MUSIC: Gloria by Laura Branigan
♪ Gloria ♪
♪ You're always on the run now ♪
♪ Running after somebody ♪
♪ You gotta get him somehow ♪
♪ I think you've got to slow down ♪
♪ Before you start to blow it ♪
♪ I think you're headed for a breakdown ♪
♪ So be careful not to show it ♪
♪ You really don't remember? ♪
♪ Was it something that he said? ♪
♪ All the voices in your head ♪
- ♪ Calling Gloria ♪ - _
- ♪ Gloria... ♪ - All right, Vincent?
Never fucking better, Pete.
♪ Don't you think you're fallin'? ♪
- ♪ If everybody wants you... ♪ - He knows.
♪ Why isn't anybody callin'? ♪
♪ You don't have to answer ♪
♪ Leave 'em hangin' on the line... ♪
Excluding the literal sense,
there are three types of wanker in this world.
♪ Gloria... ♪
There's the ones you pity, the sad, boring type of wanker
who life always seems to enjoy torturing.
Not me.
♪ Gloria... ♪
- (HE BEEPS HORN) - See you later, Pete!
Then there's the irritating types of wanker,
the ones whose only job in life is to stop the rest of us
enjoying our three score years and ten.
Again, not me.
Excuse me, you can't park there, mate.
Finally, you have the show-offs.
The posers.
The "I'm better than you,
"fuck everything and everyone twice," type of wankers.
I prefer the term "ambitious", but whatever the label,
we're the ones you'd better keep your eyes on.
♪ Gloria... ♪
Good morning, arseholes!
♪ Gloria! ♪
Sync & corrections by emeline-whovian www.addic7ed.com
Full disclosure.
You're looking at a room of double-glazing salesmen.
As this is 1983, we're not quite the social pariahs you lot
probably know and loathe, but give us time.
This is the Monday morning sales meeting,
where the team hand in their weekly orders.
In theory, a small matter of financial housekeeping.
In reality,
a dick-swinging contest extraordinaire.
Right, Fitzpatrick, what you got for me?
Oh, fuck off, I went first last week.
Come on, it's Lavatory's turn.
Don't call me that.
All right, calm down, Lavatory, it's only a nickname.
No, a nickname is an affectionate term between mates.
I think you're a massive prick,
ergo not a nickname.
Yeah, well, I'll show you a massive prick.
This reprobate is Brian Fitzpatrick.
In life, deeply unlikeable, smarmy and charmless.
But give him something to sell,
and somehow, he becomes transformed.
Strong?
President Reagan has a fallout shelter
made entirely of our windows.
Now, the science tells us these uPVC window frames will be around
long after the human race is extinct.
Also, the proud owner of a massive penis
which he loves to unfurl at any given opportunity.
And that's fine, is it?
And this lovely man is Martin Lavender.
Honest, decent and well educated.
All qualities which, in our line of work,
are about as much use as an aerated condom.
Hello, I'm Martin Lavender from Cachet Windows.
Just eating dinner.
No, you have your dinner. I'll call back another day.
Thanks, love.
Formerly a musician,
he quit his struggling band to join my sales team.
♪ Let me guess what's on your mind ♪
♪ That's all right cos it's on mine... ♪
Unfortunately, three months later, his now ex-band landed
the biggest number one single of the year with Wherever I Lay My Hat.
♪ Wherever I lay my hat ♪
♪ That's my home... ♪
Naturally, we rallied around
to help him through this difficult period.
(MUSIC CONTINUES)
(LAUGHTER)
Hey!
Unlucky, mate, could've been you!
Right, come on, look, I want to see some orders.
Don't be shy, Lavender.
Yeah, his mother wasn't.
- Four. - Bollocks!
4,000. That's got to be a personal best for you, innit?
Could've been seven if this snake hadn't undercut me on Warren Close.
You're having a laugh.
There's nothing wrong with my prices, it's just you.
You couldn't sell ice to a bloody Eskimo.
But Eskimos don't need ice. Why would I sell it to them?
Well, you know, cos of the saying,
"He could sell ice to the Eskimos."
You're the fucking opposite, ain't ya?
Yeah, that's not how opposites work.
I get a lot of this.
All right, then, you couldn't sell food to a starving Ethiopian
with flies round his eyes and pot belly... shit up his legs.
