1
There was nothing extraordinary
about my mum and dad,
nothing dramatic.
No divorce or anything,
but they were my parents
and I wanted to remember
them by doing a picture book.
It's a bit odd, really, having
a book about my parents up there
in the bestseller list among all
the football heroes and cook books.
They'd be proud of that, I suppose.
But probably rather embarrassed too.
I imagine they would say,
"It wasn't like that."
Or, "How can you talk about that?"
Well, I have.
And this is their story.
- Bye, Mum!
- Bye, dear.
- Ta ta, Ern, mate.
- Ta ta.
Ta ta.
Hurry up with that dusting, Ethel.
There's the fire to stoke
and the beds to make.
Yes, madam. I won't be long.
Ethel! Aren't you finished yet?
Yes, madam.
Sorry, madam.
Hey, hey!
Ethel! Where are you?
Coming, madam.
Hm...
Ethel!
Ethel!!
- Ethel?!!
- Oh.
Yes, yes, I'm coming!
Doh!
Hello, duck.
Oh! Oh, it's you.
Thought I'd introduce myself.
You've waved that blooming
duster at me enough times.
Oh, no, I didn't mean
to. It was just that...
Name's Ernest.
- I'm Ethel.
- That's a nice name.
Well, Ethel, how about coming
to the pictures with me?
Oh, well, I...
They've got lots for me to do.
- What time you knock off?
- I finish about seven.
Perfect! They are showing
Hangman's House at the local.
- You mean, the Coronation?
- Yes.
- Starts at eight. I could meet you there.
- Thank you. That would...
- that would be very nice.
- Grand.
And these, they're for you.
They are... lovely.
- See you about a quarter to, then.
- Yes.
Yes, I'll be there!
Oh!
Ernest...
Two, please.
- Victor McLaglen.
- Who's he?
- Him up there.
- Oh.
My favourite.
Oh...
Oh, Ernest, doesn't it sound wonderful?
Cor! Blimey, yeah.
Five shillings to get in!
A bit posh if you ask me.
Tell you what, it's under a
shilling at our church hall
next Saturday.
- Are you on?
- Oh, Ernest!
- Lovely flowers, darling.
- Oh, that's Dad. He's potty about the garden.
- Did you all grow up here?
- Yes, 11 of us.
Bob, Beaty, Mag, Edie, me, Frank,
Flo, Jessie, George, Joe and Bill.
Cor, blimey!
Come and meet Mum and Dad.
Ernest, your tie.
- Want to make a good impression.
- Oh, yes, darling.
George was killed in the war,
Bob died as a baby and
Beaty died at two and a half.
- Poor little kiddies.
- Hm.
Hello, dear.
Mum, this is Ernest.
Very pleased to meet you, uh, Mrs. Bowyer.
You haven't asked me
to your home yet, dear.
Yeah, well, it's not as
nice as yours, darling.
What do you mean, not as nice?
Well, there's scrap
iron, rag-and-bone men,
there's fights outside the pubs. Women too.
The coppers won't go down there.
The last one that did
go, they bashed him up,
then sat on him and then blew him
up his whistle to fetch more coppers.
Oh! Ernest.
It's not your cuppa tea, darling.
Am I to understand that
you wish to leave us?
Yes, madam.
To get married?
Yes, madam.
To a man?!
Yes, madam.
Well...
...I hope you know what you're doing.
Ever so sorry, madam.
Give us your box, darling.
Oh!
I don't like leaving
them, they're so helpless.
They can't do a thing for themselves.
Hm. Serve 'em right.
Bloated plutocrats!
There's no need to swear, Ernest.
What?
Don't worry about them.
They'll soon get another skivvy.
I was not a skivvy!
I was a lady's maid and what's more,
I'm going to be married!
So am I!
Oh, it's lovely.
But 825? Can we afford
that mortgage business?
Yeah, it's easy. I'll be getting
three guineas a week soon.
Besides, we've got 25 years.
19... 55, it'll be ours.
A wrought iron gate, your ladyship.
Silly.
Oh, and look, Ernest, a marble pillar.
Look at this.
Oh!
Oh, Ernest. It's so much space.
- We could get those electric lights put in.
- Yeah, nice and modern.
Brother Fred's got a
wireless. He can hear Germany.
Whatever would you want
to hear Germany for?
Oh! A French window!
Oh, Ernest, there's the bathroom!
Blimey! The lav too.
Come along, Ernest.
Hm.
Ha!
Enormous bedroom! Four windows in one room!
It'll cost a fortune for curtains.
A bit different to home, eh, darling?
Lots of rooms for two people.
Perhaps they'll be more than two one day.
- What, lodgers you mean?
- No!
This could be our baby's room.
Nice and warm over the kitchen.
Let's get rid of this old range.
Ha! This boiler came out of the ark.
Hello, puss.
- Oh.
- A fair bit of garden.
More than down-home.
Oh, I've always wanted
my own bit of garden.
A little shed for my bike and workshop.
And mind you, keep it tidy.
Don't you start bossing me
about before we get married.
Oh, Ernest, I can't believe it.
- We'll have a kitchen and a scullery.
- A sitting room and a dining room.
- A garden and a shed.
- Don't forget the hall.
And the bathroom! Luxury!
Oh!
Yes, that's it. Hold it. Hold
to that they are, if you could.
That's it, lovely. That's it,
Mrs. Briggs. Lovely. Very nice.
