my fingers. That's it.
[Vincent gasps]
There we go. Mmm!
Shit.
I have to change now.
Well, let that be a lesson to you.
And I swear I'll make you ruin every single pair of trousers in that wardrobe
until you give your family some proper attention.
[Vincent] But Sam wasn't the only one yanking my dick that particular morning.
You've got to be shitting me.
[Carol] Oh, he'll probably be here in five minutes.
Just come in, right inside.
[telephone ringing]
Pick up the phone, shitheads.
-[ringing continues] -[Carol] Yeah, he won't be long.
No one move, I'll get it.
Cachet Windows and Doors. How may I help you?
Carol, this is Vincent.
Listen. Don't talk.
That woman is from the tax office. She's after me.
How do you know that?
-Is this magic, like Paul Daniels? -[Vincent] Stop fucking talking.
I'm over the road in the phone box.
Don't look.
Jesus Christ.
Oh, sorry, I'm very suggestible.
[Vincent] Look, I need you to calmly put the phone down
and tell her I do not work there, and you have never heard of me.
I've never heard of Vincent Swan.
So why did you just invite me in and tell me he'd be along in five minutes?
I thought you said...
Winston... Ston.
Winston Ston?
Okay.
Neither of you gentlemen would happen to be Vincent Swan?
-No, sorry. -Well is either of you the business owner?
-No, I just work here in sales. -"Work" is debatable.
He just sits there and looks pretty. I'm the salesman.
Pointless comment.
If you'd like to speak to Tony Walsh,
he's the business owner. He's usually at the factory.
-Do you have an address handy? -Here's his card.
Hmm, thank you for being more than just a pretty face.
Um, thanks.
If you do happen to run into Mr. Swan,
please do let him know that I stopped by.
Will do.
I mean, I would do...
if I could, but I can't.
Because I don't even know him. And he's never worked here.
Bye.
-Lavatory couldn't wait to grass you up. -Don't be a cock.
-I was getting her out of the showroom. -You and your student comrades
might want to go and live in Russia, but here, in the free west,
we try not to inform on our pals.
Brian, will you just give it a rest for two minutes while I try to figure out
how to get this fucking bloodhound off my scent?
Here's an idea:
why don't you pay your tax like the rest of us?
Because, unlike you, I'm not a mug, mate.
Paying tax is like paying your TV licence fee:
you only do it if they catch you.
-Which she has done. -No, she's just knocked on my door.
Now all I have to do is hide under the sofa until she moves on to the next sap.
-Wouldn't it be easier to just pay them? -I can't, mate.
I conscientiously object to taxation.
On what grounds?
On the grounds that I tried it once, and I didn't like it.
Luckily, it wasn't bad timing for an enforced sabbatical from the business
as I'd recently branched out into movie distribution.
Can you believe people will pay 20 quid a pop
to get their own copy of this boggly-eyed little cunt?
This all started with a visit from our friendly neighborhood loan shark.
Morning, sir.
[Vincent] Ronnie Farrell had recently acquired some electrical goods
and needed a safe place to store them for a few weeks.
Stay in the van! I mean it!
[Vincent] Just until the paperwork got sorted.
Anyway, these goods turned out to be
a batch of state-of-the-art video recorders and camcorders.
Which was handy because as well as crushed dreams,
the music industry had given Lavender a basic knowledge of recording equipment.
So, when I got hold of an illegal VHS of the biggest movie on the fucking planet,
we set up our own dubbing suite and entered the pirate video business.
[scoffs] Will you piss off, will ya? God, turn that bloody thing off!
[sniffs] God. [melodramatic soundtrack playing]
The little boy's sick now.
And the alien.
And talking of illegal aliens, meet Brendan, our Irish fitter.
It turns out I wasn't the only Cachet employee
looking to branch out into show business.
Martin, you've been to university. You can work a camera, can't you?
I need some photos done.
Yeah, I can work a camera, Brendan. Not because I've been to university.
You just press the button on top.
-Will you take the fucking pics or not? -Yeah, yeah.
Seeing as you're asking so nicely. What are we shooting?
Donna, get your arse in here!
I need somebody to take some topless shots of Donna
for this Page 3 competition they're running in The Sun.
Five hundred quid first prize.
Obviously, I'd do it if I weren't her Da.
Jesus, Brendan. How old is she?
-Sixteen. -It was my birthday on Sunday.
Oh, many happy returns, love.
Was it a toss-up between getting roller boots
or getting some tit shots done?
-No, no. She got her roller boots too. -[Lavender] Right.
