Kenny, Fraser and others in “Unfinished Business”

Good morning, Ally.

No, Kenny, it is not a good morning. It is not a good morning at all.

Oh well, if your mood's going to affect your game, we'll double the ante.

Oh? Why, didn't you like that little masseuse I sent you last week? She did wonders with my back swing.

[Getting his driver out] I'm talking about the house, Kenny. Why did you not tell me that it was a listed building?

You didn't ask me.

How am I supposed to turn it into timesharing units when it's got a preservarion order slapped on it?

I didn't know that was your intention.

Piss off, Kenny! You didn't think I was gonna live there, did you?

Yeah, I did, actually. You'd better tee off, son. There's some people coming. [Ally tees off aggressively, creating a large divot in the teeing area. Kenny laughs] Oh, dear. Oh, dear. What bad luck. [Gets a tee out of his pocket and places it into the ground] You know, I was actually going to live in the place when I first bought the drum. Rather saw myself as a country squire. Got myself all kitted out - guns from Purdies, suits from Daks, bought myself a fishing rod and a Range Rover. [Looks along the hole and shouts] Cuatro!

[At the buggy] What?

Fore, you berk. [Hits the ball. It lands in a better place than Ally's. Kenny laughs.] Even went up there a few weekends to inveigle myself with the local populace. Invited the neighbours over for sherry. [Gets in the buggy with Ally.] Even opened a bleeding church bazaar.

[As he starts to drive the buggy along the hole] The local populace, I assume, were quite unaware of the fact you were London's leading pornographer?

Oh, yeah. I mean, I kept that shtum. Hinted at the rag trade. I was really getting into it. One day I woke up and I thought, "I'd even like to end my days here." I wasn't being morbid, more philosophical, really. I thought, "If I snuff it, I'd rather like to do it in a typical English rural setting. Preferably with a cricket match on the village green."

And is there honey still for tea?

What?

Rupert Brooke.

Who's he? One of Ronnie Knight's mob?

No, he's a poet, Kenny. Shared your new-found affections for the joys of England.

Oh, I must give him a read. Is he one of the modern ones?

No, no. Long gone, Kenny. [Stops the buggy.] Died in a foreign field. Which is exactly what you will do. [Gets out of the buggy and gets a club.]

Ally, I was set up. That's the tragedy of it.

I feel a wee bit the same way! [Fraser frantically searches for his ball in the rough.]

Oh, come on, Ally. You've acquired a beautiful residence, well below the market value. All you've got to do is to restore it to its former grandeur. [Fraser chips the ball out of the rough.] Why don't you turn it into a fat farm?