Have a look at this mob.
(GASPS) Oh, look at the state of them.
(GASPS) Oh, they want shooting, don't they?
And to think, one of them could be living next door.
Oh, it makes you sick.
(CHEERFUL MUSIC PLAYING)
Thank God, that's over.
- (KNOCKING ON DOOR) - JAMIE: Hello, Nan!
In heres.
You've come out to see me. You've come out to see me.
You've come to fix my lamp.
No, Nan. I've come to get you.
The tenants are meeting downstairs, it's all kicking off.
- Who is it? - The tenants association.
Load of moaning old trollops.
(CACKLES)
Nan, people are going to lose their homes if we don't do something.
They'll all be turfed out.
What, so my lamp's just going to fix itself, is it?
Nan, it's not that bad. You've got three other lights.
Look, I've made muffins for the cake sale.
Oh, not this shit again...
- What are they this time? - Flaxseed and aubergine.
Flaxseed and aubergine...
Oh, you are spoiling us, ambassador.
All right, well, I'll go down while you fix my lamp.
- All right, I'll have a quick look. - Yeah.
- Oh, these ain't bad, son. - What's the matter with it, then?
I don't know, love...
- (ELECTRICITY CRACKLES) - (YELPS)
But the electrician told me not to touch it.
Ripped By mstoll
I'm afraid the rumours are true.
Pressman Developments have bought the freehold for this building
from the council.
(CROWD MUMBLING)
They're going to raise our rents, forcing us to leave
so they can turn this place in to luxury apartments.
They're sending a man called Charles Wilmott down to talk to us.
Here we are, the dream team.
It's always us lot, isn't it?
Oh, Mrs Taylor. You're here.
Yeah, sorry I'm late,
but this one was rolling around on the floor like a dog.
I've brought you some muffins.
You all right, Jamie?
Of course he's all right. I told him not to put his hands
where they're not wanted.
She's heard that before.
You all right, Peggy? You're looking well. Is that a new hat?
- Yeah! - Yeah...
God knows who's bought her that.
She's got a different feller every week.
Peggy the Tart, we used to call her.
Didn't we, Peg? We still do.
Mrs Taylor, please.
She knows! There's no judgement here, love.
I mean, good luck to you, Peg, still going strong at your age.
Mrs Taylor, if you've finished talking to my mother...
- May I continue? - Please do, love.
Nothing like listening to a whining old lesbian
to make you appreciate your life.
Well, two things. Firstly, I am not a lesbian.
And secondly, you own your flat, Mrs Taylor.
So you're not a tenant. So, this issue doesn't affect you.
No, no. We are a community. I'm here for you.
I've seen that film, Pride.
Very moving.
Now, now all you gay miners deserve a chance.
You're all right, Daphne?
Yeah.
So, we need to decide on a plan of action.
We could chain ourselves to the building.
Well, it wouldn't be the first time you've been tied up, would it, Peg?
(CACKLES)
Filth, she was!
That's a good idea, but before we attempt something that dramatic
I think we need to make some noise.
We need to get ourselves on the news.
You, on the telly?
Oh, I think you'll struggle, love.
Unless they're bringing back Prisoner. Cellblock H.
Listen, I am leader of this group...
What you need is a leader.
What did I just say?
I don't know... Something about KD Lang...
As head of the tenants association, I am the leader.
Oh, self-appointed.
And I think it's time I stood up for what's right.
And I want you out.
- We all want you out. - (MURMURING APPROVINGLY)
What?
- You can't kick me out. - Why not?
- All you ever do is make things worse. - Come on!
- You're rude. - Yeah.
- You're insensitive. - Check.
You reduce everyone to a social or sexual stereotype.
As now.
And it's time you went.
Is this cos I don't fancy you?
Now, please leave us alone so we can get something done for once.
Well, they don't want me out, do you?
If you think Mrs Taylor should leave the group, please raise your hand.
Well, that is charming, innit?
You want me out, do you, Daph?
You, you with your big pig head?
Mrs Taylor!
She's got a head like a pig, the woman.
Oh, not you an' all...
(SPEAKING MOCK VIETNAMESE)
(SPEAKING IN VIETNAMESE)
Oh, fuck you, then.
What about you, Peg? You with me?
No.
Oh, et tu, Peg?
(GASPS) After all I've done for you.
All the secrets I've kept.
I've never told anyone what a crusty old whore you are.
Jamie, you're just going to sit there and let them treat me like this?
Well...
Useless!
Well, well, good luck without me.
But you'll be sorry. You'll regret this.