Now, hold there. Hold it there. Big smiles.
We'll have one more of those.
- Go on, Ern. Let's see a kiss for the bride.
- Go on, Ern.
Yeah, one more. One
more, please, everybody.
Isn't the bedroom huge?
We'll need some cases under
the bed for our clothes.
A wardrobe, Ernest!
Oh. Oh, yes. Of course.
Good morning, Madam.
How many today, please?
Just you keep off my clean step, young man.
Oh!
Oh, Ernest.
I got a round that finishes
down our road, Ette.
That's nice, dear.
I should be done about 12 and then
I can get going on that old range.
I'll be glad to see the back of that thing.
It's a pig, duck.
One of those nice, new gas
cookers, that's what we need.
Oh!
Careful, Ernest!
Whoa-oh!
Any old iron, any old iron
Any, any, any old iron
You look neat, talk about a treat
You look dapper from your
napper to your feet...
Ernest, don't sing those
dreadful cockney songs.
Dressed in style, brand-new tile
And your father's old green tie on
But I wouldn't give you tuppence
for you old watch and chain
Old iron, old iron.
All right!
Hey!
Oh.
That's done the job.
That's it, smashing bed.
Nearly new. Mahogany, I think.
Whoop!
Good springs, look.
Newlyweds need good springs.
Come and try it out, darling.
Certainly not, Ernest.
It's broad daylight.
- I finished a new draining board, darling!
- Oh, lovely.
Fits over the edge.
Removable before cleaning.
What, with that and the new cooker...
We're in clover!
There. Bang on!
Ugh! It says here over
two million unemployed.
I'm lucky to be a milkman, Ette.
I hate coal under the stairs.
Coal dust gets everywhere
and it's so common.
Ha! I'll build a brick
bunker in the garden, then.
That'd be lovely.
What do you reckon,
Ette? Ho-ho-ho!
Oh, Ernest, it's far too big.
I'll make some nice loose covers.
Came out of a posh hotel. A bargain!
I've made a curtain for under
the tank. It'll hide the pipes.
I'll keep my outdoor clothes
there. The pipes will dry them off.
Oh, but your coats smell
of stale milk, Ernest.
Yeah, sorry.
Do you think you'll ever be promoted?
I blooming fear. Not me.
Yard foreman, stuck in a tin shed
all day, adding up rows of figures?
Blow that for a lark. I like the fresh air!
I could have married...
a deep-sea diver.
- Well, why didn't you?
- Because...
I didn't love him.
Why do you keep that picture
of a baby on the wall?
Why do you think?
Well, it's not a relative, is it?
We've been married over two years.
I'll soon be 37.
Oh. Eh.
Don't cry.
I'm sorry.
- Oh, shush, shush, shush.
- Mm.
I know. I know.
Evening Standard. Night news, night news.
Hitler wins power in Germany.
- Here you go, Rich.
- Ta, Ern.
- Evening Standard. - Oh, no.
- Hitler wins power in Germany.
This bloke, Adolf Hitler,
says they're publishing his book over here.
- Mein Kampf, it's called.
- Oh!
That's nice of him.
Huh?
Ette!
- Surprise, dear.
- Oh.
- New mirror!
- It's lovely.
How ever did you get it home?
- I walked it back on my bike pedal.
- How much was it?
Only half a dollar. I got
it off of didicoy down-home.
I've got a surprise for you too.
- Oh, yes?
- I've been to...
um... the doctor.
Oh... And?
- You mean?
- Mm.
- We're...?
- Yeah.
We're going to...?
Yippee!
- I can't believe it.
- Oh, Ette!
- Happy birthday, darling.
- Oh, Ernest.
And your card. They get bigger
every year. This one is all padded.
Bit my best present
isn't due until January.
- More tea, Ette.
- Mm-hm.
One more push, Mrs. Briggs.
Very good.
Goodness gracious me, what a fuss!
You'll wake the neighbours so you will.
Oh, my God! Ette!
Wait!
Steady now, Mr. Briggs.
You will surely not be bringing
those bottles into the birth room.
Sorry, Mrs.... Madam, nurse.
- Is she...?
- It's a boy.
- Is she...?
- Mother is well.
Oh, thank God for that.
Get as much rest as you
can now, Mrs. Briggs.
Baby is doing fine.
Thank you, Doctor.
Hello, Doctor.
Ette.
Oh, Ernest.
Oh!
- When was it?
- About five.
I was just doing Ashland Grove.
Nearly ran out of stelerized.
How do you feel? You
look... you look done in.
Tired.
It's all red.
He. It's a he.
Oh, yes.
Mr. Briggs, a word.
Yes, Doctor.
- It was touch-and-go.
- Oh?
Your wife is 38.
There had better not be any more.
But we wanted a proper family.
More children, no more wife.
I'm sorry.
Good day to you.
Right a bit, Ette. Don't want
the nappies in the picture.
That's it.
Hold it.
I don't have to tell you to smile.
This MP's pleading a
working-class flat should be
built with bathrooms. Labour MP, of course.
They always say if you give
the working-class a bath,
they keep the coal in it.
Oh, yeah? I haven't noticed
much coal in our bath.
Ernest! We are not working class!
Ha!
Oh, it's you.
- Hello, Ette. I've come to see the baby.
- Hm.
Come in.
Oh, how are you, duck?
Ernest, it's your stepmother...
again.
Hello, Mum.
I brought you a couple bottles of stout
and some coal.
