This programme contains some strong language.
# Don't let them go
# Take a beautiful dream And let it show
# Don't let them go
# Take a beautiful dream And let it go, go, go, go, go
# Na-na-nah-nah-nah-nah... #
It is a truth universally acknowledged
that I am spectacularly easy on the eye.
GYPSY: You are stunning.
Cheekbones like wing mirrors.
But those lucky enough to get up close and personal
with this particular work of art
will sometimes notice a flaw in the canvas.
From this angle...
you have curiously and ever so slightly...broken nose.
All my life, I'd wanted to be on the stage.
# Another openin', another show
# In Philly, Boston, to Baltimore
# A chance for stage folks To say hello... #
BANGING
Trying to sleep here!
Shut up! Shut up, Simon!
DOG HOWLS
QUIETLY: # Another openin' of Another show... #
That boy came out the womb wearing tap shoes and a top hat.
No wonder you needed stitches.
And then when I was 13, the chance to be
the next Bonnie Langford came a-tapping at my cat flap.
Oh, bollocks.
HYPERVENTILATES EXCITEDLY
A theatre school in Reading? What's it called?
Madame Darcy School...
for burgeoning theatricals.
AUDIENCE CHEERS AND APPLAUDS
Why can't I go?
Because we can't feckin' afford it, that's why. Language, Andy.
Simon, you're blocking my view.
Just because you two can't be bothered to go out
and get decent jobs, I have to be denied my destiny.
Simon! We have got decent jobs.
Er, plumber. Barmaid.
I wonder if that's what
Huge Grant's folks did for a living.
It's Hugh Grant, Simon. Stop showing off.
And there's no such thing as a destiny.
Er, Joan of Arc had a destiny.
To be burned at the stake? Big deal.
Imagine if her parents had turned round and said,
"Guess what, Joan? We can't afford the matches".
What's this rubbish? Wash your mouth out, Simon Doonan.
This is Carrie. A seminal horror flick about an isolated girl
with strange telekinetic powers.
Sissy Spacek was nominated for an Oscar for it.
They turned it into a musical in the '80s.
Was it fabulous? Nah. It was shite.
You mam and I left at the overture.
Ah, look, Simon, two sissies in one room.
Ashlene!
God, I hate my life.
I hate that none of you have got any imagination,
but most of all, I hate that of all
the places you chose to run away to,
you chose bloody Reading!
Oh, sorry. Look where you're going.
Has she been covered in pig's blood yet? Oi!
Sorry. God.
As they would say years later on the X Factor,
nothing was going to get in the way of following my dream.
I bet they do non-stop
shuffle-ball-change, even in Maths.
Right, there's money on the bar for chips.
I'm going to a fancy dress party.
What as? A prostitute?
THEY GIGGLE
I'm the lady in red and your
Uncle Clint's Chris de Burgh.
Come on, sweetheart.
More like Chris de Burger.
It's always hard being a parent.
Ask Britney Spears.
Are we doing the right thing?
Big Mick across the road, I mean, he's an actor.
He never went to no drama school.
He's a kids' entertainer, Andy.
He makes bicycles out of balloons.
Well, he tries. He only ever gets as far as the handlebars and then "pop".
He's better off getting a decent education.
He's 63 and borderline schizophrenic, Andy.
I wonder what my destiny is.
Well, mine obviously isn't to finish Flowers In The Attic.
You think about things too much.
Do you want me to be like every other Stepford wife on the street?
One topic of conversation, EastEnders.
The only one I really like's Roly the poodle and even he's mildly annoying.
Are you not happy with your lot?
Are you?
Well, I'm married to a gorgeous woman. I've got two brilliant kids.
We've a roof over our heads, booze on tap.
If that's destiny, well, fair play to it.
Destiny rocks.
Destiny sucks.
You think of all the old people in this country
sitting around in rest homes dribbling.