You mark my words.
I am never setting foot in this dirty, pox-ridden, lesbian hideaway again.
I forgot me grandson.
You finished with my smoke alarm yet?
Nan, give me a chance. I'm still a bit shaky.
Oh, pull yourself together, you big nance.
Nan, I really think you should make peace with the neighbours.
- They could do with your help. - Oh, shut up.
Here it is. It's me programme.
Pointless.
You've seen it? Oh, I love it.
There's a giant who keeps the scores.
- He's not a giant, Nan. - Ah, marvellous, isn't it?
Remember when I was volunteering with that tribe in the Sudan?
Oh, here we go...
Well, there was a big fight in the village.
And one of the tribal elders brought everyone together. He was amazing.
He had this saying,
"You can break a coconut with an elephants' hoof,
"but you don't get to sip its milk."
Yeah, I've got a saying too, love.
"You can take an age to fix my smoke alarm,
"but you ain't coming down that fucking ladder 'til it's done."
(CACKLING)
- (KNOCKING ON DOOR) - Can you get that, Nan?
Oh, God, I've got to do everything around here.
(FARTS) Oh...
I'll tell you what, those flaxseeds will get you up.
- (KNOCKING) - Yes, all right.
I'm coming, ain't I?
(GRUNTS)
Mind yourself.
Hello. Mrs Taylor?
- Yes? - My name is Charles Wilmott.
Ah, it's not charity, is it, love?
Cos I get enough of that with this one.
He's always banging on about the orphans in Sydenham.
It was the Sudan. Nan, don't talk to him.
No, Mrs Taylor. I'm here about a business opportunity.
Oh, I'm not doing any more pyramid schemes.
I once got lumbered with having to shift 3,000 letterheads.
No, I think this is something that actually...
No-one wants gold embossed stationery with my name at the top.
I see that now.
Mrs Taylor, if you would just let me speak...
Nan, this is the man we're trying to stop.
Mrs Taylor, I'm head of acquisitions from Pressman Developments.
And I've a business proposition that I believe could make you a lot of money.
Oh, why didn't you say so?
In you go, son.
(CACKLES) Go on, go on.
You can fix my smoke alarm later.
Oh...
Careful, love. That wall's just been painted.
(CACKLES)
So...
Wilmott Brown...
It's actually Charles Wilmott.
This business opportunity you speak of...
Yes. I knew as soon as I heard about you, you were an impressive woman.
You're not like the others in this building.
- You have foresight. - I do.
- Ambition. - You're right.
- Enterprise. - Go on.
And you own your own flat.
Yes, I do. I've always been ahead of the curve.
- Take a seat. - Oh, thank you.
These... These people downstairs, these...
Lesbians.
They're getting out of hand and they want to stop us. Us!
Good, honest business people like you and me.
Did I ever tell you about my letterhead scheme?
They need placating, and they need guidance.
Which is where you come in. Why?
Because you know how these people tick.
You have their ear, they look up to you.
Yeah... I am their favourite.
I'm like a village elder.
I have this saying,
"You can milk an elephant with a coconut,
"but you can't something something hoof."
Muffin?
Thank you. I think you and I should join forces
so we can make a better world for both of us.
- Are you with me, Mrs Taylor? - I am, love.
You and me, a power couple.
Like Jackie O and KFC.
JFK.
No, thanks, darling, I've already eaten.
Oh! Flaxseed and aubergine?
Oh, the world's gone mad.
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
JAMIE: Nan, I think I've got concussion.
(CACKLES)
Remember, nice and big so people can read them.
Good afternoon.
Mrs Taylor, I thought we discussed this.
I'm not here for why you think I am here.
I am here for with my good friend Wilmott Brown
to talk to you whole lot.
It's actually Charles Wilmott.
Hello, everyone. Lovely to see you. May we take the stage?
We were actually having a private meeting...
Oh, that's all right, this won't take long.
- Mrs Tate? - Oh, thank you.
So, as you may have heard...
- (MIC FEEDBACKING) - Testing, testing, one, two, three...
I think it's fine, thank you, Mrs Taylor.
So, Pressman Developments...
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.
- Stop. - You're welcome.
Now, as you may have heard,
Pressman Developments have acquired the freehold...
You backed the council into a corner.
I can assure you it was negotiated.
You forced them into bed with the fat cats and the bankers.
Oh, she's off, again. Always in bed with someone.
I was told I was being moved to Stoke.
What a shithole.
Stoke has a warm and vibrant history.
Still very much of a shithole.