-I want no part in this. -[sighs] Typical.
I suppose Comrade Lenin didn't approve of tits?
I wouldn't know. I'm not a communist. I just think Page 3 is degrading to women.
'Course you do. That's the problem with these Trotsky types, Brendan.
Dare to show a bit of entrepreneurial spirit,
and they want to piss all over your dreams from their lofty moral high ground.
[Lavender] It's not political.
I just don't particularly wanna see Donna's, or anyone's, tits
splashed across my newspaper.
Careful with that smart mouth of yours, boy.
-I'll take the pictures, Brendan. -Cheers. There's the camera.
If you'd like to just follow me upstairs, Donna.
I'll be back in an hour, love.
Don't be late, 'cause I've got majorettes at 6.
[mutters agreement]
Something wrong with you.
Come on, loosen up a bit.
Try and look a little less... dead-eyed.
Doesn't matter. I just wanna get this over with and get my 500 quick.
Well, if you wanna be in with a chance of winning the money,
we gotta get a shot that doesn't look like it should come with a ransom note.
-You saying I might not get paid for this? -It's a competition.
Only the winner gets the money. It's not Reader's Wives.
-I don't know what that is. -Of course you don't.
It's an erotic magazine where consenting adults send in nude photos.
-A grot mag? -Yeah.
-And they get paid? -Yeah.
Twenty-five quid a shot.
I've heard... someone... I've heard...
Lavender told me.
Well let's just do that, then.
Yeah, all right then, but don't tell your dad.
That's better.
[Vincent] Meanwhile, hiding from the tax Nazi
gave me the chance to score some brownie points with Sam and the kids.
Hands up who thinks I'm the best daddy in the world.
Well, hands up who wants a day off school.
-Yep. -That's better.
All right. The Swans are having a family day out.
I see they're thinking up new ways to make Page 3 even creepier.
There's the latest.
"Cute little Karen Clarke was a topless beauty at an early age,
but she's a big girl now, all right, and every inch a lady."
She sure is. What's wrong with that?
Just everything possible, I suppose.
They've even lined up her two-year-old self,
so she's looking directly at her 19-year-old breasts.
Do you honestly think that's all right?
'Course. Look at little Karen there. She looks pleased as punch
she turned into such a stunner.
Oh, hello, love. Just head upstairs. Get yourself ready.
Don't call me "love".
What are you up to?
-None of your beeswax. -All right.
Maybe I'd better ask Brendan when I see him.
All right, I'm just helping Donna make a little bit of extra pocket money.
If she's going to immortalise her bangers on celluloid,
she might as well get some moolah doing it.
Her words, not mine, before you start labeling me "sexist".
Hello, Brian. We okay to leave the car out the front?
No, the warden round here's a Nazi.
Just swing it round the back of the showroom.
Who was that?
Those gentlemen are local artistes
who've expressed an interest in honing their nude,
still life photography techniques.
They look like the sort we were warned not to speak to on the way home from school.
Yeah, well as they're paying 200 quid for an hour's studio time,
me and Donna are more than happy to speak to them.
You just stay down here, staring disapprovingly at tits.
[Vincent] Now her genies were out of the bottle,
Donna wanted quick, easy money,
and Fitzpatrick was precisely the kind of degenerate to help her find it.
Elsewhere, the Swan family Beano was underway,
and nothing says quality family time
like a visit to the spot where it all began.
-[Robbie] So creepy down here. -[Sam] We're not lost, are we, Vincent?
[Vincent] No one's lost. We're nearly there.
-Do you know what that is, kids? -What are we looking at?
-More boring trees. -[Vincent] No.
That is the spot where you were conceived.
-Oh, Jesus, Vincent. -Right up against that big tree.
[Sam] You actually think this is all right?
-Oh, I want to go back to school. -What does "conceived" mean?
You're gonna have to do much better than this, Vincent.
Okay.
Fitzpatrick's photography class was soon exploring all the classical poses:
naughty school girl, sexy tennis player, slutty nurse.
And while a picture paints a thousand words,
it turns out a video was gold dust.
-Do you ever record these sessions? -Come on, mate, don't take the piss.
-How much? -Another 200 quid.
Each.
Shit, really?
And you're both in?
-Donna? -Yeah.
All right, wait here.
All right, look. It's got auto focus, so all you need to do is point and shoot.
And then making copies is pretty easy.
Just put the master copy into one machine, press "play",
then take a blank tape and put it into the other machine
and press "play" and "record". There you go. That's it.