Oh, thanks.
Thanks, Mum. No need.
Now, where's my little boy?
Oh, ain't he grown?
This is the BBC in London...
- What?
- ...now follows the news.
German Chancellor Adolf Hitler
announced today new laws that
will forbid Jews remaining
as German citizens...
Hey, Ern, turn that
blessed wireless thing off.
I don't want that man hear what I'm saying.
Prime Minister Chamberlain said
that a new meeting's
going to be held...
Here, Ette, did you know
if you're a Jew in Germany,
you are forbidden to marry a German?
Hm?
I would hate to marry a German.
No...
Cor! This gas copper is a real luxury.
Just turn the tap and strike a match.
BBC's going to start television
later this year.
What's that when it's at home?
Well, it looks like a wireless
set with pictures on top of it.
Moving pictures?
Talkies?
Yeah.
It'll be like going to the
pictures without going out.
What, you just sit and look at it?
- Yeah.
- Hm...
Suppose it might be all
right for the gentry.
Oh!
Oh!
Let's see that nappy, then.
Oh. Another load of washing.
It says the average family
needs 6 week to keep it
above the poverty line.
- What's the poverty line?
- Don't know.
Just wish I earned 6 a week.
Well, with the nipper growing up so fast.
Whee!!
Hey-hey! That's the way to do it, boysie!
Again, again.
Oh, Ernest, he's getting such a big boy.
- No, he's not. He's skinny like me.
- Wiry, Ernest.
And tall and lovely hair.
All those curls.
Oh, look! That's new.
They're serving teas in the balcony.
There's waitresses in aprons and caps.
Look's a bit posh.
- Whee! - Maybe some other
time, my dear. - Again!
Yes... some other time.
Whatever's up, darling?
What are you crying for?
- I've had it done!
- What? What?
- His hair.
- Eh?
They've cut it all off.
His beautiful curls.
Well, blimey, it's got to be done, Ette.
We can't have him running around
like a blooming girl all his life!
He's not a baby any more. He'll
be off to school in no time.
I know!
Hello, boysie.
What's wrong with Mum?
Mum! Mum!
Raymond, dear, shouldn't you be in school?
Mum, Mum! Ahh!
Whatever are you home for?
You mustn't come home
in the middle of the day.
Did you cross that main road?
You must have done.
- I can't find the sit down lavatories!
- You can't find the...
We showed you them.
No, they are girls. Girls sit down!
- No, there's boy sitting downs as well.
- No, there isn't.
It's all girls! Look out,
I want to go number two!
Nice day again, Mrs. Bennett.
Yes, lovely, Mrs. Briggs.
Sounds like that Hitler's on
the warpath, good and proper.
Oh.
Just hark at them.
They're all barmy.
Our George was killed in the last one.
And brother Tom.
It doesn't seem all that long ago.
Our poor old mother never got over it.
This television is going to be on
one and a half hours every evening.
Dreadful.
It will be like going to
the pictures every day.
Blimey! There is a photo here of
the Duke and Duchess of Windsor
shaking hands with Hitler.
Oh, he can't be so bad, then.
What?
Look, Mum.
The Prime Minister Neville
Chamberlain returned from
Germany today and spoke to
crowds at Heston airport
with the promise of peace.
I had another talk with
German Chancellor Herr Hitler.
And here is the paper which bears
his name upon it as well as mine.
Cor, Ette. Old Chamberlain has
given Hitler half of Czechoslovakia.
Oh, yes?
He says it's peace with
honour. Peace in our time.
Think goodness for that. Don't
you want that bit of toast, Ernest?
Ah. No thanks, dear.
Evening Standard.
Ta, Ern.
You there, Ette?
In here!
Hitler's marched into Prague now.
He'll be coming down our road soon.
Adolf Hitler? In Wimbledon Park?
It says here the government
is going to spend 200,000
on air raid shelters.
We better get ourselves ready.
Oh, not on the table, Ernest!
It's going to be very stuffy
with all this blackout up, Ernest.
Not half as stuffy as a
gas-proof room would be.
Poisoned gas?!
- Oh, I hadn't thought of that.
- We have to bung up the chimney,
tape over the cracks around
the doors and windows,
put wet newspapers in
between the floorboards.
He's a right old barmy.
Rarr!
Oh, Raymond! Behave.
This isn't a game, you know?
Underneath the spreading
chestnut tree...
Mr. Chamberlain and said to me
If you want your
gas masks fitted free
Join the blinking ARP.
Read this booklet until you
know by heart what it contains.
Oh, I wish I had a proper gas mask carrier.
Not a soppy old cardboard
box and string. It's not fair!
Oh, dear.
Ernest. Ernest, can you hear me?
- No!
- I can!
Be quiet, son.
Can you beat it? IRA bombs in
London, Manchester and Birmingham.
When will it end?
Oh, those Irish, they are just
like the blessed Arabs and Jews.
- Always at it.
- Yes, and don't forget the Serbs and Croats.
They're just as bad. Then
there's the Hindus and Muslims.
Why can't they all just be
like us and live in peace?
We interrupt this broadcast
with an announcement from
the Prime Minister in London.
I am speaking to you from the
Cabinet Room in Downing Street...
Underneath the spreading
chestnut tree...
- Ssh! It's the Prime Minister.
- Mr. Chamberlin said to me...
Ssh, dear!