I'd just give him some food.
I'm not a monster.
Which is why I will always outsell you in any sales environment.
So you reckon you could sell ice to the Eskimos?
Not only sell it to them.
By the time I'd left their little igloo,
they'd be asking me to be godfather to their adorable slanty-eyed kids.
Tell me, is it only lazy cultural stereotypes you sell to,
or real people, too?
Well, unlike Professor No Nuts over there,
I could sell anything to anyone.
So, taking the ice and Eskimos analogy, you reckon you could
sell new windows to someone you've recently sold new windows to?
Yes.
I've got a ton says you can't.
You had a ton.
You might as well hand over those notes now, Lavatory.
Right, if you bucks are done rutting,
I want to see some orders. Brian?
13 five.
- (HE WHISTLES) - Impressive.
Who'd have thought a weaselly fucker with terrible BO like you
could charm the life savings out of anyone?
Huh.
Well, here's mine.
Just the 17K.
Which makes me employee of the fucking century.
But don't feel too bad about it, boys,
it's still a record week.
And to celebrate, I've lined up a special treat for us all
on Saturday night.
Now, let's get out there.
These windows aren't going to sell them-fucking-selves.
- Morning, Vincent. - Morning, Carol.
Can you dig out the address for the Solomon house?
I've got time to pop by later...
Guess who...?
The last time I saw these beautiful fingers,
they were wrapped around my...
- ..has got the kids with them. - ..my neck.
They were wrapped around my neck.
My fault for farting in bed, eh, Sam?
That's not what you were going to say.
- What was he going to say? - Nothing.
Go and play outside.
Go on, I want a word with your dad.
Hello, baby.
Oh, I know.
Incredible, isn't she?
What's up?
I thought Cachet's number one salesman might like some lunch.
It's only cheese,
but I swiped a Penguin from Robbie's school dinner tin as a little treat.
I do not deserve an angel like you in my life.
I know.
So what time you home tonight? I'm doing a curry.
Can't do tonight. I've got house calls to make.
You are joking? This is the third night this week.
Sam, honey. The best time to close a deal
is when the husband and wife are both there.
Evenings, weekends, these are the golden hours.
And when do you plan fitting us into your hectic schedule, then?
Christmas? Bank holidays?
I'm trying to build something for us here.
In a few months, I'll ease off, but not right now.
I'll make it up to you, gorgeous. I promise.
_
You realise there is no part of this I cannot see?
What are you doing?
Don't worry. I'm obviously not wanted here.
Sam. Come back. Sam, come back...
Ignore her, she's mental!
"Thanks for rescuing me, Carol," might be nice.
Meanwhile, it hadn't taken Fitzpatrick long
to find a 73-year-old Eskimo to sell ice to.
But you only put these windows in three weeks ago.
I know, Mrs Brown. I'm embarrassed to be here.
But it's only just come to light that there is a major design flaw
in the plastic frames of those windows
that no-one could have foreseen.
- The white bits? - Yeah, the white bits.
See, they're made from a plastic compound
called unplasticised polyvinyl chloride,
or uPVC for short.
We've only just discovered that when exposed to sunlight,
that type of plastic might explode.
- Oh, no. - Oh, no, indeed.
But it's not all bad news.
Have you heard of Nasa?
The space people?
They're the ones.
Now, as part of the space shuttle programme,
they've developed a far superior plastic compound,
one that won't kill you.
Does it have a name?
Yep, it's called...
PVCu.
So, what I would like to do is exchange these dangerous
uPVC windows for nice, new, safe PVCu ones, free of charge,
apart from installation costs.
Oh, I don't know.
I should probably ask my son about that.
Is your son Neil Armstrong?
No.
Then I don't think he's qualified to help us.
MUSIC: I've Seen That Face Before (Libertango) by Grace Jones
- Read it and weep. - Ugh.
The whole house?
How have you done that?
You know. Sales acumen, charm.
Oh, no, wait. You don't know, do you?
Now, come on, you owe me a ton.
Yeah, hold on, you've only charged her 100 quid for fitting.
Have you given her a house full of free windows just to win a bet?
Lavatory. The word "free" is not in my vocabulary.
Just like the phrase "I've had a number one hit" is not in yours.
No, I've got a fitter coming tomorrow to rip out those windows
and pop the very same ones straight back in again.