If you film it and run off a couple of copies, there's a 20 in it for you.
Huh. Let me see.
My dignity and self-respect versus 20 pounds. That is a tough one.
Come on. Donna doesn't give a shit.
It's all tasteful Page 3 stuff.
Yeah, Page 3 isn't really tasteful, though, is it?
Oh, your KGB pal is back for more info.
Tell you what, try and resist the urge to grass this time.
Hello, Miss... Barnes.
Don't tell me. You liked our windows so much, you're back for a free quote?
Unfortunately, I'm here on official business.
Though, you could sell me anything with those puppy dog eyes of yours.
[grunts]
Any sign of your colleague Vincent Swan?
Don't think I have a colleague called "Vincent Swan".
[Miss Barnes] Nice, very good.
The problem is that our investigators have evidence that Mr. Swan
has been an employee of Cachet Windows for the last eight months.
And yet no one who works here seems to remember him.
Isn't that strange, Pretty Face?
That is strange, but like I said, I really can't help you.
The thing is, Mr...
Call me "Martin".
The thing is, Martin, we could continue with this charade for weeks
until I eventually catch him,
or we could investigate other avenues
for making all of this unpleasantness disappear.
I'm sorry, "other avenues"?
Let's just say I'm more inclined to believe an individual
when they're trying to be accommodating.
And right now I can see great potential...
for how accommodating you might be to me.
Oh, my goodness. Is that the time? I must fly.
Tell Mr. Swan I'll be back tomorrow.
["The Tide is High" playing]
[gulls calling]
-[Natalie] They look evil. -Dad, I'm scared.
It's freezing, Vincent. Can't we just eat these in the car?
[Vincent] Don't be daft. Look around.
Beats any al fresco dining experience on the planet.
And is "al fresco" Italian for "bleak and terrifying"?
[gull screeches] [family laughs]
All right, look, we're not gonna let a couple of seagulls ruin our moment.
They're predators. They won't attack if an alpha stares them down.
I'll bog them out. You finish your dinner.
Right, you thieving little bastards, stay away from my family.
-Oh, no. -Really?
-[family chatter] -[Vincent mimicking gulls]
He's obviously practised this before.
[mimicking gulls]
Right. Maybe we've all had about as much Vincent time as we can handle.
[gull screeches] [Natalie] Whoa!
-Mama! -Right.
-Car. We're getting in the car, Vincent. -This is ridiculous.
You're right. Your dad can do better than this.
-[Natalie] Yeah. -[Vincent] Gimme.
What are you doing?
Run!
-[family laughing] -[Vincent] Come on!
What I really wanted to show you was the new creation.
Um...
[laughter]
["Solsbury Hill" playing]
See what I made?
[indistinct]
Would you like a bite?
-We have to go on this! Come on! -Let's go, let's go.
[inaudible]
♪ Climbing up on Solsbury Hill ♪
♪ I could see the city light ♪
♪ Wind was blowing, time stood still ♪
Let's go. Go, go, go!
♪ Eagle flew out of the night ♪
Thank you. They really needed that.
-I enjoyed it. -Good.
So you heading back in tomorrow?
No. I thought we could all go up to London.
We can't keep them off school another day.
Besides, it's Robbie's school trip tomorrow.
I said that you might chaperone him if you were around.
-And where are they going? -Is that a "yeah"?
I'm thinking about it.
Right, well, it's Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,
Basildon Civic Centre.
You're gonna have to make me spunk in a few more pairs of trousers
before I agree to that.
Well, that can be arranged.
You two are disgusting.
[Vincent] We weren't the only ones having a productive day.
Right. I'll run off a few copies.
♪ Hey! ♪
Brian, can you tell them to hurry up, please?
Bollocks. Uh, blank tape...
Bollocks. Uh...
[Vincent] The next day, after Sam had persuaded me several times over,
I agreed to take Robbie on his school trip.
Right, wait here. I'll be back in a minute.
But before that, my other demanding children required some attention.
-Morning, arseholes. -[Fitzpatrick] All right.
Right, I haven't got long.
I've gotta get on a coach with 35 snot-nosed teenagers in half an hour.
Ah, sweetheart. Some coffee and some toast, please?
-There we are. -All right. Thanks for doing these.
[Lavender] You're welcome.
Oh, shut the lid, will ya? That fucking thing gives me the creeps.
You're happy to sit in a room full of sex offenders, taking tit pics of a teenager,
but loveable old ET gives you the creeps?
Yeah, it's business. This is different, isn't it?
-It's... I just don't trust his kind. -"His kind"?
