Love, Nina

Skips are nothing to do with age!

- Hello. - Morning.

Me first!

- Bye. - Argh!

- What about me? - All right.

Whoa!

Dear Vic, I agree.

That Vanessa Chatsworth story is very odd.

You can't suddenly decide you're Australian.

It's not a religion, is it? You can't convert.

If she wants to pull it off, she's going to have to move to

a town where nobody was at primary school with her.

I wonder if it's a form of mental illness?

- Are you locked out? - Sorry?

Oh! No.

The boys are just having a little mess-about in the skip.

The news from London is that I seem to have met someone.

Although I'm not sure I like him much.

I regret to inform you that are no boys in the skip.

- Oh, shit. - Are you supposed to be looking after them? - I'm their nanny.

What else are you good at? You're going to need a new job.

- Please, listen. Please listen. - Boys!

I'm sure our readers...

Shh!

Look, please listen.

No, I'm sure our readers are fascinated by a quarrel

between Sir Philip Sidney and Edward de Vere.

But 12,000 words, Nick?

Honestly, people have lives, they have families. They've got jobs.

- They're got televisions. - Boys?

Shh!

Hmm?

Well, I do, yes, actually. Grange Hill.

Question Of Sport, Match Of The Day.

Bergerac, Rockford Files.

Maybe you should watch Rockford Files, might help you with your word count.

- Boys? - Hang on, one second, sorry.

Stibbe, is everything all right?

Yes. Completely fine.

All right.

Sorry, where were we? Hmm?

- Yeah, but they got lucky. - Nunney, what team do you support?

Man U, of course. What's yours?

Arsenal, we're going to win the league this year.

- No, you're rubbish. - They're better than Spurs.

You've got Lee Chapman in attack, how can you win the league with him?

- We wouldn't have bought him if it wasn't any good. - Where were you? - In the skip. - No, you weren't.

You just didn't look hard enough.

- You went to the shop for sweets. - We were bored.

You just sat there reading.

Only because you were in the skip.

Must be an extremely good book.

It is, actually.

I presume you just got to the good bit,

that's why you lost track of the boys?

And what would you call the good bit?

The goldfish.

- Can I read it after you? - Not suitable.

- The book about a talking goldfish? - Who says he talks? - I just presumed.

He can't talk. Not where he's going.

- At least, there'd be trouble if he did. - Will you stop it?

- Oh, my God. - Now look what you've done.

What?

Ugh!

- So, what's a proper girl like you doing reading a book like that for, anyway? - That's disgusting!

- What should I be reading? - I think you could probably manage Austen.

I've already managed Austen, thank you very much.

Or Hardy. I could lend you some.

All right, thanks.

It better be as good as this one.

- Shit. - They've gone home.

See you.

His name is Nunney.

And he's handsome, and I think he's probably clever.

He has clever hair, if you know what I mean. University hair, I call it.

He's not at university, but he's applying.

So, pros -- one, clever.

Two, good-looking.

Three, convenient -- works in the street.

Cons -- don't know whether I actually like him.

Pros win, 3-1.

- Is George not eating with us? - She's going out on a date.

- With Floppy. - Floppy?

That's what they call David, because of the hair.

- Are you going out on a date with David? - Yep.

David Moore?

- Yep. - Floppy.

I thought you didn't like David Moore very much?

Can you pass the coleslaw there, please, Max?

Are those tinned mandarins?

They are, aren't they? Dear God.

I want to know why George is going on a date

with someone she's not very keen on?

Yes, I'd be wanting to change the subject too, if I were you, too.

Trying to remember. Seemed like a good idea when he asked me.

You often have floppy hair if you go to university, don't you?

- Oh, I see. - What?

David Moore hasn't been to university for a while.

And also, Nina, salad cream?!

What's wrong with the salad cream now?

You sound like Mrs Thatcher.

Boo!

Max, what do you see?

What do I see?

My turn, he took too long!

Stibbe's coleslaw, Stibbe, plates, cutlery!

No, before, you said, "I see"? When Nina was asking you about

- what kind of hair people had at university? - Oh.

Nina likes the look of Nunney. - Oh!

- That's exciting. - I did NOT look the like of him.

Like the look of him.

He looked after us when Nina left us in the skip.

I did not leave you in the skip, and you climbed out without telling me.

You were in Ursula Vaughan Williams' skip?

Who's Ursula Whatsit's Whatsit?

Ralph's widow.

Who's Ralph?

Ralph Vaughan Williams.

The composer?

There was a composer called Ralph?

Why were they in the skip in the first place?

- They wanted to go in there. - Right, and that's what I pay you for?

To execute their every ridiculous whim?

It wasn't my finest hour as a nanny.

What would you say has been, so far, as a matter of interest?

Hmm...

Hmm?

Don't anyone call him Floppy.

All right, I'm coming!

Hi.

Hi.

I liked your piece in the Literary Observer

about Graham Greene's entertainment.

That wasn't me.

Oh, I thought it was.

No.

Are you sure?

See you later.

Get in there, Floppy!

Romantically speaking,

I've always ruled out the people I couldn't really stand.

But George seemed to quite enjoy her evening with Floppy.

Even though he irritated the hell out of her.

She even said she might do it again.

Shut up!

You keep hitting me, I'm going to deport you!

So maybe I should keep an open mind

and not rule anything out at this stage.

Do you mind me asking if you regret any of them?

Yes.

Sorry, my fault for imprecise phrasing.

Yes, you mind me asking, or yes, you regret them?

Both.

Oh. It's just...

I look after a couple of young lads, and you know what they're like.

What advice would you give them?

Don't be a butcher.

I meant in the tattoo arena.

- You actually going to buy anything? - Yes.

Five lamb chops, please.

Stick to football teams and parents.

- Are you talking about tattoos or life? - Both.

Oh.

Can't you remove it?

- She'd notice. - I'm guessing that matters?

- Wife. - Oh.

So you're still together, at least?

Unless it's only because of the tattoo.

Stuck with it all now, aren't I?

I presume you liked her when you married her?

She was pregnant when I married her.

Well, I presume you liked her a couple of months before that?

- How old are you? - 20.

Yeah, like I thought -- old enough to know better.

I like her, she likes me, what's liking got to do with anything?

£1.68, please.

- There's two there. - Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Who's next? Hello, mate.

When was the last time you had an episode, Joey?

- He doesn't really like being called Joey. - Sorry.

When was the last crisis, Joe?

The day of the European Cup Final.

I wasn't allowed to watch, so I had to sit in the dark,

- listening to the radio. - I'm not a football fan, I'm afraid.

About ten days ago.

Do you know anyone called Marigold?

Erm, no. Don't think I do.

Funny, isn't it? My parents knew dozens of Marigolds.

Every other middle-aged woman who came to tea

seemed to be called Marigold.

- Do you want some tea, Marigolds? - Thank you, Marigold.

Would you like a scone, Marigold?

Gone for ever, do you think? The name, not middle-aged women.

I don't know, really.

Would you call your daughter Marigold?

- If you paid me a lot of money. - Good grief, no money involved!

I'm not mad. Out of your own free will.

How are my eyes?