If that's destiny,
you can stick it in a bag and file it under FI - Forget It.
Well, your mam does all right. With wooden teeth?
You sure these aren't too long?
Nah.
What's more important, yeah, is purpose, and you've found yours.
Have I? You're a wife and mother,
you lucky old cow.
Who's going to want to bang a blind bird?
Debbie, what you doing? Thinking.
Well, don't. That's my knuckle. Sorry.
Ow!
Who needs an epidermis anyway?
What happens when the kids leave home though, Hayley?
Cos one day they will.
Simon will be a big West End star.
Ashlene'll be married to a drug dealer in Penge.
What's my purpose then?
Who knows, babe.
It's as Hattie McDaniel once said,
"It's just someting da angels done plan". Did she?
I might have made that up.
DRUMS NAILS
Oh.
'Fortunately my mother was saved from her existential angst by the bell.'
Mr Bell? 'Our drama teacher.'
Never heard of him. Does he have one eye bigger than the other,
huge side boards and a Mallen streak?
Yep. No, I don't know him. I'm thinking of Dickie Davies.
HAYLEY DRUMS NAILS
He's our drama teacher and he handed these out today.
They're not condoms, are they? Leaflets. Don't get excited.
Mr Bell's a pervert, man.
He's always in the girls' changing rooms after PE.
I thought you liked PE? Who said I was complaining?
HAYLEY DRUMS NAILS
Hayley! What?
This year's school play
is Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat.
Oh, I love that. Come on, Ands!
# Ease on down Ease on down the road! #
Hayley, any eejit knows
that's from the seminal black-sploitation, The Wiz.
Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber, book by God.
You don't have to go to no Madame Darcy's
to prove your prowess on the stage.
When are the auditions, lover?
After school tomorrow in the Terry Waite annex.
That reminds me, that radiator's playing up. Oh, and listen to this.
"Girls, please wear short skirts and see-through bras?"
No, "Please could plenty of boys attend.
"We don't want a repeat of last year". What did they do last year?
Seven Brides For Seven Brides.
Oh, yeah? Yeah, it was like feckin' do-si-do night at Greenham Common.
Hey, don't knock the sisterhood.
We did a lot of good work in them tents.
Hayley, you grew a beard.
I only have to sniff a dungaree and I'm back there.
# Only women bleed
SHE DRUMS NAILS
# Only women bleed... #
Hayley, I'm trying to think. And can you stop strumming.
Now come on, how are we going to give Simon the edge
over all the other auditionees?
Debbie, what are you doing under my skirt?
# I closed my eyes
# Drew back the curtain Ah-ah-ah
# To... # Ow!
Oh... 'For now, it would appear that' my mother's purpose in life...
Help! '..was to be the ultimate showbiz mum.'
Gate, Ashlene.
Walk on, Simon.
But what she hadn't bargained for
was all the other kids in our street auditioning as well.
# The sun'll come out tomorrow
# Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
# There'll be sun... # Batty boy, do you want your gym bag?
# Just thinking about tomorrow
# Clears away the cobwebs And the sorrow till there's none
# When I'm stuck in a day That's grey and lonely
# I just stick out my chin And grin and say... #
Come on, Simon. Practice. # Ohhh... #
# Take that look off your face... # Join in, Ashlene. Piss off.
# I can see through your smile
BOTH: You would love to be right
# I bet you didn't sleep good last night
# Couldn't wait to bring all Tomorrow...
# Of that bad news to my door
# Well, I've got news for you... Tomorrow... #
I'm not with you!
# Don't tell me not to live Just sit and putter
# Life's candy And the sun's a ball of butter
# Don't bring around the cloud To rain on my parade... #
Sing out, Imelda!
