Last Episode Only Fools And Horses

So, picture this: it’s Christmas 1996, and I’m twelve years old, crammed onto the sofa with my dad and a plate of cold turkey sandwiches. We’re watching the final episode of Only Fools and Horses, and my dad—a man who never cries—is suddenly blinking a lot. I looked at him and asked, “You got something in your eye?” He just grunted, “Dusty in here.” Yeah, right. That moment stuck with me, because it wasn’t just a sitcom ending; it felt like saying goodbye to a weird, loud-mouthed uncle you secretly adored.

And honestly, that’s exactly what “Time on Our Hands” was all about: the bittersweet ache of closure. The episode, which aired on December 29, 1996, wasn’t just a finale—it was a cultural event that made half of Britain collectively lose its mind. (Side note: if you weren’t alive then, just imagine the Super Bowl, but with more dodgy market stalls and fried egg sandwiches.) It promised us that Del Boy and Rodney would finally, finally catch a break, and boy, did it deliver.

The Setup: A Chandelier, A Mistake, and Millions

The plot is deceptively simple: the Trotters find a lost French chandelier worth millions in a disused warehouse. But you know it’s never that easy with these two. Del, in his infinite wisdom, almost sells it for a few hundred quid to a dodgy bloke named Boycie. (I mean, classic Del, right? Always a plan, always a disaster.)

Only, the joke flips on its head. The chandelier is actually a genuine artifact from the 18th century, and they become millionaires—overnight. I remember literally shouting at the telly, “You idiots, it’s worth a fortune!” But then the silence hit me. You see, this was the moment we’d been waiting for since 1981. Fifteen years of “next year, we’ll be millionaires,” and it finally happened. It felt like winning the lottery yourself, but also like losing your favorite pair of jeans.

The Car Scene: Why We All Cried

But here’s where the magic really happens—the final scene in the car. Del and Rodney are sitting in the Reliant Regal, having just lost everything because of a stupid investment in a mortgage company. (Narrator: it wasn’t a mortgage company; it was a bank selling their house out from under them.) They’re broke again, arguing about turn signals, when Del suddenly says, “This time next year, we’ll be billionaires.”

Series 6 Final Episode! | Only Fools and Horses | BBC Comedy Greats

And Rodney, with a quiet smile, replies, “Yeah.” That one word—that tiny, defeated yet hopeful “yeah”—is the entire soul of the show. It’s not about the money. It’s about two brothers who will never, ever give up on their ridiculous dream, even when the universe keeps kicking them in the teeth. I’m not kidding, I welled up then, and I’m welling up now typing this. (It’s fine, I’m just allergic to nostalgia.)

The Real Ending We Forgot

Fun fact: that 1996 episode was supposed to be the absolute end. John Sullivan, the writer, said he wanted to give them a happy ending and close the book. But then, seven years later, they returned for three special episodes in 2001-2003, “If They Could See Us Now,” “Strangers on the Shore,” and “Sleepless in Peckham.” And guess what? Those later specials are fine, but they don’t hold a candle to the 1996 finale.

Only Fools and Horses - Full Cast & Crew - TV Guide

Why? Because the car scene was pure poetry. The later episodes gave us a different ending—one where Del and Rodney scored millions again, but with a new family dynamic and a slightly forced happy-birthday-pie-in-the-sky vibe. It felt like when you reopen a great book and realize the ending you loved has been edited. (Sorry, Sullivan, but you should have left it alone. Yes, I said it.)

Why We Still Talk About It

Look, Only Fools worked because it wasn’t polish and grandeur; it was chipped mugs and burnt toast. Del Boy wasn’t a hero—he was a wheeler-dealer in a sheepskin coat who thought “cognac” was a new type of cheese. But he loved his brother, and he never, ever stopped hoping. That finale taught us that success isn’t about the money—it’s about the journey, even if that journey involves falling through a bar and selling fake Russian dolls.

So, next time you’re feeling down about your own life, remember Del and Rodney in that tatty three-wheeler. They lost everything, they gained everything, and they’re still driving around Peckham at 3 AM, arguing about the A-Z. And you know what? That’s not a failure. That’s a win. (Now, excuse me while I go find that dusty box of tissues. My dad was right—it’s always dusty in here.)