My Beautiful Laundrette

- Hell. - We're moving out.

- You got a fire? - Too early in the morning.

All right.

Get out of there. Come on.

Come here, come here.

I'm fixing you up with a job...

with your uncle.

Work, now, till you go back to college.

If your face gets any longer here, you'll overbalance.

Or I'll commit suicide.

Ah, Bilquis?

Good.

And Tania and the other girls?

I say...

can't you give Omar some work...

in your garage for a few weeks?

Oh, come on, yaar. The bugger is your nephew, after all.

He's on dole...

like everyone else in England.

He sweeps the dust...

from one place to another...

he squeezes shirts, and he heats soup.

I mean, that hardly stretches him.

Though his food stretches me.

Oh, come on, yaar .

I'll send him to college in the autumn.

One thing more:

Try and fix him up with a nice girl.

I'm not sure his penis is in full working order.

Yes, we've got one parking space.

Twenty-five pounds a week.

And from this afternoon...

we're offering a special on-the-premises...

clean-the-car service.

New thing.

Hey!

Is that your car?

Why you feeling it up, then?

Come here. Here, I said!

And this bastard who almost beat you up is Salim.

You'll be seeing a lot of him.

I've heard great things about your father.

I must see him, but where have I got time?

You're too busy keeping this country in the black.

Still, someone's got to do it.

So your papa got thrown out of that clerk's job I fixed him with?

Pissed, was he?

Can you wash a car?

Have you washed a car before?

Your uncle can't pay you very much...

but you'll be able to afford a decent shirt...

and you'll be with your own people, not in a dole queue.

And Mrs. Thatcher will be happy with me.

It's easy to wash a car.

You just wet a rag and rub.

You know how to rub, don't you?

Do this one first.

Carefully...

as if you were restoring a Renaissance painting.

It's my car. Huh?

- Hi, baby. - My love.

Here.

What do you think I am, your trampoline?

Oh, yes, yes, yes. Je t'aime, mon trampoline.

Speak my language, damn it!

I'll do nothing else, Nasser.

- Do you think we'll ever part? - Not at the moment!

I'm serious.

Just keep moving.

Oh, just there!

Oh, I love you! Oh, darling!

Christ, you move like a liner!

I love you too. Can we go away somewhere?

- Yes, I'm taking you. - Where?

- Kempton Park, Saturday. - Great!

Great! Can we take the boy?

I've got big plans for the boy.

You're not gonna make him work?

- By the way, Rachel is my old friend. - Hello.

- How's Auntie Bilquis? - At home with the kids.

Papa sends his love. If I pick Papa up ̶

Have you ever been to a high-class place like this before?

I suppose you spend most of the time in your black-hole flat.

If I pick Papa up...

- He's one of those underprivileged types. - and squeezed him...

squeezed Papa out like that, I often imagine I'd get...

- Two fat slaps. - two bottles of pure vodka...

and a flap of skin, like a French letter.

What are you talking, madman? I love my brother.

- Like I love you. - I don't understand how you can love me.

- Because you're such a prick! - You can't be sure I am.

Nasser.

She's right.

Don't deliberately egg me on to laugh at you...

when I've brought you here to tell you one essential thing. Move closer.

Get up.

In this damn country, which we hate and love...

you can get anything you want.

It's all spread out and available.

That's why I believe in England.

Only, you have to know how to squeeze the tits of the system.

He's saying he wants to help you.

- What do you want to do with me? - What am I going to do with you?

Turn you into something damn good.

Your father can't do it, can he?

Here, damn fool.

Take it.

You're like a son to me.

To both of us.

You like the work?

Come on, for chrissake.

Help me with my accounts.

Kiss Rachel.

I said give her a kiss, not a shower.

I'll finish your paperwork tonight, Uncle.

Such a good worker. I'm going to promote him.

- What to? - Come to my house next week, and I'll tell you.

- How will he get there? - I'll give him a car. That one there.

The keys are in the office. Anything he wants.

I've got a real challenge lined up for him.

You must be getting married.

Why else do you dress like an undertaker on holiday?

I'm going to Uncle's house, Papa. He's given me a car.

Brakes must be faulty.

Look, tell me one thing...

'cause this is something I don't understand.

It must be my fault.

How is it that scrubbing cars...

can make a son of mine look so ecstatic?

It gets me out of the house.

Look, don't get too involved with that crook.

You've got to go to college.

This is my nephew, Omar.

Auntie Fasia.

Auntie Farida.

Auntie Salma.

And this is Cherry, Salim's wife.

Of course you remember our three naughty daughters.

He has his family's cheekbones, Bilquis.

I know all your gorgeous family in Karachi.

- You've been there? - You stupid!

What a stupid! It's my home.

How could anyone in their right mind...

call this silly little island off Europe their home?

Every day in Karachi, your other uncles...

and cousins come to our house for bridge, booze, and VCR.

Cherry, my little nephew knows nothing about that life there.

Oh, God!

I'm sick of hearing about these in-betweens.

People should make up their minds where they are.

Your uncle's next door.

Can you see me later?

I'm so bored with these people.

Games room, okay?

I presume my brother, the boy's papa...

was out screwing some barmaid somewhere.

So when these tappings went on...

I got out of bed, went to the balcony, and opened the door.

And there was my brother.

He was standing outside with some woman...

and they were completely without clothes!

Blue with cold, like two bars of soap.

This I refer to as my brother's blue period.

What happened to the woman?

He married her!

Come along, come along.

Come.

Your father is a good man.

So this is the famous Hussein's son.

The exact bastard.

My blue brother was also...

a famous journalist in Bombay, and a great drinker.

He was to the bottle...

what Louis Armstrong is to the trumpet.

But you are to the bookies what Mother Teresa is to the children.

Your brother was a clever one.

- You used to carry his typewriter. - Isn't he coming tonight?

- Whatever happened to him? - Papa's lying down.

- I meant his career. - That's lying down also.

What chance would an Englishman give a leftist...

communist Pakistani on newspapers?

Socialist!

Socialist.

What chance would an Englishman give...

a leftist, communist socialist?

What chance a racist Englishman has given us...

that we haven't taken it from him with our hands?

Let's face it, yaar.

Zaki!

You need a stiff drink for making that good point.

Nasser! Please, God.

I'm on the verge already.

Can I make you a drink?

Make him a man first.

Give him a drink, Zaki. I like him.

He's our future.

Cheers.

It's been years.

And you're looking really good now.

I think we understand each other, eh?