White Gold

Hang on a second, Walshy, frankly I can't believe what I'm hearing.

Having a company car is a basic human right.

Stop being an arse, Vincent.

No double glazing salesman has ever had a company car.

Which is exactly why I think I deserve one.

You are delusional, mate. You're having a tin bath!

Not by my lights. Do you know how much business I've brought in

these past three months? You know, the problem with you is

you've formed your own fan club.

The Vincent Swan fan club. Membership one - Vincent Swan.

You. Were you up all night working on that line, you smart arse prick?

284 grand is the answer.

You aren't getting a fucking company car! End of!

Well, you've left me with no other choice than to resign, Walshy.

You think I'm bothered? Resign then.

I'll have 50 mugs lined up to do your job by lunchtime.

Good luck with that. You'd better hire them all to replace

the money I bring in, you short-sighted wanker.

Every man has his line in the sand and that prick Walshy just

took a piss all over mine.

It's always been a dream of mine to have a company car.

Ever since yesterday lunchtime.

I go round the back, knock on his dressing room and say, "Listen..."

Who the fuck are these clowns?

"..you've got no face, and you've got fucking bollocks for hands.

"Other than that you do pretty well."

HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER

VINCENT CLEARS THROAT

My dearest Suzanne.

While I accept you have to serve other men,

you could at least try and pretend you're not enjoying it.

Martin, this is Vincent Swan, local wind-up merchant.

Runs Cachet Windows in the high street.

Likes to pretend he runs this place as well.

How are you doing, mate?

Yeah good, mate. Good.

Martin works in magazine publishing. Very glamorous, eh?

I hope they're not porn mags, Ha, no.

You'd be hard pushed to knock one out over one of our magazines.

They're trade publications.

You know, Ventilation Units Weekly,

Roofing Supply Monthly, that sort of thing.

Fuck me, they sound about as boring as that suit you're wearing.

There's no need for that.

It's just a joke.

I'll tell you what's not boring, my old son.

The amount of money we're making selling advertising space.

Now, what are you boys drinking? Nah, let me get these.

Absolutely not. I insist. We're already running a tab.

I'll just claim it back on the old expenses. What's your poison?

I'm not fussed. Whatever you're having.

Lovely lager. Same for you, boyses? Cheers.

You get an expense account?

We spend half our lives on the road, wining and dining clients,

so the old company car and expense account comes in handy.

Although it's not always easy getting a receipt

from a knocking shop in Manchester, is it, Mart?

No, it is not, Philip.

But it did save me from having to fellate the client myself.

Here you go, boyses. Winner.

Winner.

Winner.

Nice meeting you, boyses.

If you ever fancy leaving the lucrative world

of door to door sales, give us a call.

We're always on the lookout for new blood at Millman Young.

Who do we ask for? Yeah, I wasn't talking to you.

What sort of company car do you get?

Ford Granada, XL.

Oh, right. A cousin of mine used to rep for a stationary firm.

He got given a Granada, and we're talking

a couple of years back before they gave them to any old wanker.

Anyway, the first night he gets his new wheels

he decides to go for a spot of night fishing.

Being a cheapskate, he won't shell out on luminous floats,

so he just drives the car up to the lake,

beams the headlights onto the water and...

Right, gentlemen, we should probably be making a move.

Who's this little prick?

Sorry what?

Vincent, this is Andrew, our sales director.

Andrew, Vincent Swan, local raconteur.

Time to get back to the phones, lads.

Obviously, they didn't teach you manners at whatever school

you've just bunked off from.

Do your parents know you're hanging out in pubs?

Yes, very funny. I'm clearly not a child.

OK, that's us. Nice meeting you, boyses.

Hang on, I haven't finished my story.

Oh, come on then, let's all hear the end of your story.

Well, he'd parked the car on a bank with the handbrake off.

It rolled straight into the lake.

That sounds very unlikely. Right, are we done?

Hardly Peter Ustinov, is he?

Don't expect to see him on Parkinson anytime soon(!)

THEY LAUGH

Brash fuckers. "Oh, look at me, I don't own my own car.

"I drive someone else's car, like a bloody bus driver."

Why was that little one so grumpy?

He's one of the Seven Dwarves, isn't he?

