It's nice to think you could retire to somewhere like this. I suppose the best I could hope for is a caravan near Clevedon overlooking the Bristol Channel.
At least people would talk to you there, Bomb. You'd have neighbours and friends. Where out here, you'd probably wind up next to some people like that couple who hoyed us out of their pool today.
Aye. I know we were trespassing, like, but as soon as I seen his face I hate him. He's just the sort of person that makes you ashamed to be English.
In all fairness, Oz, he probably feels exactly the same about you.
What? Well, he shouldn't, should he? 'Cos I'm isn't. He is. He is. Every time I see his sort, the hairs on me back curl up!
Yeah. The bourgeoisie.
Yeah. A prick, in my language. He's the sort of bloke who'd sit in the golf club all day, moaning and groaning, or write to the papers about [Posh accent] how people don't pull their weight. [Normal accent] Then what does he do when he cops his pension, eh? Whoosh! Body sweve doon to Spain so he'll not get collared wi' nae tax!
Er, when did you last pay your income tax, Oz? Was it...
What's that gotta do with anything?
I thought you lads might be a bit thirsty.
Oh, San Miguel? [Wayne and Nev take a beer from the tray.]
Vicky, just bring that over here, will you? I'll take care of that. [She puts the tray on the table] There you go, gentlemen, help yourselves to a beer. I'll be with you in just a moment. Uno momento. Vicky? [Goes into the villa. Vicky follows.]
Always wondered what our Vicky would look like unwrapped.
Oh, pathetic!
Look, Vicky, when we've got these cowboys around the place, it might look better if you didn't go around flaunting yourself.
[Looks down at her bikini-clad body] Who's flaunting?
D'ya think that bikini's the height of discretion? I used to use bigger plasters to cover my pimples.
Yes, well, you don't complain as a rule, do you? [Reclines on the sofa]
Well, as a rule, I don't have seven randy brickies running around the patio!
Well, there's going to be no point in going out is there? I mean, I cannae sunbathe, I cannae go for a swim 'cos there's nae water in the pool, I cannae play me records 'cos I cannae hear them for the concrete mixer...
Are the arrangements not to your liking, Vicky?
I'm just saying...
Is the villa no longer up to scratch? May I just remind you that two years ago, when you were a manicurist at Maison André, your idea of the holiday of a lifetime was a fortnight at Redcar!
Listen, I travelled before I met you, Ally Fraser. Me and me friend Barbara had two successive summers in Magaluf.
Och, well, in that case... In that case... [Picks up the phone and hands it to Vicky] Why don't you just give Barbara a bell? See if she's still got the tent!
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