And I'm being moved to a one-bedroom flat.
Yes, see? She does love to have a waiting room as well.
- Jamie. - Oh, there he is.
The walking dead.
- I'm not talking to you, Nan. - Oh, why not, what have I done?
You know what you've done.
You turned your back on your community
and teamed up with the enemy.
Oh, that? I thought you found out about your car.
- What about my car? - Nothing.
Sorry, Joan, may I get back to the point?
Look the point is we're regenerating
and we ain't got room for the likes of you.
(GRUMBLING)
We're bringing in a new breed of residents.
The fashionistas, the Russian oligarchs, Frank Lampard.
And you lots are being moved to Stoke. Oh, good riddance.
- (CACKLES) - (PEOPLE BOOING)
It'll serve you right for chucking me out. (CACKLES)
I would like to point out these are not my words at all.
I don't agree with what Mrs Taylor is saying at all!
Start packing! (CACKLES)
Have a look. (CACKLES)
We're watching a telly programme of people watching the telly
on a telly.
I mean, we're actually watching people watching the telly,
on the telly.
BOTH: What a load of old shit.
(CACKLES)
Oh, we have a laugh, don't we?
- Yeah. - Me and you.
We're just like that gay couple.
(LAUGHS)
Laughing and laughing,
watching the telly, eating muffins.
Yeah...
So, Joan, do you mind if we walk about the contracts, now?
Here, love, have the last muffin.
- Oh, no, you have it. - No, go on, darling.
- It's your last muffin. - Oh, no, I couldn't.
Go on, you'll enjoy that. It's the last one.
Oh, well, if you insist.
What, you're taking the last muffin?
- Yeah, well, they're very good. - Yeah. Oh, you're having it, are you?
Yes, thank you.
- Mmm. - There.
Yeah, you'll...
You'll enjoy that, won't you?
The last muffin...
Tastes nice, doesn't it?
It will do, won't it? What with being the last one.
That last muffin...
(SCOFFS) What a fucking liberty!
(LOUDLY) He ate the last muffin of mine,
"Would you like the last muffin?" "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly."
Then he's turned around and eaten the last fucking muffin!
Dirty, fucking, muffin-guzzling bastard.
(QUIETLY) Do you want a cup of tea, love?
No, I think I'm fine.
I think it's time to go over the contracts, though.
I do need you to sign them.
What's that, darling?
Well, it's what we've been discussing.
It's what we've discussed for days now, the sale of your flat.
Oh, I ain't selling my flat.
Mrs Taylor, we've been through this.
With the money you make from the sale, you can move somewhere nice.
- You did say... - Did I?
Well, between Pointless and Gogglebox, I'm barely conscious.
But you must realise you can't stay here.
Why not, love? This is where I live.
And with that mob gone, we'll be laughing.
I don't think you understand.
It's not just the building we're improving, it's the clientele.
Oh, I know, darling.
I can't wait to meet me new neighbours.
Vorderman, Sugar, Manilow.
Whoever it was who won The Voice.
But, Mrs Taylor, you won't be here.
Oh, yes I will, darling, and I shall fit right in.
Now, pack it up because the posh drunks are on.
Mrs Taylor, I've done everything you've asked of me.
I fixed your lamp, I fixed your smoke alarm,
I spent three days looking for your remote, which it turns out
you left in the fridge.
(CACKLES)
All I asked of you was to help me.
And all you did was mess everything up.
Now take the cheque and sign the contract.
But... But why can't I stay?
Because my clients don't want to see a throwback old cockney washerwoman
cluttering up their new luxury apartments.
Now, take the money and piss off.
Well, well, well.
Wilmott Brown.
You've shown your true colours, haven't you, son?
I didn't like you when you ran The Dagmar,
and I don't like you now.
And if you think I can be bought
with your dirty corporate money, you can think again.
Now get out of my flat.
Because the little ladies are about to watch Poldark.
(FARTS)
And if I am not very much mistaken, I've just ponied meself.
Come on, people. We can't lose momentum now.
The fight to save the estate is officially on.
- (CHEERING) - We have 10,000 names on the petition.
And we are marching on Westminster tomorrow morning.
(CHEERING)
Here she is!
She's come over to see ya...
She's come to save the day.
How dare you show your face in here, you self-serving, nasty,
poisonous old witch?
No need to apologise.
- We're all friends here. - Right, everyone, just ignore her.
I can't believe what I'm seeing. Where's your fight?
It's time you stood up for yourselves.
We are.
Do you mind, I'm speaking.
I say we get a petition signed and march to Westminster.