# Don't tell me not to fly Tomorrow...
# I've simply got to Tomorrow...
# If someone takes a spill It's me and not you
# Who told you you're allowed...
# Take that look of your face...
..To rain on my parade... #
# Only women bleed, only women bleed
# Only women bleed... #
# I've simply got to march My heart's a drummer!
# Don't bring around the cloud To rain on my parade... #
# Tomorrow... #
# Don't tell me not to live Just sit and putter
ALL: # Ease on down Ease on down the road
# Ease on down Ease on down the road
# Ease on down Ease on down the road... #
Fuck me. All we need is a yellow taxi.
Be like the kids from friggin' Fame.
SINGING CONTINUES
Mr Bell, the drama teacher, was light years ahead of his time.
DRAMATIC MUSIC
So, who's got through?
Who's going to be my Joseph?
Jasbinder Sahota, step forward.
Useless waste of space.
Get out of my face, you talentless piece of shit!
Pastel Blue Cummings, step forward.
See, I think my Carl's going to play Joseph on account
of he's actually a direct descendent
of Ol' Man River himself, Paul Robeson.
Ain't never even heard of Paul Robeson, Debbie?
You is either a h'ignorant or a racist.
Well, I ain't no racist, Reba.
Well, I guess that makes you a h'ignorant.
Oh, I ain't a "h'ignorant", Reba.
You're the one who's a "h'ignorant".
Is that a-right? Yeah.
You ever heard of a Hattie Jacques?
Course, I have, Debbie. You's wearing one of her dresses, innit?
Here they come! How did you get on?
Are you Joseph? No.
Are you Joseph? No. Well, who is then?
# I close my eyes... #
SHE SCREAMS
You want to suck on a Trebor, love.
A girl's playing Joseph?
Who does this Mr Bell think he is?
Does he not know that you stayed up half the night ripping up
my old gypsy skirt to make a stunning coat of many colours?
Simon's playing one of Potiphar's servants.
I lost my virginity in that skirt.
A glorified extra. Back of a Ford Capri.
I feel like putting a gun to my head.
Well, he said it was a Ford Capri.
I think it had a whiff of Fiat Panda.
Nice furry dice, though.
Big. Shut up, Hayley.
Oh, it's like that film the other day.
When we're older, we're going to move where?
London. And move amongst what?
Beautiful people.
And we'll be top West End stars
in our own top West End show that we've written.
Showing off all of our talents called...called...
Ab Fab, The Musical.
I'll be Joanna Lumley. "Sch-wing"!
And you can be June Whitfield.
And Imelda will be bottom of the bill.
And while we were realising that being usurped by a diva
was going to be our destiny...
Hurry up, mother!
You are making me late.
..Mum was having a midlife crisis.
Sorry, baby. Should she be a charity worker?
You know, low lights would really bring out the shape of your face.
An intellectual?
Or maybe even a food critic.
Mr Popadopoulous's latest endeavour gets your taste buds tingling.
But those with sensitive aesthetic tendencies
may mourn the absence of a shiny banquette.
And those with false nails may struggle with the cutlery.
I told you they were too long.
Oh... That girl's wearing sunglasses indoors.
God, that is so pretentious.
Or is she blind?
Nah, she's pretentious.
Oh, it's her! Who? Joseph.
Oh!
"If you can read this, thank a teacher."
Are you taking the piss?
I didn't know Imelda's dad was a teacher.
Didn't know she had a dad. She hasn't.
He died of diphtheria in the Dordogne.
She says it's what makes her an artiste.
She was with a bloke.
He had a sticker on his bag, "If you can read this, thank a teacher".
Mr Bell's got one of those. On his bag?
He was probably giving her notes.
Notes? On her performance.
He was giving her more than notes. He
was giving her a kiss.
Up straight. Point towards the gods.
OK, up, up... pantings, quivering, more quivering...
Finally my mother had found her purpose in life...
Did they have inhalers in Joseph's day, hmm? No, it looks ridiculous.
Method, method, method. Come on.
..to be an interventionist social worker.
Or in other words, a common or garden fishwife.
Oh, so it is you.