Fitzpatrick was right. They were brash fuckers.

Which is why I was confident I'd fit right in there.

Right, no need to panic. Brian, you're temporary showroom manager.

Yes! I won't let you down, boss. It is an honour.

You fucking kidding me?

It's only temporary.

But why him? Because he actually sells my bloody windows!

If you want to be considered for the role then get out there

and sign me some fucking orders!

Ouch. Can I just say that firing Vincent was a smart move.

I don't want to speak ill of the recently departed

but that man was a liability.

I'm going to have to ring some serious changes round here

if we're going to be competitive again.

Look, until I get the chance to meet some potential new recruits,

I just need you to steady the ship and not fuck anything up, Brian.

Understood, boss. Still, in the meantime,

there's no harm me showing you how we get things done

the Fitzpatrick way.

You obviously are aware the name Fitzpatrick is synonymous

with fucking things up.

Yeah, well, unless you want it to be "synonymous"

with getting the sack,

I suggest you start showing your new boss some respect.

OK. One, you're not my new boss, you're just a temporary manager.

Two, respect is earned, mate, not demanded, and three...

you haven't got the balls to sack me.

Yeah? Well I'll see your... and I'll raise you.

Oh, I'm not going to fire you, mate,

I've got something much, much worse in store for you.

No, I'm going to be your mentor, I'll be Yoda to your Luke Skywalker.

I see what's happened here. You've mistaken being a weird,

ugly fella for being a Jedi Master.

Are you two fucking imbeciles going to get off your arses and

sell my bloody windows or do I need to sack you, too?!

Chop chop, Lavender.

So, you quit your job, without consulting me,

because he wouldn't give you a car when we've already got two cars.

Company car, Sam, we're talking about a company car.

Stop saying company car like it's a flying fucking carpet.

It's still a bloody car we don't need.

Unlike, er, food, clothes, a roof over our heads.

Will you just calm down?

This isn't like when I resigned from the refinery.

You were sacked from the bloody refinery! You didn't resign!

Potato, pot-ato. Walked, sacked, it's all the same.

It's not the same.

The important thing is here I've been offered a better job.

One with a company car.

If you say company car one more time I'm divorcing you.

What's the better job? Ah.

See, this is what I've been trying to tell you.

I'm moving on from double glazing.

Into publishing, selling advertising space in magazines.

No more slumming it for me as a door to door salesman.

And when were you planning on telling me about this new job,

then, Mr Advertising Executive?

Right after they offer it to me. The interview's tomorrow.

So, when you say you've got a new job what you actually mean

is you haven't got a job? Potato, pot-ato.

That's it, run away you spineless arsehole.

Sam wasn't quite grasping the difference between a car and

a company car but I felt like now wasn't the time to enlighten her.

From sales performance to leadership qualities,

Vincent Swan is the single best employee I've ever had

the pleasure of working alongside.

Our terrible loss

will be his new employer's most fortuitous gain.

Ah, that's sweet. Shall I finish it "Love, Walshy?"

No, "Yours sincerely, Mr Tony Walsh" will do.

LAVENDER AND FITZPATRICK ENTER

He fainted instantly... What the fuck are you doing here?

Lovely to see you, too, Brian.

If you've come to beg Walshy for your job back, you're too late.

There's a new sheriff in town.

Yeah, I'd heard shit for brains had finally employed

a cowboy to run this place.

Very funny. I've got one for you.

Knock knock. Who's there?

Vincent. Vincent who?

Exactly. Vincent Who.

That's what people will say when I turn this business

into a mega success story.

So? I don't give a shit, mate, I've moved on.

Got myself a job with those publishing boyses.

You know what, if you're lucky, I might just let you have

a spin in my mega company car when it arrives.

Fuck off.

Congratulations, mate. Are they still looking for reps?

You disloyal little shit.

Do I sense some disharmony in the ranks?

Do let me know if you need a few pointers on how to motivate

a sales team, Sheriff.

From you? Do me a favour.

No, my morale boosting end of week parties are going to

blow your grubby shenanigans

out the water with their decadence, depravity and...

Doctors? Daffodils? Dragons? Debauchery.

Well, that is lovely to hear cos I'm expecting you boyses

to throw me a memorable send off for my leaving do Friday.