...handed the German
government a final note,
stating that unless we heard
from them by 11 o'clock,
that they were prepared
at once to withdraw
their troops from Poland,
a state of war would
exist between us.
I have to tell you now that no
such undertaking has been received.
And that consequently, this
country is at war with Germany.
Blimey, duck.
This is it.
Mum?
The government announced today
that one and a half million
children are to be evacuated.
Children living in big
cities and towns...
- No!
- ...are to be moved temporarily from their homes...
- No, they're not taking ours away.
- Course they are.
No, they're not. Over my dead body!
It will be over his dead body, then.
- Is that what you want?
- Oh...
- Oh, Ernest.
- Well, that's exactly what will happen. He's got to go.
Oh, sorry, darling. Come on.
Don't cry.
Don't cry, love.
I know...
You be a good boy now, Raymond.
Come on, then.
Up you go, son. That's it.
Bye, son.
- We'll send you some things in the post.
- Stand clear now!
I know, I know...
- Bye, darling.
- Bye...
Bye, son.
He's gone.
- He's gone...
- Don't cry, darling.
He'll be safe down the country.
He's only five!
Ernest!
Ernest, it must be from Raymond.
Yes! Yes!
"Dear Mum and Dad, Auntie Flo and
Auntie Betty are very nice ladies."
Look, he's done some drawings, too.
"I sleep on a camp bed
in Auntie Flo's bedroom."
Aw, poor little mite.
"I get the milk in a can. It is
not in bottles because it is cows."
Milk not in bottles? Blimey.
"I rode on a carthorse's
back when we got the hay.
"I nearly did the splits.
"Yours sincerely, Raymond."
"Yours sincerely"!
Mind my antirrhinums, Ernest.
I hope you know what you're doing.
Eh? Course, duck. You just wait.
That's it. All done.
Is that it? Finished?
Is it really bombproof?
You'll have to wait and see.
Russia's invaded Finland now.
I thought they'd invaded Poland.
- Yes, they have.
- But you said Germany's invaded Poland.
- Yes, that's right. - Well, who was
it invaded Czechoslovakia? - Germany.
Germany's always invading someone.
I expect they'll invade Russia
one day. Cor blimey! Not likely.
- They're in league. Or Russia will invade Germany.
- Oh, don't be daft.
Well, if they all keep
invading one another,
we'll end up invading someone.
Oh, Ette, you just don't
understand politics.
Doh! Now look.
Blessed shelter!
Do you think they ever will
come down our road, Ernest?
I expect it will be OK.
They say Hitler's assured Holland
and Belgium of his friendship.
Oh, that's nice.
What do you think? It's all right, eh?
I thought firemen had those nice
brass helmets with curly tops.
No, blokes have been getting
electrocuted in those.
At last!
Churchill's taken over.
- "Blood, toil, tears and sweat."
- Ernest!
- Don't. Disgusting.
- It's your gentry talking, his words, not mine.
Yes, but he was talking
to the common people.
He wouldn't use words
like that in his own home.
What General Weygand has called
the Battle of France is over.
The Battle of Britain
is about to begin.
Upon this battle depends
the survival of Christian civilisation.
But the whole fury and might of the enemy
must very soon be turned on us.
Hitler knows that he will have
to break us in this island
or lose the war.
We can stand up to him,
all Europe may be free
and the life of the world
may move forward into
broad sunlit uplands.
But if we fail,
then the whole world,
including the United States,
will sink into the
abyss of a new dark age.
Let us therefore brace
ourselves to our duties,
so bear ourselves that if the
British Empire and its Commonwealths
last for 1,000 years,
men will still say...
...this was their finest hour.
"Broad, sunlit uplands."
Good old Winston! Our finest hour!
They're starting to take away
our nice gate and railings.
- I'll make a wooden gate.
- Oh, it's a shame.
They want saucepans too.
They make 'em into Spitfires.
Funny to think of our
front gate being a Spitfire.
Front door's halfway up the stairs.
It's spoiled my loose covers.
Could've been worse, Ette.
We got off light.
I'm glad Raymond was
well clear of all this.
Perhaps when we've got this mess cleared up
we could take a trip down to
Dorset and give him a visit.
Mum! Dad! Look at me!
Look!
Raymond, be careful, dear.
No need to worry about him, Ethel.
He's got quite used to things now.
Oh! Lovely country smells, eh, boysie?
- Are the pigs like that because of the blackout?
- Oh, Ette.
Ooh!
Come along, Raymond. We've seen the pigs.
He's fitted into the school
very well, hasn't he, Flo?
- It's as if he's always been here.
- Oh, good...
Mum, the boys at school all have boots.
They're common boys, Ethel,
from Lambeth and Bermondsey.
Can I have boots?
Certainly not, Raymond.
I've always dreamed of
a cottage in the country.
Down here it's hard to
believe there's a war on.
Come on, piggies.
That Mr. Morrison and
his soppy shelter's ruined
my nice dining room.
Government precautions, dear.
Still, at least we won't
have to go out into the cold.
You look like you're in the zoo.
I'll paint it brown to
tone in with the furniture.
A nice pastel brown, Ernest.
Blimey.
What?
Germany's invaded Russia!
I wish I'd betted you sixpence.
Oh!
Night, dear.
Night.
Ernest, what on earth are
you doing with that ruler?
Marking five inches. You're only
allowed five inches of water.
But if you were fat, it would be higher up.
Yeah, well, the King's done
it at Buckingham Palace.
It's not fair, fat people
getting a deeper bath.