You and your bloody briefcase.
I've seen you. And you are?
Doonan. Debbie Doonan.
Mother of one of Potiphar's servants.
I've been demoted to quivering palm tree.
How can I help you, mother of quivering palm tree?
I know exactly why you cast that talentless jailbait as Joseph.
Because she's good? Cos you're grooming her.
For stardom? Oh, don't get
funny with me, Roger De Courcy.
I've got your number and I'm going to be on to Social Services.
What you on about?
Oh, that poor innocent child.
I really have no idea what you're talking about.
I saw you. Saw me what? Kissing her.
Touching her up the greasy spoon. What kind of man are you?
Oh, how does your sordid mind work? You can't fool me.
I've put a note through her door.
Her mother will know exactly what's going on when she gets back.
I beg your pardon? She's gone to a Macrame Convention in Slough.
My relationship with Imelda is not inappropriate.
You think it's normal? I'm going to heave.
My daughter warned me about you.
Imelda is my goddaughter.
Beg your pardon? My goddaughter.
Her father Colin was my best
friend at university...until he died
of pancreatitis in the Pyrenees.
I thought it was diphtheria in the Dordogne.
Sorry? Nothing.
Why am I telling you this?
What you saw in the greasy spoon was completely innocent and above board.
A hug and a kiss?
It was the anniversary of her father's death and she was upset.
Oh, yeah? Yes.
You ask her mother if you don't believe me.
I'll see myself out.
As you were.
The next time you wish to make slanderous accusations about me,
I suggest you consult a lawyer and the facts first.
Oh, well, at least we got to the bottom of why you cast her in the role of Joseph.
Nepotism is alive and well and living in Reading.
I cast her cos she's the best person for the job.
What's wrong with my son?
He's too effeminate.
So he called your son effeminate?
Yes. And is he?
Effeminate-sheminate.
'I always thought my mother was Jewish.'
# Papa, can you hear me?
# Papa, can you see me?
# Papa, can you find me In the night? #
Calling him that in front of the kids. What sort of example's that?
An example you set?
Bit of an old hand at this, aren't you, Mrs Doonan?
You tell me, Julian Bravo.
Quite a lot of notes on your file.
I'm a fine outstanding member of the community.
Which one? The Mafia?
Says here you were involved in an incident a few years back
at the Oracle Shopping Centre.
Oracle-schmoracle.
Stop that. We know you're not Jewish.
You're anti-semantic. You'll be saying there was no holocaust next.
Shame on you, PC Plod.
Do you care to recall what happened
at the Oracle-schmoracle Shopping Centre?
I threw an egg at Margaret Thatcher.
Big deal. But you missed, didn't you?
And hit a policeman.
You win some, you lose some.
This policeman.
I thought I recognised that dandruff.
It wasn't any old egg, was it?
It was a Cadbury's Creme Egg and they're quite hard.
And his eye came up like a football.
A golf ball, the judge said.
Kind of like a...satsuma.
Are you going to charge me or not? That's kind of up to Mr Bell.
I'll sort it.
I'm very close with all my neighbours. First name terms.
Abigail Jo, Abigail Jo?
It's Kathy, Brenda.
I'm Debbie. I know.
Anyway, Kelly, can I have a word?
You know what they're calling you?
Mike Tyson in a skirt.
It's a skort, actually.
A cross between a skirt and shorts.
Functional yet forgiving. Mitzy Lou, I just want to say I'm sorry.
I was completely out of order thumping your friend
and I got you this.
Thought you might be interested. It's called Making Friends With Macrame.
Only problem is it is a library book so I would need it back.
If it's any good, I thought I could buy you a copy.
I've already got it, actually.
I got the wrong end of the shtick, Donna Marie.
I'm sorry. I thought he was abusing her.
Oh, well. I suppose I should appreciate your concern, Magda Jane,
although you do have a bit of a round-about way of expressing it.