We're already going to Westminster!
See, that's impressive. I've only just suggested that.
See what happens when I take the lead?
I cannot express how much we don't need you.
Well, you might change your mind when I tell you the secret information
- I have managed to purloin. - What's that, then?
Wilmott Brown is moving you all to Stoke.
I told you that!
And I'll be addressing that this evening when I appear on Newsnight.
What? You can't go on Newsnight.
- Why not? - Oh...
Because of this.
And this. But mainly this.
Mrs Taylor, please.
You need me out there with you, love?
I mean no disrespect sweetheart,
but you've got a face like a ruptured arse.
I think I'll do perfectly well without you.
Yeah, I hear what you're saying. We'll both go.
No, it'll just be me.
Just me and you. Understood.
- Stop it. - I like your shoes.
- Why are you suddenly interested? - Because I care.
About each and every one of you.
- No, you don't. - No, I don't.
But Wilmott Brown ate my last muffin, and now I'm going to destroy him.
Oh, please, go away.
Come on, then, off we go. Come on, everyone together.
Peggy, try not to boff anyone before you get there.
There is now way you are coming with me on Newsnight.
With my looks and your shoes, we'll take this town by storm.
- You are not coming. - Shall I wear the shoes?
Tonight, on Newsnight,
residents from a council block in east London who are fighting back
against what they call social cleansing.
We're joined by Charles Wilmott for Pressman Developments,
and Lorna Finch and Joan Taylor, the heads of the tenants association
for Mason House.
Head. Head of the association.
OK. Let's start with you.
Uh, Mrs Finch.
Oh, it's Miss Natch.
- May I speak freely? - Yes, do, do.
You look a lot different in the flesh, Paxo.
Can I call you Paxo, Paxo?
(CACKLES) You've had a bit of work done?
What's happened to your eyes? What's happened to your ears?
Actually, I'm not Jeremy Paxman.
- It's Evan Davis. - What, from the Dragons' Den?
Blimey, you landed on your feet, ain't you?
Look, may I speak?
I don't know how you've got the nerve, after what you did to Kathy Beale.
Yes. Thank you, Mrs Taylor.
Please, please. Can we just try and stay on the topic?
Look, the issue, as far as I'm concerned
is about progress and people's fear of it.
No, the issue is about fairness and choice.
Shh! Love, I don't think they speak lesbian on the telly.
Now, that is offensive. We're not having any of that.
Shag.
Much prefer Paxo.
Mr Wilmott, the charges that have been levelled against your company
are pretty serious.
All right, Duncan Bannatyne, I'll deal with this.
We can all run a leisure centre.
But this is Newsnight, love. I know how this works.
Wilmott Brown...
- Not my name. - Just one question.
Did you take my last muffin?
Excuse me?
Did you take my last muffin, Wilmott Brown?
I'm sorry, is that your actual question?
Did you take my last muffin?
- Look... - A simple yes or no.
Did you take my last muffin?
- Can we just stay on topic... - Answer the question, Wilmott Brown.
Did you take my last muffin?
- It's not about whether I did or... - Did you take my last muffin?
Look, I think the real question is...
Did you or did you not take my last muffin?
- Mrs Taylor... - Did you take my last muffin?
Did you take my last muffin?
- Fine. Yes, I took your last muffin. - And that is how it's done.
Time for the weather.
OK, I think maybe it's time we gave Miss Finch and Mr Wilmott
a bit of a chance to have their say.
Oh, right, well, suit yourself.
Mr Wilmott, none of the tenants were offered any say
in where they would be relocated.
Well, that is basically not true.
You were all sent detailed letters explaining all of your options.
A lack of options.
Well, if you can afford the rent, then nothing has to change.
New batch.
But, Mr Wilmott, the danger is you talk of progress
while ignoring all the people who it negatively impacts.
Exactly, Evan. We're being moved around like cattle
while his company profits from it.
You make it sound like we're throwing you out on the street.
Oh, that is delicious.
Look, as far as we're concerned this came out of nowhere.
Right. Look around you.
You are living in one of the richest boroughs in London.
Moist and delicious.
And your building doesn't reflect that.
- Moist with still a bit of a bite. - But Mr...
Mr Wilmott, that doesn't automatically mean the homes have to follow suit,
does it?
I won't be a minute.
This is the sort of cold-hearted ruthlessness I'm talking about.
No, it's not ruthless. It's realistic.
It's injustice.
(NAN FARTING)
(CONTINUES FARTING)
Oh... That was one I didn't want.