They say you're supposed to
share the bath too, darling.
Disgusting!
- We share ours.
- But not at the same time.
Over here! Go on, go on!
Jerry's got a direct hit.
Those buildings are going to topple.
- Is there anyone in 'em?
- Don't know. Hope to God not.
- Ted! - Over here, Ern!
- On the left. That!
- Go on, left window.
- Come on!
Left.
Watch out!
Oh, at last.
Are you all right?
Tired.
Been in the docks.
14 hours.
Here. Let me get your boots off.
- There.
- Loads of dead.
Little kiddie.
All in bits.
I had to...
There, there.
Have a good cry.
Cor! This Beveridge report!
Sickness pay, unemployment pay,
old age pensions, kiddies welfare,
free medicines, free hospitals.
Don't read, Ernest. Help!
Social security from
the cradle to the grave.
The welfare state.
It's what the workers have
always fought for. We've won!
- It will have to be paid for.
- Course it will.
We all chip in, that's the whole idea.
You can't chip in if you're out of
work, or off sick, or on a pension.
No, well...
Course not. It's all got to be worked out.
It's economics, see?
Economics will see to it.
There.
All done.
Oh, Ernest.
I know. I know.
- Auntie Flo.
- Yes, dear?
Mm... I wish I could
sleep in my own bed again.
Course you do, dear. That Mr.
Hitler's on the run now, Raymond.
I'm sure you'll be back
in London soon enough.
There. All done.
You there?!
- What's up, Ette?
- Dearest, I've been promoted.
- Clerk, grade B3.
- Cor!
No more packing parcels in
that rotten freezing warehouse?
No, I'm going to work in an office.
And that's not all, Ette.
Look, a letter from our boy.
They reckon he can come home now.
Oh! Oh, Ernest!
That's it, son.
Dig, dig, dig Feel
your muscles getting big
Keep on pushing in the spade
The turnip tops The
potatoes and the carrots
Cannot sprout without your aid
Don't mind the worms
Just ignore the squirms
When your back aches
Laugh with glee!
And keep on digging till
we give our foes a wigging
Dig, dig, dig to victory!
- Cup of tea, boysie?
- Thanks, Dad.
That country air has got you fit.
Dad?
Come on, son!
- Down the shelter! Run!
- Take cover!
Doodlebug!
Get down, son! Get down!
Engine's cut out.
Christ, it's coming down!
Cor. That was close.
- I didn't know they were bright blue underneath, Dad.
- Come on, son.
Shelter. Before any more
of the blighters come over.
We'd better get you back
down the country tomorrow.
Crikey, dear. Sounds like
a lot got through tonight.
I can't hear anything.
Hold tight, duck.
Some shelter. Full of glass.
Morrison shelters. That Mr.
Morrison must be a proper twerp.
Good job the boy wasn't in it.
He's only been gone two days.
The old Dorothy Perkins is still in bloom.
She survived.
Pity he didn't take his teddy with him.
Oh, Ernest.
How much more of this is there going to be?
- Ernest? - What? - Careful,
that's your second glass of beer.
- Victory in Europe, Ette!
- Yeah!
- Any time you're Lambeth way...
- Look! Look at Dad!
Any evening, any day
You'll find us all
Doing the Lambeth walk, oi!
Every little Lambeth gal
With her little Lambeth pal
You'll find 'em all
Doing the Lambeth walk, oi!
Everything's free and easy
Do as you darn well pleasey
Why don't you make your way
there? Go there, stay there!
Come on, Arthur! It's VE Day!
Cheer up. You look like a
dog that's lost its tail!
I lost my boy.
Oh, yeah...
I'm sorry, mate.
I'm sorry, I forgot.
Sorry.
Cor. Just think, there'll
never be another war.
Jessie's Bob is still fighting
the Japs, don't forget.
And you can knock this thing down.
When I finish tidying it.
Look. It's come up.
- What's that, son?
- A pear tree.
Auntie Flo gave me the
pips from a pear we ate.
Better not get too big, it
will block out all the light.
Don't discourage the boy, Ernest.
I like a nice pear.
Darling!
Labour's won!
We're in!
Such a shame for poor Mr. Churchill.
The working man will be
all right now. At last!
He saved our bacon in the war.
- Bloody marvellous.
- Ernest!
Mr Churchill never
swears. He's a gentleman.
- I'm Labour, Mum.
- Shush, dear.
It is now estimated
that casualties from the atomic bomb
dropped on the city of Hiroshima
could exceed 100,000 dead.
100,000 dead from one bomb.
Well, at least it will put paid to wars.
- Eh? Why?
- Well, you can't fight a war with bombs like that.
- Why not?
- Everyone would be dead the first day.
Mm.
Oh!
He's passed the scholarship!
He's going to the grammar school!
Hmm. I hope he won't get too posh for us.
Oh, Ernest.
And there. There we are. Now
turn around, sonny. Show Mummy.
Oh, Raymond.
You do look smart.
Oh, wait a minute.
Can't have a dirty face, can we?
Not at the grammar school.
Quite so, madam.
- Languages, eh?
- Oh, yes.
He has to do French and Latin. And maths.
Oh, like arithmetic?
No, not just arithmetic.
Um, it's called alge...
Um, alge-bra.
Oh. And sport?
- Does he do his football?
- Oh, no. They play rugger.
Ethel!
Oh, sorry, must go.
