Beautiful People (US) - First Season

# Ah-ah

# Don't let them go, don't let them go

# Take a beautiful dream and let it show

# Don't let them go, don't let them go

# Take a beautiful dream and let it grow, grow, grow, grow, grow

# Na-na-na-na-na-na, na, na-na-na

# Let it grow, grow, grow, grow, grow #

- What are we calling this, then? - Men who look like old lesbians.

Ta-da!

The Muffia?

Jon Voight. Denis Leary.

Phil Spector. Tony Curtis.

Why do they all look like spinster Aunt Pat,

who wore slacks, never married and had a close personal friend called Jean?

They've all had eye lifts?

here to here to nature.

There's nothing wrong with looking like a dyke, you know.

Tell that to Chastity Bono.

Sacha, no!

Simon, it's Just a vayse.

It's a vaaase.

Simon, it's Just a vase.

Do you know what you're saying?

# Love, shine a light in every corner of my heart...

I wasn't always a slightly fey window dresser in glamorous New York.

I was a slightly fey schoolboy in humdrum Reading.

So, when I saw something even remotely glamorous, I coveted it,

believing that possessing it would make me more glamorous, too.

How'd you get on at school today, son?

You have to remember this was a very long time ago,

so there was no such thing as Heat magazine or The X Factor.

As deprived children, we had to make our own fun,

particularly with pig-ugly student teachers.

Miss? Who cut your hair, Miss? The council?

Where'd you get your dress, Miss?

Oxfam?

That's my best friend, Kylie.

More of him later.

Miss, are those shoes, Miss, or Cornish pasties?

Where'd you get your voice from, poof?

Gays'R'Us?

Well, the winner of the essay competition... is Simon Doonan.

You?

- What was this essay about, lover? - My family.

Did you hear that, Hayls? He's written an essay about us.

Do you know a Melody Crescent? She used to be in All Saints.

She left when she stubbed her toe on Shaznay's mum's crazy paving.

Go, girlfriend!

Melody Crescent is the street where I live, here in Reading,

with my very slim Aunty Hayley, who's also blind.

Though she's not really my aunty,

and she's not really very slim.

Just enJoy the playfulness of his syntax, sweetheart.

Then there's my sister, Ashlene.

She's been with every lad in our street.

In fact, I once heard my mum say, "She's got more exes than Littlewoods Pools."

I ain't been with every lad. I ain't been with... Backward Frank.

My dad's a plumber, so when my mum's out at work,

he has a good look at all the women in our street's pipes.

You filthy minded little beggar!

And last, but by no means least, my mum.

My Mum's name is Debbie.

She bleaches her hair and drinks gin.

Only because I won a year's free supply in a poetry writing competition.

It's true.

Gin, gin, where do I begin?

Having you inside me is like an old friend popping in.

I wonder if Philip Larkin ever wore stripes.

In fact, she and my dad drank so much when they got married,

they can't remember what date it was.

- You don't half exaggerate. - When was it, then?

- June 14th. - May 8th.

Pour me a little glass. My nerves are shot to bits.

Actually, no. My son obviously thinks I have a problem with the sauce.

So I shall prove him wrong. Make me a cup of tea.

A nice, sweet, soothing cup of non-alcoholic tea.

Mother, my essay wasn't a criticism.

It was a statement of fact, pure and simple.

You think I can't live without gin? Fine, I'll show you.

I shall give up alcohol for a week.

You watch. I can do it. One week off the booze, starting now.

My mother had a history of helping people to stop doing things.

Aunty Hayley used to be hooked, not only on classics, but also on amphetamines.

She'd moved in with us so Mum could help wean her off them.

- She stopped my dad from swearing. - Handball!

- Bollocks! - Ah ah!

She stopped me from biting my nails.

She stopped Ashlene snogging ugly lads.

Ashlene Doonan, move away from the spotty geek.

Move away from the spotty geek.

She didn't stop Pauline Fowler from having poker-straight hair and a dour demeanour.

So could she stop herself from becoming Reading's answer to Oliver Reed?

You know, I have to say, this no-drinking lark is going really, really well.

I've had no sudden cravings, I ain't fell off no wagon,

and I'm getting a lot of support from Michael Barrymore.

