Not Going Out

So I'm not a cartoon character, my name isn't Bill,

and I'm not known for wearing a hat.

I'm all out of questions, here.

We haven't got all year. Well, technically, of course, we have.

Because, well, you know,

it's 40 minutes to midnight on New Year's Eve.

Thanks for the anal observation.

That reminds me, can we play Twister next?

What are you like, Frank? Isn't he awful, Geoffrey?

Yes, he's absolutely appalling.

Come on, Lee. We're supposed to be entertaining our guests.

No, it's fine, Lucy.

I mean, yes, Toby did turn down an invitation to a son et lumiere

at Hampton Court, but I'd much rather spend New Year's Eve

watching Lee guess what's glued to his forehead.

Yes, don't worry on our account, Lucy.

It's been a difficult year,

not being able to spend time with friends and family.

It takes a moment like this to make you realise

lockdown wasn't really all that tedious after all.

Maybe each person gets one clue.

I don't think giving clues is in the rules.

It's just a proposal. No-one has to agree.

I wish I'd thought of that 20 years ago!

Would giving clues matter if it really speeds things up?

I don't know. Would it really matter to the World Chess Championships

if they suddenly suspended the en passant rule?

Sorry.

Don't worry. Me and Lee's mum used to always bicker like this.

Yeah, that's what ended the marriage in the end.

Huge drunken rows about the en passant rule.

OK. One clue it is.

Seeing as I set yours for you, Lee, I'll give you your clue.

You've got eight letters.

Snow White's postman!

No. Frank's turn.

Right, what country am I from?

It's yes or no questions only, I'm afraid. All right.

Yes or no, what country am I from?

Here's your clue. Your name is also Cockney rhyming slang.

Brad Pitt!

You know...

..as in, I'm going for a... No!

Eartha Kitt.

It doesn't rhyme with Pitt. Dickie Bird? Douglas Hurd?

Good God!

Oh, I just got that! Brad Pitt!

Brahms and Liszt.

Your turn, Dad.

Ha! He hasn't got a chance.

Your clue is you're an American pop singer.

Tony Bennett? Um...

Perry Como?

I'll go for Taylor Swift.

What?! Taylor Swift.

Well done, Dad! Well, he must have cheated!

Oh, and how exactly did I do that?

You saw it reflected in that mirror.

Oh, you mean the mirror hanging up above the bowl of sour grapes?

Nobby Stiles!

You know, sour grapes.

I thought I was Nobby Stiles.

Piles!

At Hampton Court, they'll be bringing the canapes around now.

I could be getting lost in the maze.

Alone.

Come on, admit it. You saw it. Don't accuse Dad of cheating, Lee.

He's never even heard of Taylor Swift. Of course I've heard of him!

Taylor Swift's a woman.

Well, it's so hard to tell nowadays.

OK, then, name one Taylor Swift song.

I don't need to be cross-examined by you to prove my integrity!

One of her less successful singles.

Lee, stop it. Of course he's heard of her.

No, he hasn't. That's the whole reason I chose Taylor Swift for him

in the first place.

Well, isn't this jolly? Perhaps New York next year.

We can go wherever you like.

"We"?

So YOU cheated.

That's not cheating.

That's just... embracing the fun

by making life as difficult as possible for you.

Did you steal that line from our marriage vows?

Well done. Dad's the winner.

And, as a prize, you get the final chocolate in the box.

Not for me, thanks.

Or me, either, apparently.

That was my Christmas present from the kids. Exactly. From the kids.

Which means I bought them.

Why did you make me Cruella de Vil?

Perhaps he couldn't spell Goebbels.

You love that film. I was trying to help you.

By suggesting I'd kill puppies and use their skins as a coat?

Is that how you see me?

Of course not.

Yeah, he knows you wouldn't bother killing them first.

Look, you made me Steve Davis, a man who's so boring,

they nicknamed him Interesting. Only because you love snooker.

If I was trying to encapsulate your personality,

I'd have left the paper blank.

