[Terry Bowen has bought a seaside cottage, which he's planning rent out to holidaymakers and has arrived at the property to evict the current tenant]
Terry Bowen: Come on, come on! I know you're in there. Come on, open the door, I'll kick the bloody thing in!
[a man in the garden of the house nearby the cottage peers over the hedge at Bowen, Bowen stares back and the other man looks away. He turns back to see a man inside the house peering through a window in the door]
Terry Bowen: Come on, come on, open up!
[the door opens and the man stands in the doorway]
Mr. King: Yes?
Terry Bowen: Mr King?
Mr. King: Yes?
Terry Bowen: My name's Bowen. Terry Bowen.
[Mr King doesn't answer. Bowen spells out his surname in a loud voice, because he thinks the old man is deaf and/or hard of hearing]
Terry Bowen: Bowen, B-O-W-E-N. I own this cottage.
Mr. King: Oh, no, no. No, this cottage belongs to the farm.
Terry Bowen: Not any more it doesn't. This is an order for you to vacate the property.
Mr. King: I... I don't understand.
Terry Bowen: You don't understand? Then you should've listened to the other men who came to see you, shouldn't you?
[Mr King tries to shut the door, but Bowen puts his foot into the gap]
Terry Bowen: Listen, I want you out of here, double bloody quick!
Mr. King: I've always lived here.
Terry Bowen: Well, I'm sorry, Grandad, but when the law says you've got to go, you've got to go! This is a holiday cottage and it belongs to me. So out you go! On your bike or you're not going to like what happens to you, Grandad, got it?