The old bag'll never know.
So not only have I sold ice to the Eskimos,
I've sold them their own fucking ice.
I'm a genius! Come on, pay up.
♪ Strange, I've seen that face before... ♪
Oh, yes, there we go. Oh, nom, nom, nom!
Unlike Fitzpatrick, I don't need to use the dark arts to close a deal.
♪ Seen him hanging round my door. ♪
(HE RINGS DOORBELL)
Good morning, Mr Solomon. Vincent from Cachet Windows,
we spoke on the phone earlier.
Ah, Mr Vincent, yes.
Look, I'm so sorry,
but we're about to sit down for prayer.
Maybe you can leave some brochures
and we can phone you about prices tomorrow?
Want to know the percentage of people who sleep on it and call you back?
A big fat fucking zero.
This may sound odd, but may I join?
It's been a spiritually exhausting last few days for me.
Er... We'd be delighted. Come in.
One more thing, salesmen are like vampires.
Never invite one into your home.
Once you do, we won't leave your side until we taste blood.
Not even for a piss.
- Thank you! - No problem!
The peace of God...
Using the homeowner's loo is a cardinal sin,
no matter how desperate you are.
The second you leave those poor bastards alone,
they'll try to conspire a way to get you out of their house.
You need to get the kids to bed? That's OK.
I'll give you a hand with bath time.
Your husband is having a heart attack?
Let me run you both down to A&E,
you lying shitbags.
These God-fearing fuckers have been praying for almost two hours.
And it's not just world peace shit, either.
Lord, please use thy divine power
to find a good cash buyer for Brian and Kellie's car.
Dear merciful Lord, please do what you can
to get a better reception for Aggy's TV.
Dear Lord, please give me the strength not to piss my pants
in front of these time-wasting sons of bitches.
Eventually, my bladder's prayers were answered
and Mr Solomon signed for a full house of windows.
It's safe to say I eat, sleep, breathe, shit and piss...
(HE GROANS) ..sales.
But like Einstein, my true genius wasn't spotted until later in life.
- ♪ Hit me with your rhythm stick ♪ - _
♪ Hit me, hit me... ♪
So, after spending a couple of grand
having this fucking mutt's back legs amputated and wheels put on it,
he takes it out for its first walk, and the fucking dog panics,
and rolls straight under a bus.
Poor bastard is devastated.
I told him, "Look on the bright side.
"At least now, you've got a £2,000 rug."
(LAUGHTER)
(PHONE RINGS)
♪ Hit me, hit me... ♪
Yeah, this is him.
Fuck.
Now, that was a call informing me that while I'd been otherwise engaged,
a supertanker on the Thames estuary
had been accidently loaded with contaminated crude oil.
Unfortunately, the constant monitoring required
to prevent such million-pound fuck-ups
was my one and only job.
Upon careful reflection,
you are to be relieved of all duties with immediate effect.
Do you have anything to say for the record, Mr Swan?
This is fucking ridiculous...
Maybe we should take a break.
Listen, I've spoken to the boys.
They're ready to walk out for you on this one, Vince.
I appreciate the support of the union on this, Terry.
But I'm jacking it in.
I fucking hate this job anyway.
How else are you going to provide for Sam and the kids? Hm?
I'll figure something out.
Oi, you two, the charisma twins.
Upon careful reflection,
I've decided you can stick your job up your arses.
Here's my notice of resignation.
MUSIC: Abracadabra by the Steve Miller Band
I couldn't face going home to tell Sam I'd lost my job.
I said I'd figure something out,
and that's what I intended to do...
right after I got absolutely rat-arsed.
♪ I heat up ♪
♪ I can't cool down. ♪
(HE RETCHES)
I never was a whisky drinker.
Fuck me. Vincent Swan.
Dicky Cox?
Dicky Dipshit, I think you used to call me at school.
Cox by name, cock by nature.
Yeah, that was another one.
You all right, Vince? You look like shit.
No. No, I'm not all right, Dicky.
I got sacked this morning,
and now I'm crying next to a urinal full of my own puke,
talking to you.
No offence, but I think I just hit rock-bottom.
(DICKY LAUGHS)
I mean, it's funny how life turns out, innit?
Who'd have put money on me being the bloody successful one
and you, Vincent Swan, being such a fucking loser?