What, special effects puppets?
No. You know what I mean. Fucking aliens.
I mean, what is their game?
I'm not sure they exist, let alone have a game.
If they want me to be less suspicious,
stop shining blinding white lights in my face,
and speak through your mouth. Don't send messages directly to my brain.
It's fucking freaky.
Most of these concerns appear to be based on Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
Speaking of close encounters,
did our friendly neighborhood tax inspector pay a visit?
Yes, she did,
and the good news is I might've found a way to get her off your back.
The bad news is I think it involves me sleeping with her.
It sounds like disastrous news. For her.
A bit of, uh, good old-fashioned sexual harassment. Sly minx.
So look, what's next? I don't feel comfortable asking you to sleep with her.
Although I'm definitely going to insist he does exactly that.
Lavender wasn't the only one holding the shitty end of the stick.
When I'm old, and you even think about putting me in a home,
reflect back on this day, young Robbie.
These are the sacrifices.
Morning, girls.
-Is that your teacher? -Yeah.
Please don't embarrass me today, Dad.
I wouldn't dream of it. I'll be on my best behaviour, son.
Okay.
Morning, Miss Lyndsey.
No need to run, Robbie. There's plenty of spaces left.
Vincent Swan, Robbie's dad.
Oh, hi. Thanks for coming.
-Your wife wasn't sure you could make it. -Ah, wouldn't miss it for the world.
So, in my day, it was always the naughty boys
that sat at the back of the bus.
[laughs] Well, it still is.
Although, it's not only the boys that get up to no good.
Certainly not in my experience. So, where would you like me, Miss Lyndsey?
I think up front where I can keep my eye on you.
♪♪
[Miss Lyndsey] Girls.
Dad, I saved you a seat.
Dad!
Dad?
Oh, no! I'm so--
Quick, there's paper towels in the toilets, just out there.
-Oh, I should go with her, really. -Nah, she's all right. She's--
Just through the door.
[sighs]
-Malteser? -Thanks.
Right, Robbie, you're gonna need to walk home on your own.
What? I thought you were taking me.
I gotta get back to work, mate.
-Okay. -I'll see ya.
[Robbie] See ya.
Need a lift anywhere, miss?
Yeah, all right.
Can I let you into a secret?
I hate musicals.
And I hate kids, so we're a pair of martyrs.
["Hungry Like the Wolf" playing]
Before you rush to judge,
I just sat through three hours of Andrew fucking Lloyd Webber.
I deserve a treat.
♪ Dark in the city, night is a wire ♪
♪ Steam in the subway... ♪
[Vincent] Later that evening, Lavender was taking one for the team.
As abuses of power go, it was hardly Watergate,
but he was still terrified it might end with a deep throat.
We're not that dissimilar, really, are we, Martin?
I mean, we both get paid to go door-to-door,
asking people if they'll hand over cash that they don't want to.
Not exactly. Our customers get a great product for their money.
Our precision-engineered doors and windows are...
Fucking hell. Sorry, I'm starting to sound just like Vince... Winston.
Oh, yeah. Good old Winston Ston.
[Miss Barnes chuckles]
Come on, we're outside of business hours now.
You don't have to keep the guard up.
I mean, frankly it's weird enough that we're doing this anyway.
This isn't that weird.
I'm not usually this impulsive.
There was just something about you that made me throw caution to the wind.
Possibly the pretty face?
-Possibly. -[Lavender chuckles]
Another drink?
No, thank you.
I think I'd better be going, actually.
I've already crossed enough lines tonight to lose my job several times over.
Okay, I'll walk you to your car.
The thing is though, Martin, once you've crossed the line...
["Relax" playing]
Mmm...
you might as well make damn sure it's worth it.
♪ Relax, don't do it ♪
♪ When you wanna go to it ♪
[Vincent] That was one thing, at least, the tax office and I could agree on.
♪ When you wanna come ♪
♪ Relax, don't do it ♪
♪ When you wanna suck it, do it ♪
♪ Relax, don't do it ♪
♪ When you wanna come ♪
Ohh!
I'm gonna need you
to put your fingers inside me.
-What, here? -Well, obviously here.
I mean, it's quite public.
Oh. Just do it.
Ohh!
Now...
Martin, tell me your National Insurance number.
-What? -Your National Insurance number.
Give it to me.
And keep on doing that.
-Ahhhh. -Um, it's...
NCW...
-Oh! -21...
-55... -Oh!
-...764. -Mmm!
-I think. -Now, slowly...
your tax code.
Sing it out.