Oh, what a bitch!

Seriously, Anna. Why are you such a meanie to Toby? It's not his fault.

Not everyone was born to be sexy and charismatic.

I know she's blind drunk, but she can see I'm here, right?

I am not drunk.

Now, where's my bloody clue?

The game's over, Mum.

Clue, clue, clue!

Just give her one.

Don't!

I wasn't about to make a lewd remark, actually.

You're married to a man with a metal piercing through his genitals.

Yes, but what's my clue?

Good God! Come on, Mum. Just take a guess.

I've got absolutely no idea who I am.

That's becoming increasingly obvious by the minute.

I'm Hank Marvin.

Why didn't you just say that earlier and put us all out of our misery?

Perhaps he was hiding in the Shadows.

Brilliant(!)

Oh, well, next year,

I'll be sipping champagne from the top of the Empire State Building.

And how will you get to the top?

Will you climb up the outside again and try and catch aeroplanes?

What are you doing, Frank?!

I'm just told you, I'm Hank Marvin, starving. Oh...

..I see.

Ha-ha! I had no idea!

That's so funny!

I'm Hank Marvin and I really am Hank Marvin!

I knew we should have made him James Hunt.

No-one touches the trifle until midnight.

Can you please sit back down?

It's a family tradition that we've always had, Frank.

Yeah, Dad, you know, New Year's midnight trifle.

It's one of those great traditions,

like Christmas morning kebabs or Halloween afternoon marmalade.

We all have different Hogmanay traditions, Lee,

whether it's a trifle

or a fight in a pub car park followed by a trip to casualty.

Toby always likes to get his tax returns in

before midnight on the 31st.

I find the Excel spreadsheets an oasis of calm.

It's Mum's special recipe.

I wondered why it was like you, Wendy -

all fruity and tasty looking.

And full of alcohol.

Oh, Frank, you are a naughty little boy.

I want to put you over my knee and spank you.

Why stop there?

Have him adopted.

Tom Jones?!

I asked you half an hour ago if I was a singer and you said no.

Correct.

That's because I didn't give you THAT Tom Jones.

I gave you the fictional Tom Jones,

the eponymous hero of the 18th picaresque novel by Henry Fielding.

Well done, Geoffrey. That's very clever.

Clever?! For cheating? Again!

How was that cheating?

Because no-one's ever heard of THAT Tom Jones!

Just like you've never heard of Taylor Swift. Yes, I have.

No, you haven't, because I meant the... fictional Taylor Swift

from the... anonymous pop-up book by Fenella Fielding.

Bloody cheat! How dare you call me a cheat!

THEY SHOUT ACROSS EACH OTHER

Oh, will you all just shut up?!

Why do we always have to do this every single time?!

Do what? This!

Can't we do something different for once?

I've brought Boggle.

I wasn't referring to the game, Toby!

I mean the constant childish bickering. Look at us.

We're supposed to be family and friends.

We're supposed to find joy in each other's company.

And yet, every single time we get together,

it descends into squabbling.

If we can't all learn to be a bit more civil with each other,

then maybe we need to stop spending time together.

Might be worth a try.

It'd be a shame. I look forward to our little get-togethers.

Why? All you do is deliberately try and irritate me

and make lewd remarks to my wife. Good point.

Why do you like us spending time together, Frank?

Well, because I like deliberately trying to irritate him

and making lewd remarks to his wife.

Well, I've had enough.

This coming year, things are going to change.

In fact, we start as we mean to go on.

There's half an hour left until midnight. That's the deadline.

If we can't enter the year in a spirit of peace and goodwill to all,

then, by Christ, I'm going to...

..chuck that trifle over someone's head!

Well, maybe... Maybe Lucy has a point.

We need to make more of an effort to get along. We're all grown adults.

Don't worry, Dad. We'll get you a stepladder.

Careful, Lee. You're risking a trifle on the head.

Oh, don't be stupid. Lucy's not serious.

She's hardly going to waste her precious home-made trifle by...