- You shouldn't go on about it to Mrs. Bennet, dear.
- Why not?
Well, her boy didn't get in
anywhere. He's a bricklayer now.
- I don't see why I shouldn't be proud of my own son.
- Yeah? Well, OK.
- Hey, hey!
- Mum! Look!
- What do you reckon?
- Smashing, Dad!
- It's electric, son.
- I hope you can keep control of it, Ernest.
- Can I have a go on it? - Just you keep
away from it. - Oh... - It's dangerous.
See you later.
Bye!
Hello, Ern.
Hello, Alf.
Ta.
- How goes it, then?
- Oh, not good.
My old lady, she's getting a bit much.
Oh?
- Rows, you mean? Money?
- No, no, no. You know...
The other.
- Mm?
- It's the change.
She's on the change.
Too demanding. Do you know what I mean?
I can't cope. It's too much for me.
So... if you ever fancy, you know...
- You'd be doing me a favour.
- Eh?
What? You mean, er...?
I'll be out next Saturday, football.
Fulham's at home. So...
You mean you...?
Yeah, like I say, you'd
be doing me a favour.
Ah, blimey, no. No, mate.
No, I couldn't. Sorry, no.
I've got a barrow to push.
Er, no hard feelings.
Nor me neither.
Ta-da, Alf.
- See you, Ern.
- Alf!
- Mrs. Briggs?
- Yes.
Detective Sergeant Burnley, CID.
Oh, no. Whatever is...?
Your son was apprehended breaking
and entering the golf club
and stealing valuable billiard cues.
- No!
- He's lucky.
This time we're letting
him off with a caution.
In you go, sunshine.
Next time, it will be borstal.
No. No, it's not possible. He...
He goes to grammar school.
You wicked, wicked boy!
I could kill you!
- Sorry, Mum.
- How could you?
Borstal. Borstal!
Whatever's going on?
Well?
- I see your boy came home in a police van.
- Yes.
Yes, he did. That's right.
He's been helping the police
with their investigations.
- In a Black Maria?
- Yes.
He reported some stolen
property he found in the woods.
The Chief Inspector said
he was a very clever boy.
Hmm.
Look. More scrap Anderson.
Oh, fits perfect.
We'll own all the coal soon.
They're going to nationalise it.
I bet we still have to pay for it.
Of course we'll have to pay
for it, you daft ha'p'orth.
So we won't own it then, will we?
Well, er, not exactly, but
it means the profits will go
to the government instead of
lining the pockets of the bosses.
- And then the government gives the money to us?
- No.
So what's the difference, then?
Cor. 50,000 GI brides going to
America. Kiddies with them, too.
Children? But they're not married!
Yeah, well.
I expect some of them jumped the gun a bit.
You know what they say about the
Yanks... one yank and they're down!
- What are down?
- Er, well, I don't know. It's just a saying.
Yaaay!
Blimey. There's going to
be 1,000 miles of motorway.
A terrific network.
What about the green belt?
All that lovely country?
Yeah, well, it will bypass it, I expect.
I thought you said there were going
to be lots of bypasses already.
Yeah, well, so there are. It
will bypass the bypasses, then.
And what about the ring roads?
Look, it will bypass the ring
roads and bypass the bypasses.
- And bypass the green belt?
- Yes, and bypass the green belt!
That's all right, then.
Only it does seem a bit of a muddle.
He's passed!
He's passed the school certificate.
It says he's matric...
Matriculated. Or something.
Is that good?
Well, of course it's good!
- What does it mean?
- I don't know what it means.
Not our place to know.
- Morning, Mr. Briggs.
- Lovely morning.
Whatever's the matter, dear?
He says he wants to leave the
grammar school and go to art school!
Art school?!
- Oh, blimey.
- Such a shame.
He could've gone to Oxford and Cambridge
and got a nice job in an office.
He could've been a foreman,
or even maybe a manager.
There's no money in it.
He'll never earn a living at it.
That lot's all long hair, drink and...
- nude women.
- Oh, Ernest!
It was confirmed today
that Russia has exploded
its first atomic bomb.
The test took place in a
remote area of Kazakhstan...
Russia explosion, atomic bomb.
Oh, blimey. That's been
and gawn and done it.
Ernest, do speak properly.
Dad, when you come home from work,
why don't you wash in the bathroom?
Blimey, son. I'm filthy, look.
Yes, I know, but that's
what the bathroom is for.
No, I couldn't wash in the
bathroom. Not in this state.
But this is the kitchen,
Dad. Mum cooks in it.
- Ooh-ooh!
- No, I couldn't, son.
- Not in the bathroom.
- Oh, Dad!
Hello, dear. Had a good day at college?
Oh, what's up with him?
They called it adolescence, dear.
They don't understand.
That launderette is a godsend.
I did the whole blessed lot
for 2/9 and it's all bone dry.
I could get an electric
thermostat for the tank.
Hot water in the summertime, all modern.
Electric thermostat, electric
fridge, electric milk float.
My old mum and dad never
knew the meaning of the word.
- What word, duck?
- Electric!
At home, there was nothing
electric in the whole blessed house.
We all grew up all right.
Two of you died as children, dear.
What's that got to do with electric?
Well, it's progress, Ette. Scientific.
It's scientific progress.
Blimey, what's this?
Meat ration to be cut by tuppence.
That's the lowest it's ever been and
six years after the end of the war!
We had more meat under Mr. Churchill.
Yeah, all right.
