Spider

It's down there, isn't it?

It's down there, I think.

Let me see what it says. What's it say?

What's this say? "Peggy Street."

Miss... Mrs. Wilkinson.

Mr. Cleg, I presume.

I'm Mrs. Wilkinson.

Come in. We've been expecting you.

Wait here, Mr. Cleg, while I fetch me keys.

Good evening to you, sir.

You're familiar with the scorpion, I take it?

- No. No. - Not from Africa, then?

I had you down as an old Africa hand.

No.

Africa.

Now, there's a dark continent for you.

I knew a man once who had been told

never to go barefoot, because of the scorpion.

Getting acquainted with the residents, Mr. Cleg?

Good. This is Terrence.

But I'm afraid we are not to be trusted.

Are we, Terrence? Now

let's get you upstairs

and out of those wet things.

Got out of bed in the middle of the night, put his shoes on...

Put his shoes on

stung by a scorpion

sleeping in one of the toe caps.

Died in agony. Seventeen hours.

Take these, Mr. Cleg.

Come on.

Your room, Mr. Cleg.

What, not undressed yet?

Here.

Very well, then, Mr. Cleg.

I'll leave you to your own devices.

Kitchener Street.

Spleen Street.

Omdurman close.

The allotments

by the railway... By the railway,

and down the canal.

And down the canal.

Kitchener Street.

My mum.

Wakey, wakey, Mr. Cleg.

Not in bed, please.

I trust you slept well, sir.

The bedding in this house

has a curious character.

But one does grow

used to it after just a few years.

[... I will not.

I will not be here that long.

Nor did I expect to be,

but it is a loud world,

and this is an island.

But an island, sir,

ruled by a tyrant queen

who has the power to send any one of us

back to where we came from.

The asylum, I mean.

Terrence, waxing already?

Perhaps you'd share your thoughts with me sometime.

Mr. Cleg.

How many shirts are you wearing?

One, two, three, four!

Now, really, is this absolutely necessary?

Oh, indeed it is, madam.

Clothes maketh the man.

And

the less there is of the man,

the more the need for the clothes.

My mum...

Mummy!

Brilliant.

It's the

wing of... Wing of a sea gull.

It.

Could have gone nowhere else.

Are you making progress?

- What you doing? - Making something.

Making something.

Aren't you clever?

- You're so good with your hands. - It's for you.

It's for you. It's for you.

Now...

Run down the Dog. There's a good boy.

Tell your father his dinner's on the table.

- It's not on the table. - It's not on the table.

Well, it will be by the time you get him out of that pub.

Don't go out the front. I just done them steps.

- Who's this, then? - Handsome little fella, ain't you?

- I've come for me dad. - Not here, is he?

You showed him!

I can't believe she done that. Look at his little face.

Bless him.

Leave him alone.

- Evening, Bill. - Evening, Ernie.

- The usual? - Yeah. Cheers, mate.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

Now, don't you say a word.

Well

it was different when I was a girl.

We lived out in the country then.

Essex.

I remember how I'd go across the fields in the morning,

and I'd see the webs in the trees.

Like clouds of muslin, they were.

What, spiders' webs?

- Spiders' webs. - Of course spiders' webs.

Who else makes webs?

And then, when I got close.

I'd see that there wasn't muslin at all.

They were wheels.

- Great big shining wheels. - Great big shining wheels.

- And you know what else? - What?

If you knew where to look

you could find the spider's egg bags.

Perfect little things, they were.

Tiny little silk pockets she made,

to put her eggs in.

What happened to her after she laid her eggs?

You like this bit, don't you?

She just crawled away without looking back once.

And then she died?

Her work was done.

She had no more silk left.

She was all dried up and empty.

Dried up and...

You ready, then?

As ready as I'll ever be.

And you, you guard the house,

all right?

We'll do that later. Come on.

That's nice, Billy. Let's go have a drink now.

Evening, Bill.

What will you have, then?

Gin and orange for me, Billy.

- Evening, Bill. - Evening, Ernie.

Pint of bitter, please, and a gin and orange for the missus.

Gin and orange.

I've seen more meat on a butcher's apron.

Nice froth, that.

He started having a Sherman, right?

I says to him, "If that's the best you can do, you wanna take that up west."

"See what smart people have to say about it." Getting an eyeful, are you?

It's that fat tart Yvonne Wilkinson.

- Cheers, Ernie. - Cheers.

Fat tart

Yvonne Wilkinson.

Gin and orange.

Don't drink so fast, Bill.

Fancy another one?

No, I'm not ready for another one yet.

Turns to me and says, "Nora, no rush."

So the man comes to Nora. She's into him right away.

Next thing, she's got half of London dock all over her.

She's standing there, laughing. "What are you laughing at?" I said.

I'm drying me self off, like.

"I'm with you," she says. "Look at him.

More like Tom Thumb." "Tom Thumb?" I says.

"What about...? What about Tiny Tim?"

How we laughed.

Now his dad, that's another story.

He was a right little towel rag. I won't let him near me.

He told me he's there. I says... I says:

"I'll get the decorators in, know what I mean?"

Yvonne Wilkinson.

She made the first move.

Oh, for God's sake, stop crying!

It was your own fault.

Inside now!

You big baby.

Yes?

- Plumber. - What?

I'm the plumber. I believe you've got trouble with your pipes.

Yve! Plumber!

Don't tread on the cats.

It's in there.

Is that the plumber?

Hello, Yvonne.

Hear that? We get that all day.

All bloody day.

- Don't we, Nora? - All bloody day.

You want air in those pipes.

We got air. Bad air.

Bad air.

Can't you smell it?

It's coming from your lavatory, isn't it?

I sincerely hope so.

Shocking, the state of the plumbing in this place.

You gonna do me pipes or what?

I had a letter from that Sophia Loren this morning.

- Oh, yeah? - Yeah.

What she want, then?

The usual thing.