"It's All About Me, Alwright." Bless!

Debbie, you only knocked it on the head 30 seconds ago.

One day at a time, Hayley. One day at a time.

When I grew up, Saturdays were known for kids' TV and hair experimentation.

Ow! Simon, that hurts.

You know what they say about topknots, Ashlene? No pain, no gain.

#... oh, what a beautiful day!

- How did you sleep, babe? - Like a log.

And it is so lovely to wake up without a hangover.

Not that I ever had them in the first place.

Aunty Hayley always gave her dogs the oddest of names.

Mummy!

Sorry. What time is it?

Time you got a guide dog that can see.

- Quarter to eleven. - I'm going slightly gaga.

I'm going to a gathering today of the Granola Guru, Gaylord Greenstein,

at the Gurt Gordon Greenpeace Gallery.

I gather he's gorgeous. I wouldn't mind giving him a good going over.

Aunty Hayley was brought to you today by the letter G.

And Simon, I thought about what you said, and I am going to lose weight.

- You are there, aren't you, Simon? - Erm... Yes.

- I thought I could smell your Egoist. - Oh, here we go.

Surely you remember my family's favourite advert?

Ego. Iste!

Ego. Iste!

Ego. Iste!

Ego. Iste!

Ego. Iste!

Ego. Iste!

I often wonder where I get my creativity from.

Possibly it was my father's ability to turn parsnips, marmalade

and rumour has it, on one occasion, even KYJelly, into homemade wine.

I'm taking the kids out.

My mum wasn't so much creative as, well, two-faced.

- Hi, Debbie. - Hi, Reba.

Slut.

- All right, Kylie? - Girl power!

Don't call him Kylie. He's Kyle, innit?

So... Kylie.

His real name was Kyle, but he only ever answered to the name of his idol.

We did everything together.

Everything that normal lads do -

pretended to be Canadian in public places...

This sure does feel a long way from Vancouver, buddy.

Yaah!

... worked out complex dance routines to '80s floor fillers...

# Relax, don't do it

# When you want to come

And our favourite game, doling out unwanted fashion advice to the proletariat of Reading.

Ditch the fringe, love. It ain't working.

Eugh! Camel toe!

I didn't realise there was a Miss Byrite.

- Where are you going? - We're going to see the world.

Slough.

Come on.

It was around this time that I started to think

that a glamorous life would be better than the one on offer.

# Too many cars, men in bars, and broken hearts

# Riding a bus that takes them nowhere

Shut up, Alicia!

# Too many houses, narrow streets, narrow minds

# And this little town

# Has done for me

I was a concerned record company executive chaperoning Amy Winehouse.

But if my mum was a beehive-free Amy,

what did that make my dad?

# But I'll never leave

# For the sanctity of soul...

Andy?

Irresistible, apparently.

It's right draughty round my gash.

I mean gaff.

Right.

You couldn't pop round and bleed my radiators?

Oh, Andy, you're so good with your hands.

Ooh!

Oh, I can feel my sap rising.

There. Done.

See you, Reba.

Oh, here comes Amy again.

I might Just pop in here and use the loo.

Mum!

It was the worst day out in the world.

What, worse than when we queued to see Princess Anne at the special school?

Much.

Come and see my new dance move.

Dad wasn't the only one who had temptation put in his way at Kylie's house that day.

Only unlike Dad, I gave in to it.

So, what are we going to do tonight, girlfriend?

I'll tell you what you're going to do, girlfriend.

You're going to stop acting like a batty boy and stop calling him girlfriend, girlfriend!

Don't worry, Kylie. When we're older, we are going to get out of Reading.

- And where will we be? - London.

And who will we live amongst?

The beautiful people.

It'll be the epitome of fabulosity. I promise.

OK. It's a shame you never saw my new dance move earlier.

- It's like a cross between... - Kylie, I've got to go.

I know, I know.

I'm autumn, this colour's winter.

No, no, please don't! Ashlene!

What are you going to do with that? Please, I'll do anything.

What's it worth to you? Name your price.

I want you to do my hair like Heather Small from M People.

And if you don't, this gets shown to everyone you know.