- Middle of the Blitz we had more meat.
- Yes!
- Battle of Britain...
- All right!
You can't blame Hitler now.
No!
Just your Labour Government.
- Bye, Mum!
- Bye, dear.
Have you finished your sketch?
Just look at the pair of them.
Her in black stockings
and just look at his hair!
Well, they're art students, dear.
He'll grow out of it
when he gets a proper job.
He'll never get a proper
job with hair like that!
Cor blimey.
There's a candidate here
in the general election.
Not only is she a woman, but she is 26.
I'm old enough to be her father.
And she's a Tory.
What is the world coming to?
I thought your Labour believed
in equal rights for everybody?
Well, yeah, of course, but... blimey!
She's old enough to be married,
have a baby, go to work,
drive a car, be in the
Army, fly a plane in the war.
Yeah, but...
Blimey. I'd like to see her do my job.
Oh, she doesn't want your
job. She wants to be an MP.
- She's educated.
- And I'm not, I suppose?
Well, no, you're not
educated, are you, dear?
Nor am I.
We couldn't be MPs.
- Aw!
- Oh.
Who wants to be an MP anyway, eh?
Cheese ration cut to 1oz!
Seven years after the war... 1oz.
It's not enough for a mousetrap.
There's your Tory government for you, look.
Your Mr. Churchill's cheese.
I hope you washed your hands
before touching that cheese.
It's my call-up papers.
I'm going in the Royal Corps of Signals.
Well, don't you go and get
sent to that Korean War.
Oh, that's all over, bar the shouting.
It isn't! Mrs. Hammond's boy, Michael,
was killed there only last week.
Blimey, was he?
He used to help me on the milk
round when he was a nipper.
He was just 19.
Then, when you come to attention...
Attention!
You have to slam your boot down so hard
- the blood spurts through your lace holes.
- Oh, don't, dear.
It's true, mum.
- Are you going to do parachute jumping, son?
- No.
I'm going to be a draughtsman in an office.
Oh, good. That's nice, an office.
And thank goodness you've
had a proper haircut at last.
Mrs. Morgan's boy is
going to be an officer.
- Oh, yeah?
- Don't you want to be an officer, dear?
Not likely, Mum. They want
head boys, team captains,
prefects, preferably public-school.
I'm just a common little
suburban grammar school oik.
Oh, but the uniform is so much nicer, dear.
And you could wear nice brown shoes.
Boots... they're so common.
Our very own phone.
Who'd have believed it?
Oh, dear, what shall I do
if it rings when you're out?
Well, answer it, you daft ha'p'orth!
I don't think I like it.
Argh!
Oh, quick, quick, quick,
Ernest! It's going off!
Ahem!
Hello?
Yes?
No.
Oh, right, goodbye.
Wrong number, dear.
Oh, Ernest.
It's just like the pictures.
Yes, we might get Victor McLagen.
- He's dead.
- They could still put him on.
Oh, I prefer Tyrone Power.
He's more modern.
You get it, Ernest.
Oh, blessed thing!
Fancy our little boy having a motor bike.
It's a scooter, Ette.
Lambretta. They're Italian.
He's far too young for motorbikes.
And I see it's back to
the long hair already.
Well, he's demobbed now, dear.
Cheerio, Mum! Cheerio, Dad!
- Bye, dear!
- Bye, son!
He's got three certificates now.
Yeah, but they're only art certificates.
They won't get him a job.
One is from London University.
- Yeah, I know, but...
- He can put letters after his name.
Just like a doctor.
Hello, Susie.
It says they're wanting
to legalise homosexuality.
Oh.
What's that?
Well, you know.
It's like two blokes...
only instead of with a woman,
it's sort of with one another, like.
I don't know what you're
rambling on about, Ernest,
and I don't think you do either.
I'll put the kettle on, shall I, duck?
A nice cup of tea.
Surprise, dear!
- What?
- Hey, presto!
Mind, the sun will fade my loose covers.
Look.
What?
- Do you see anything?
- No.
Nothing new, different?
No.
That green car?
Well, what about it?
Triumph Herald, it wasn't there yesterday.
There's always different cars
stuck outside our house nowadays.
Well, that one is special.
What's special about it?
It's ours!
Oh, don't be daft, Ernest.
Come on, dear. Get in.
Oh, er...
I don't like to. I've
still got my pinny on.
- And I haven't done my hair.
- Come on!
Is it really yours?
Ours, darling.
Shut the door, we'll go for a spin.
I didn't know you could drive a proper car.
Letter from Raymond.
Crumbs! The average
male manual worker earns
13, 2s and 11d a week. Blimey!
- I must be below average, then.
- Oh, it doesn't apply to you, Ernest.
You're not a manual worker.
Oh, he's going to be a teacher.
Oh, good. That's a bit more regular.
- It's in a college of art.
- That's better.
Thank God it's not just an art school.
- Part-time.
- Well, part-time is no good.
That's more for women.
One-day a week, look.
Blimey.
He gets almost as much for one day
as I get for the whole bloody week.
Ernest!
Oh, "See you on the 30th.
"I'll be bringing... Jean with me."
Here they come, Ette.
Hello, Mum. Dad.
This is Jean.
Hello, Jean.
Hello.
Hello, dear.
Oh! Look at you.
Here's a comb.
Mum, I haven't seen you for a month.
I've just brought my
future wife to meet you.
I do not want a comb!
Right then.