(DICKY LAUGHS)
Cheers for the pep talk, Coxy(!)
Yeah.
Vincent, what would you say
if I told you I earned four times as much as your monthly wage
in the last week?
I'd say, "Unless the demand for creepy-looking gigolos
"has gone through the roof, that's bollocks."
Yeah, funny.
Here.
Have a chuckle at that.
_
Plus, I've got something else that could interest you.
What I've got in here might just change your life.
(HE SNIFFS)
I'm not a complete fucking yokel, I've done coke before.
(DICKY SNORTS)
I'm not talking about the drugs.
(VINCENT SNORTS)
What, a lump of fucking plastic?
Is it?
Or is it white gold?
(HE SNIFFS)
No, it's definitely a lump of plastic.
To the uninitiated.
But you add some know-how and some bullshit, and this lump
of fucking plastic turns into something far more eye-catching.
Coxy laid out the double-glazing business for me.
Since Thatcher handed us the right to buy your council house,
the world and his wife were madly renovating
their newly owned dream homes.
White gold was just plastic, a cheap alternative to timber,
but it brought the cost of making brand-new windows down to peanuts.
Coxy would then sell them on with a 600% mark-up.
For those that couldn't afford the astronomical prices,
he'd sell them finance.
That way, they could pay back
what they thought they could afford each month...
for the rest of their natural lives.
Eventually, those shiny new windows would cost more
than their dreary former council houses.
It was beautiful.
I want this.
You can have it.
No, not this!
I mean, meeting you. Losing my job. Everything.
It's happened for a reason.
You ain't going to cry again, are you?
You always were a fucking dipshit.
(DICKY LAUGHS)
MUSIC: Out Of Touch by Hall and Oates
My fate was sealed the very next day.
I'm not a big believer in kismet, but you'd have to be blind,
deaf and dumb as shit not to hear destiny calling me.
Sorry to interrupt.
Oh, it's an elephant.
It's not male genitalia.
I'm looking for the owner.
Oh, sorry, I'm new here.
Right. Is the owner around?
Like I said, I'm new, so I literally can't help you.
Fuck me, Carol. You're a receptionist.
Just take some details, will you?
Well, it doesn't hurt to be careful, Tony.
He just wandered in off the street.
This is a fucking showroom!
We want people to wander in off the street.
Hello, sir. I take it this is your business?
You've got two minutes, pal.
For what?
To sell me whatever the fuck it is you're selling, then fuck off.
Meet Tony Walsh, the world's angriest small business owner.
No, I don't want to sell TO you, I want to sell FOR you.
My name's Vincent.
I don't care if it's Barbra Streisand.
I've already got a sales team.
Well, that was succinct.
Now we've got 90 seconds to fill with small talk.
Or you could just fuck off early.
Right. And where's the fun in that?
You see that couple? They walked into your showroom four minutes ago.
In another 45 seconds, they're going to walk out,
along with thousands in lost revenue.
I've got 20 quid that says Tweedledum and Tweedledee over there
will still be scratching their arses when they walk out.
Huh?
All right, pal.
Here's a price list.
You sign them up, I'll give you a two-week trial.
I hear congratulations are in order!
Erm, sorry?
The centennial customer award? Oh, wait, no-one told you?
As our hundredth customer today,
you've won the opportunity to turn your house into a show-home
for the Cachet range of windows and doors.
My name's Vincent, nice to meet you.
Hi, I'm Mark. This is my wife, Lorna.
Hello. Wow, we've never won anything before.
Well, I guess some people are born lucky,
and the rest of us just have to make do with good looks and charm, eh?
So, tell me, Mark, Lorna, why are you looking for new windows?
Ten minutes of bullshit later, and I was ready to seal the deal.
All of our products come with safety glass fitted as standard.
Now, I'd imagine those little boys of yours
are always keeping you on your toes, right, Lorna?
Always darting about?
Now, imagine them running full pelt into a plate glass window.
(THEY SHRIEK)
It turned out that not ALL of our products
came with safety glass fitted as standard.
It's probably, er, hard, at this point, not to picture
your precious offspring lying in a pool of their own blood.
But hold on to that thought, because this, Lorna, pardon my French,
this DISGRACEFUL piece of shit
is a well-known national company's patio door.
I can't say who. WHISPERS: Everest.
Christ, it makes me angry.
