I'm sorry. I'm being a prat.
- What do you look like?
- I had to have a drink.

- It's how you got in with them.
- I hope it was worth it.

It went like a dream. Flying I am, Marie.
I'm on Drugs or Vice after this, I tell you.
How does "DS Brandon" sound?
A lot better than "where's my effing tea!"
It's so bloody lovely to come home to you.
Fucking day it was...
- The usual, boys?
- Lynda.

What's been happening
in my own boozer? I'm a stranger.

Sorry, Bob. You don't know
John and Trev, do you?

- No, I don't.
- They do up houses.

- Bob's been on holiday.
- Bollocks, I've been inside.

What houses? Here they
knock them down, not do them up.

Down the docks. Being tarted up a treat.
Uncle Bob's a big softie
when you got to know him.

Uncle Bob? Stone me, Lynda,
there's not much family resemblance.

I'm heiress to a pub, mate. You watch yourself.
He's got a wobbler on.
First day out, he invests in
some chairs and tables for outside

and someone's had them off.
What's he like when it's something serious?
(MARIE): There's nothing wrong with
large families, if that's what you want.

I'd like another two. We need
a bigger place, don't we, Eddie?

- It's not the time to look for houses.
- When is?

Either the house is too small
Or the mortgage is too big.

- I'm happy where I am.
- Yeah.