I'll, um... put the kettle on.
Sorry, Mum.
Oh, come and sit down, dear.
Lovely to see you.
And you too, Jane.
Jean, Mum.
I thought you'd like...
Oh, thank you, dear.
Whatever is it?
- It's a bottle of wine, Mum.
- Wine!
- Oh, dear. I don't know...
- Got a corkscrew anywhere?
Wine! Oh, dear.
- It's all right, Mum. It won't explode.
- I don't like bangs.
Oh!
- Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad.
- Cheerio, son.
I do wish you'd get a nice car, dear.
A van is cheaper, Mum.
- No purchase tax!
- But a car is so much nicer.
Bye!
- She was a nice kid, wasn't she?
- She didn't say much.
She's shy. Very shy.
Like you, sweetheart.
Hair all over the shop.
- Too tall.
- She can't help that, dear.
- She's all legs.
- Never mind her legs, Ernest.
She needs a perm and
he needs a good haircut.
Oh, no.
He says they're going to get
married in a registry office.
- Well, that's the modern way, Ette.
- Oh, it's horrible.
Yes, but neither of them is religious.
I don't want him to be religious,
I just want him to get married in a church!
It's so much nicer.
And when are you going
to start a family, dear?
Well, I don't know, really, Mum.
- Probably not at all.
- Goodness me, why ever not?
I want to be a granny.
Well, Jean's got problems, Mum.
Brain trouble.
- Brain trouble?
- Yeah.
Well, that's what I call
it, as a sort of joke.
She goes in and out of the loony bin.
You mean she's...
- She's mental?
- Yeah, well, that's one word for it.
The other word is schizophrenia.
Oh, dear.
Poor thing.
So, I won't be a granny after all.
Never mind, Mum.
What a dump.
"Dump"?!
Mum, the Government has designated this
an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.
An AONB... it's official.
Well, I still say it's a dump.
The South Downs are at
the end of the garden.
I give up, I give up.
Son, it's the sort of place
I always dreamed about.
I know, Dad.
I know.
They seem very happy down there,
despite the schizo business.
Yes, I suppose so.
I was hoping he'd send his washing home.
Oh, Et, don't be daft. He's married!
Yes, I know.
What's that?
My retirement certificate.
37 years' service with the Royal
Arsenal Co-operative Society.
I'm not sure I want that
on the front room wall.
Well, that's where it's going, Ethel.
It's one small step for man...
...one giant leap for mankind.
Cor blimey!
Man on the moon, Ette.
- Oh.
- Man on the moon.
Fantastic, eh?
What's he doing there?
Well, just walking about a bit.
And then what?
Come back, I suppose.
Perhaps they'll have a picnic.
That'd be nice.
I think the tea would blow away
when it came out of the thermos.
Why? Is it windy up there?
No, it's gravity, dear.
Oh, I see.
Look. He's going to pick up
some pebbles to take home.
Just like kiddies at the seaside.
Turn it off, will you?
Did you have a good journey, dear?
Oh, yes. OK, Mum.
Fine, fine.
Much traffic on the road?
Well, the A23 was a bit
choked up, wasn't it?
But after Sutton, it sort of
thinned out a bit and, you know...
got better.
Here's a comb, dear.
Thanks, Mum.
Remember we used to bring the pram up here?
It's me in the pram now.
They used to do nice teas in
the balcony before the war.
Waitresses in aprons and caps.
We never did go, did we, dear?
Yes. It was lovely.
The yobbos smashed all the windows.
Well, that's your Labour Party for you.
- Mr. Biggs! Mr. Briggs!
- What?
Is there a telephone? I
need to call an ambulance.
Downstairs, Doctor. Front room.
Ethel?
Why are they all staring at me?
Oh, they're not staring at
you, Mum. It's the television.
They've put it right by your bed.
I don't like them staring at me and
I don't like being in Charity Ward.
It doesn't mean charity, Mum.
It's a girl's name.
What's that music?
I can hear music.
Carols, Mum.
On the television. It's Christmas.
There's the tree, look.
Oh, I hope I'll be home
in time for Christmas.
- When is it?
- It was yesterday, Mum.
You had your presents yesterday.
Look at all your cards.
Mm? Lovely flowers.
Yes, lovely.
Aren't I a lucky girl?
Listen, dear.
Who was that old man in here just now?
Oh, Mum.
That was Dad.
Dad?
You know, Ernest?
Your husband.
My husband?
Yes.
Not Victor McLagen?
No, Mum.
I thought he was dead.
Lovely...
lovely flowers, Mum.
Oh, yes. Lovely.
Aren't I a lucky girl?
Son?
Is that you?
Yes.
The hospital, they just phoned.
- Oh, right.
- She's...
I'm going up there.
- I'll leave now.
- OK.
- I'll see you there.
- Bye, Dad.
Steady on, old son.
Steady on.
Why's she on a trolley.
I don't know, son.
Look, bloody tissues and
things right by her face.
They've put her teeth in all crooked.
I know, son.
I don't know.
I still keep laying
the table for two, duck.
Daft, isn't it, Susie puss?
Nice daffs, aren't they?
...Retailers tell the
Government they accept...
I'll get cocoa in a minute, dear.
...employers offered
to resume paying for...
Goodnight, Susie.
Argh!
Oh!
Argh!
Aargh!
Ohh!
It's OK, Susie.
I suppose I'd better get the
Salvation Army to take it all away.
I grew it from a pip.