There is, of course, the very real issue of the locals,
who can now no longer afford to live in their own area.
Exactly, Evan.
We can all pretend there's such a thing as a free market, but...
We can also pretend that...
But money isn't important...
God, blimey, crack a window, someone.
She's poisoning me.
Well, thank you all so much for coming in.
Don't worry, love, they'll edit you out.
Well, that's the end of the road.
We did what we could, it wasn't enough.
- I'm sorry. - Aye-aye!
There she is, victorious.
Autographs later.
Victorious? Have you lost your mind?
- You've absolutely annihilated us. - Has I?
Any ounce of credibility we had is gone.
The campaign is dead in the water, we're a laughing stock.
Oh, that's a bit harsh.
You farted on Newsnight.
For 11 seconds.
That could have been any one of us.
Well, I for one, would certainly like to thank you, Joan.
Now, what are you doing here? Come to gloat?
No, not at all. I'm very grateful for what you did.
Thanks to Joan here you now have one month to vacate your premises.
Government approved.
Oh...
Still, be that as it may,
are we all agreed it is in very bad form to take the last muffin.
No-one cares, Nan.
Do you not get this? We have lost our homes.
Oh, where's your fight? This ain't over.
Have I got to do everything myself?
I hope you're pleased with yourself, Mr Wilmott.
You don't know the meaning of the word "Community".
Community?
You people wear that word like a medal.
Like it means something.
It means we're good, honest, hardworking people.
We support each other, no matter what our sexual orientation.
Be we straight, lesbian,
Vietnamese, head like a pig, or prostitute.
Decent people who are prepared to fight to the end.
- (ALL MURMURING IN AGREEMENT) - No.
Layabouts. Abandoners. Scum.
Well, I must admit I do agree to a certain extent.
But nonetheless, it's time for action,
and you will see us united in chains, rather than give up our homes.
- Right? - Right!
Oh, spare me the salt-of-the-earth, we-take-care-of-our-own bit.
Cos I know you don't.
And nothing makes me happier than to see the people who abandoned me
get what they deserve.
Well, look, these are a mess.
What do you mean, "abandoned"?
Well, if you must know, I was born right here on this estate.
I wasn't raised here because, well, my mother didn't want me.
That's the proud, upstanding community you're talking about.
What a load of old shit.
- So, did you ever find your mother? - No, don't even know her name.
All I do know is that she's a selfish, heartless,
inconsiderate monster.
Oh, and she had red hair.
I mean, I won't let them beat me.
Hold on a minute. So your mum was a nasty, selfish, abandoning woman,
who lived on this estate and had red hair?
What?
- Mum? - Oh, don't look at me, love.
Mine was out of a bottle.
Son?
Mum?
Peggy?
Mum?
Of course it's Peggy, her knees ain't touched since 1952.
I am so sorry, son.
It broke my heart to give you up,
but you were born in a brothel. Them's the rules.
You don't know how long I've waited to hear those words.
(GROANS)
Well, I can't believe this. I don't know what to say.
Well, what I do know is nobody is going to Stoke.
Not on my watch.
- (ALL MURMURING) - We can all stay here.
- (CHEERING) - I did it.
I've saved the estate.
Come on, let's have a knees up.
Wilmott Brown, do the honours, son.
(PIANO PLAYING)
ALL: ♪ Knees up Wilmott Brown, Knees up Wilmott Brown
♪ Under the table you must go Ee-aye, ee-aye, ee-aye-oh ♪
I've locked it!
Go and get the key! There's a fucking key somewhere.
(SINGING CONTINUES)
Ain't this nice, eh?
You're all right, Jamie?
(MUFFLED)
'Ere, Lorna, you could have brought one of your lesbian mates up here,
you know, love.
- I don't mind. - I'm not a lesbian.
I don't know why you're so defensive, darling.
I mean, we were all at it during the war.
- You had to. - Well, I must say I'm surprised.
Oh, yeah. Me and Maggie Griffith, we were the first around here.
And it wasn't as accepted, you know, like it is nowadays.
They used to shout at us in the streets,
"Look out, the lesbians are there!"
Not Lesbians. Vegans.
I must say, Joan, you've shown a lot of character this week.
Oh? How's that, darling?
Well, there's not many people who've torn up a cheque
without even looking at it.
When did I do that?
When you turned down the 1.8 million.
How much?
1.8 million, that's how much the cheque was for your flat.
1.8 million...
1.8 fucking million...
I'd tear the place down with me own bare hands for 1.8 fucking million...
Ripped By mstoll