Good Bye Lenin!

Morning, Mum.
Morning, Alex.
Are you in a hurry? - I have to go to work.
Alex, please remember the TV. - Let's talk about that later.
Alex, please remember the TV. - Let's talk about that later.
Oh and about my birthday. Invite Klapprath and perhaps a few pupils.
As if the fucking gherkins weren't enough trouble already. Now she wants to watch TV.
What should I do? - Yeah, Houston. We got a problem.
Yeah, and now? - I thought you might have an idea. No, I meant the picture.
Now? - Nope.
It didn't work very long. - Semi-finale! I'll just go over to the Pollnicks.
Then go already.
Excuse me. Are those gherkins from the Spreewood?
Nope, from the Netherlands.
Just show her something old. - What do you mean?
Old East-TV stuff on video tape.
News from last year? She'll notice for sure.
Ah, I don't think so. It was always the same rubbish. - Where should I get the videos from?
I haven't even got a recorder. - Bad enough.
What's the score?
What's the score?
Beckenbauer, Rudi Völler... You don't want to see it...
Germany made it into the finale!
While the world time clock at the Alexander Square rushed towards mother's birthday,
a tiny round ball united the social development...
of the split nation and let things, that belonged together, grow together.
I slaved away like a Hero of Labour to resurrect the GDR in every detail
in mother's room until this day.
Have the cross-word puzzles already been solved? - Untouched like a virgin.
Great. I'll take them all.