Can't anyone ever think of the children?
Well, thankfully, here at Cachet, we do.
MUSIC: Steppin' Out by Joe Jackson
Maybe it was the adrenaline in everybody's systems,
but by the time I'd finished with them,
they'd signed for five grand's worth of windows.
The second I left the showroom, Walshy called his wife.
I think I've just met the man who's going to make us our first million.
He was so impressed, he didn't offer me a trial,
he put me in charge of his entire sales team.
Who I promptly sacked.
Tweedledee and Tweedledum went out the door,
and in came Tweedle Dumb and Dumber.
And after Fitzpatrick and Lavender graduated from the
Vincent Swan School of Sales, my team was complete.
Once Walsh's tasteless decor had been replaced
for something more befitting of a classy operation like ours,
Cachet Windows was reborn.
Right!
First and only rule, we don't rip off anyone in our town.
These are our neighbours, our friends.
We always sell our windows at one price,
a fair price.
Sometimes over, sometimes under, but always at one price.
Sorry, so who pays more?
Dickheads. The terminally stupid.
And less?
Well, no-one, if we can help it.
So it's not really one price for all, is it?
No.
But it sounds good, don't it?
And that pretty much brings us up to speed.
(HE RINGS DOORBELL)
Want to know the greatest thing about winning at life?
It's that you get to give a little something back.
- Hello, Vince. - Terry. How's tricks?
Yeah, good, you coming in?
Look, I really appreciate the offer, mate, but...
Double-glazing salesman?
I mean, no offence, but it's not really me, is it?
Why not?
I know the refinery's not everyone's cup of tea, but it's steady,
the pension's good, it's practically impossible to get sacked.
Yeah, maybe for mere mortals.
Hello, stranger.
Evening, Gillian.
At last, the brains of the house have arrived.
I'd better run, I'm on nights.
You'll have to bring the family over for a barbecue soon, Vince.
Yeah, they'd love that, mate.
- Bye, love. - Ta, darling.
Try not to masturbate through your entire shift.
Someone's got to sit in that chair after you.
You're not running out on me too, are you, Vincent?
It's been ages since we've had a little gossip.
Would I ever? Stick the kettle on.
So, er, Terry said you're a salesman now.
Yeah, I finally found a job where being
a self-aggrandising ponce is considered a plus.
So, what is it you sell?
Double glazing.
Fancy. I quite like them patio doors.
I bet they're expensive, though.
You'd be surprised, Gillian.
I know this looks bad, but those patio doors
are going to completely revolutionise the flow
from their downstairs to their garden.
What? This is what I do.
Cachet Windows and Doors.
It's Brendan for you.
Just tell him I've nipped out.
Hang on a minute, he's just here, Brendan.
Hello, Brendan.
Yeah... But they're the same fucking ones...
No. Look, I'm coming over.
I told you to tell him I'd nipped out.
I don't know what that means.
Is it an Essex thing?
Oi. What the hell's this, Vincent?
I'm about 90% sure that's an order for patio doors, Terry.
Am I right? Do you want to talk about this out back?
- Do excuse me for a moment. - No, I'm not stopping.
I just came to tell you we don't want your shitty windows.
Well, maybe you should talk to your wife once in a while,
because she seemed positively thrilled by the idea.
And they're precision engineered, not shitty.
Now if that's all, I'm busy with customers.
No, no, don't you try and worm your way out of it.
You took advantage of Gill.
I don't know if you've realised, mate, but Gill's a grown woman now,
with tits and everything.
And this, this is a contract. It's legally binding.
So I suggest you go home and take it up...
Now you stay away from me, my wife and my windows, you utter scumbag.
Fuck.
Sorry.
Sometimes working here is like being in a really shit version of Dallas.
(DOORBELL RINGS)
Vincent, look he's not here.
He's on a shift.
Yeah, I know. Look, I came to say sorry.
I'm not going to make you honour the contract.
We all right?
Yeah.
Good, because while I've been standing here freezing my nuts off,
I couldn't help thinking this conversation would have been
much more comfortable in a beautiful double-glazed porch.
You always did know how to make me laugh, Vincent Swan.
Interesting place for a personalised number plate.
I quite like it.
Fancy a spin?
Ooh, yeah. I've never been in a wanker-mobile before.
I'll get me coat.