I'll have a word with Tristram.
Great. Who's Tristram?
Mr Bell.
It's weird when you find out teachers' first names, innit?
Yeah. We had this teacher once, Miss Majacksy,
and we found out her first name was Pat. Pat Majacksy.
Which is weird cos she did actually once pat my jacksy after netball.
Anyway, Cherish Anita...
Oh...Sapphire Griselda...
You always look so fabulous.
Never a hair out of place.
Got that right, babes.
I might be a bit more inclined to have a word with Tristram
if you gave me a makeover in time for first night.
Oh, OK. Then maybe we could all go and see Joseph together.
Oh, didn't you hear?
Joseph's off. He's quite highly strung, old Tristram.
Right, that's it. As of now, the show is off!
Screw you and your sodding parents.
Screw the lot of you. I quit!
So there's no school play, Jemima Anoushka?
Got it in one, Frogmella Umbunga.
But the new PE teacher's come up with this great idea
of putting on a talent evening,
so my baby will have her moment in the sun. Oh.
You might know her actually, this new PE teacher.
Older lady. Quite Asian.
Miss Majacksy.
Imelda...
I'm sorry about my mum and that.
I'm sorry you've got a mum like that.
What are you going to do for Talent Night? The Magic Of The Musicals.
A Journey Through The West End.
If you're going to do something from Joseph...
..do you want this?
It's couture.
I'd rather eat my own body weight in razor blades.
And in case you were wondering, yes, that did hurt.
I'm sure she didn't do it on purpose.
This is all my fault for smacking that teacher. Let's see.
HE SCREAMS
Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Can't look that bad, surely?
I don't think you're going to be making opening night.
Fetch me a looking glass.
What? He means mirror. Hurry up.
Oh, my beautiful baby boy.
He's 13, Tabitha. Don't infantilise him.
God, you lot don't half overreact.
Right.
Take a deep breath, kidder.
And in that moment, I discovered what it's actually like...
..to be sick at the sight of yourself.
I can't get up on stage in front of people like this, Kylie.
Oh, you can.
You make sure you can.
The show must go on, girlfriend.
And we'll make sure bitch face gets her just desserts.
Thanks to Imelda's mum,
my mum had finally found
her true purpose in life.
To look fabulous at all times
and inspire others with her unique sense of style.
And Auntie Hayley discovered that if you wear six-inch nails,
you can't read Braille.
Aargh!
MUSIC PLAYS
Kylie and I on the other hand, discovered our inner Barbie.
BOTH: # I'm a Barbie girl In a Barbie world
# Life in plastic, it's fantastic
# Come on Barbie, let's go party
# Ha, ha, ha, yeah
# Come on Barbie, let's go party
Ooo-oh, ooo-oh... #
APPLAUSE
You must be so proud, Libby Lobelia.
# May I return to the beginning
# The light is dimming
# And the dream is too
# The world and I... #
You all right, Miss Majacksy?
# ..Still waiting, still hesitating
# Any dream will do... #
I also discovered Kylie was a true friend.
# ..My amazing coloured coat
# Give me my coloured coat
# My amazing coloured coat... #
SHE SCREAMS
MOTHER SCREAMS
Extra strong mint, Tammy Fay?
You traumatised her.
She's had to change schools cos of you.
Lucky bitch.
'We all of course learnt that
'everything comes to those who grate.'
My face soon cleared up and my nose was fine.
It was years later I got it broken,
when I was a set dresser on Live With Loretta.
Hiya. And welcome back.
In a few minutes we're going to meet the actress
who this year won the Olivier Award for her portrayal
as President's wife Laura Bush
in the brand new musical, Your America, My Bush.
That's Imelda Brownlowe.
When a blast from the past
came back to slap me in my hitherto flawless face.
Oi, Barbie Girl!
Imelda!
Have you had some work?
'Literally.'
Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd
E-mail subtitling@bbc.co.uk