It's 57...
-Mmm. -73...
M1.
Ohh, yeah. Emergency tax code.
Ooh... Yeah, I'm almost there.
Taxable income...
for the last tax year.
-Seven thousand... -Ohh!
eight hundred big ones.
Ohhh! Oh, Martin!
[Miss Barnes squeals]
[sighing]
That is fucked up. So, she didn't want to screw you?
Nope. After that, she said "good night",
shook my hand, and told me she wouldn't be around anymore.
She did leave this fucking great bite mark on my shoulder as a memento, though.
Ouch.
-Might need a rabies shot that, mate. -Don't push your luck, mate.
I basically whored myself to clear the coast for you.
You know I'd do the same for you, mate.
-Here. A token of my appreciation. -Quite literally the wages of sin.
But I'll take it. Cheers.
-How long, chef? -Five minutes.
-Where are the kids? -Inside, watching ET.
[Natalie] Mum!
Mum! Tits!
-[Donna] Like this? -[man] Yeah, yeah, hold it like that.
-[man] Can you squeeze them together? -[Sam] Right.
Turn this off! Kids, go upstairs. Go on! I want a word with your father.
[Donna] Can I shift my leg, now?
-I've got pins and needles. -[man] No, no, no.
Will you turn this fucking thing off?
[man] Oh, look at that.
I seriously had no idea how Donna's twin peaks ended up in Spielberg's second act,
but I was pretty fucking certain who was to blame.
I can explain.
Right, you're gonna get out there and recall every fucking copy I've sold
before someone else's kids discover ET stands for "Extra Titties".
Straight away. I'll take care of it.
Shit. Boys, you'd better look at this.
However, someone in the West Essex area has been selling pirated copies
on poorly branded VHS tapes like these.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
...are offering a £1,000 reward for information leading to an arrest.
Now these pirate recordings do not only feature the loveable alien.
There's also a rather bizarre intermission
featuring a conventionally pretty young lady.
Maybe you know the young lady involved,
or maybe you recognise the room where she's modelling.
-Holy Mother of God. -If anyone has any information...
[telephone rings]
[Sam] Hello. Stanford 4163.
Um, sorry, he's out, Walshy.
You'll have to calm down, darling. I can't understand a word you're saying.
[Vincent] Walshy was on the warpath.
He'd seen Police Five and was threatening to sack us all first thing Monday.
So, not only did I have to torch the entire fucking pirate ET stock,
I had to call Ronnie Farrell and explain
why he had to collect his equipment immediately.
He took it reasonably well, for a dangerous sociopath.
Two hundred I've already paid you, plus a hundred for the inconvenience.
Fair enough.
And finally there's a hire fee for using my equipment without my permission.
Sorry, what's that?
Another two hundred.
[Vincent] But somehow,
come Monday morning, we still had our jobs.
-Right, what the fuck has been going on? -[Vincent] What are you going on about?
What? I saw Police fucking Five.
Have you been out in the sun a bit too much this weekend, Tony?
[Carol] Tony, your wife called.
I told her you were busy hunting for topless models,
but she said call her back immediately.
Looks like someone should "phone home".
I'll take it downstairs.
I know you pricks have been up to something.
Oh, and this came for you, Martin.
Oh, the conniving little shit!
She must've done a background check on me.
What's happened?
It's a demand from the tax office for unpaid national insurance.
Two hundred and thirty quid!
Ha, that'll teach ya.
There's always hidden costs when you finger-bang old grannies over the bins.
[chuckles]
Really, you should be paying this, Vincent.
Oh, I would, mate,
but I told you, I'm a conscientious objector when it comes to tax.
[Brendan] Where's that weasely wee cunt?
Is that Fitzpatrick you're after, Brendan?
-[Brendan] Eh? -Listen, I will pay your tax bill.
Okay? Just don't tell him I'm up here.
I'll pay it myself, mate. This'll be a lot more fun.
He's up here, Brendan.
Nobody makes money out of my daughter's tits except me.
Come here. I'll kill you, you thieving bastard!
["Sign of the Times" playing] [Fitzpatrick yelps]
♪ As I lie here ♪
♪ Thinking of you ♪
♪ I realize ♪
♪ That nothing is new ♪
♪ Lying in my bed ♪
♪ Thinking of you ♪
♪ I realize ♪
♪ Nothing is new ♪
♪ You say you love me ♪
♪ But want success ♪
♪ I say you're lying ♪
♪ Nothing has changed ♪
♪ This is the sign of the times ♪
♪ Piece of more to come... ♪