Like I told you, page one of the training manual.
Never leave the house without closing the deal.
♪ Good times ♪
♪ These are the good times ♪
♪ Leave your cares behind. ♪
Hmm, yes, it's tricky to see the difference myself.
What exactly is it you don't like, Mrs Brown?
They remind me of death.
I want my old new windows back.
Right, well, I could get Brendan to re-fit the old ones,
but, I mean, then you'll be paying to replace these with an identical
and frankly inferior product.
I'm going to call my son, you can talk to him about it.
No, no, no, don't do that, Mrs Brown.
I tell you what, I'll get Brendan to replace the windows for free.
I'm sure he won't mind.
You're a lovely young man, Brian.
Yes, he will fucking mind. I've got another job on.
Look, how do I get this through that thick Paddy skull of yours?
You're not going to get paid for this job unless that senile bitch is happy.
So whoever's driveway you've got to tarmac can fucking wait. Comprende?
You listen to me, you ferrety-looking cunt.
You speak to me like that again,
I'll refit your disgusting yellow teeth. Comprende?
Yes, completely comprende.
Can you please refit the windows, Brendan?
Please?
Yes, I will, Brian.
And seeing as you asked me so nicely
I'm only going to charge you double time for today.
Oh, you're fucking joking... Yeah. No.
Double bubble. Excellent.
Looks like the Eskimos aren't that keen on your ice after all.
- Fuck off. - Oh, come on, be nice.
Where's that famous charm gone? My winnings, please.
Here, have your money back.
And another hundred, seeing as how you lost the bet.
You can swivel, mate.
I'm already paying double time to the IRAnus over there.
Does he know you call him that? 'Ere, Brendan, have you...
Yeah, all right, all right. Here you go.
Dickhead.
Daddy!
I come in peace.
Oh, someone's seen fit to grace us with their presence.
Someone also wants to say sorry for not being around lately.
How are my cheeky little monkeys?
Vincent, you do know I'm 14 years old.
Well, that's handy, because in here I have
an age-14-sized Sergio Tacchini tracksuit top.
No way. It's not snide gear either.
Dad, you're the best.
Vincent, that cost a fortune.
No, my love, this cost a fortune.
Ta-da.
Are you fucking kidding me? Is that real mink?
Unless Liberty's have started skinning cats, it is real.
- Look at you. - Oh, it's gorgeous.
Don't worry, Robbie. I haven't forgotten about you, mate.
Millennium Falcon! Are you fucking kidding me?!
Robbie!
That's your fault, that is.
What's all this in aid of?
I told you. We're in this together.
It's time for us to start enjoying ourselves.
Thank you, Vincent.
Despite what I tell everyone I meet about you,
you're actually a lovely man.
Now, why don't we get the kids off to bed
and maybe we can get an early night ourselves?
Oh, God. I know what that means.
Come here.
The kids. You're going to have to keep that warm for me.
Let me get them off to bed.
No, I got to go out tonight.
- What! - I told you, Saturday night, prime time for sales.
You've got to be kidding me.
Those dead minks don't pay for themselves. I love you.
You wanker!
Never let it be said that I wasn't a generous man.
Especially when it came to spending Walshy's money.
It was time to give the boys their Saturday night treat.
You know what makes us different to the rest of the plebs in this town?
It's simply this, we will not take no for an answer.
Every time we knock on a door and some knob tells us
he doesn't need new windows, we're going to sell that prick
more windows than he's got holes in his fucking walls for.
- Fucking right. - Hear, hear.
So enjoy the feast and thank you for a record week.
Cheers, arseholes.
Cheers, boss.
Vincent. Listen, let's hit a club later, yeah?
We can't sit around here all night
with just Brian's monster knob for company.
You might want to wait and see what's for dessert first.
(HE WHISTLES)
Oh, bloody hell.
Oh, my God.
Blimey.
I fucking love this job.
I've been terribly good this month, yeah.
Pull the blinds, Brian.
♪ Billy left his home with a dollar in his pocket ♪
♪ And a head full of dreams ♪
♪ He said somehow, some way, it's gotta get better than this ♪
♪ Patti packed her bags, left a note for her momma ♪
♪ She was just 17 ♪
♪ There were tears in her eyes ♪
♪ When she kissed her little sister goodbye ♪
♪ Young hearts be free tonight... ♪