Withnail and I
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- moth0
That's it.
Really.
Rasko has just ruined it.
Ruined!
One quote too many.
I'll never see this film again.
- moth0
In fact, someone post the screenplay and get it out of your systems hey?
- kelpie0
well if you can't beat em, Moth, post the entire script...
- lowimpakt0
"My heart's beating like a fucked clock"
i know that feeling - neo-rave hysteria
- moth0
I'm going for a cup of tea.
Do you want one?- Do you want a cup of tea, Withnail?
- No.Thirteen million
Londoners have to wake up to this.The murder and all-bran
and rape?And I'm sitting in this bloody shack,
and I can't cope with Withnail.I must be out of my mind.
I must go home at once and
discuss his problems in depth.I have some extremely
distressing news.I don't want to hear it.
I don't want to hear anything.My God, it's a nightmare,
let me tell you. It's a nightmare.We've just run out of wine.
What are we gonna do about it?I don't know.
I don't know.Oh, God!
I don't feel good.My thumbs have gone weird!
I'm in the middle
of a bloody overdose.Oh, God!
My heart's beating
like a fucked clock!I feel dreadful.
I feel really dreadful.So do I.
So does everybody.Look at my tongue.
Gray yellow sock.
Sit down, for Christ's sake.
What's the matter with you?Eat some sugar.
Listen to this.
"Curse of the supermen."'I took drugs to win medal,'
says top athleteJeff Wode.- Where's the coffee?
- "In a world exclusive interview," -year-old shot putterJeff Wode,
who weighs pounds,"admitted taking massive doses
of anabolic steroids,"drugs banned in sport.
"'He used to get in bad tempers,'
says his wife."'He used to pick on me.
But now he's stopped,he's much better in our sex
life and in our general life."'Jesus Christ!
This huge, thatched head...with its earlobes and cannonball
is not considered sane."Jeff Wode is feeling better...
and is now prepared
to step back into society
and start tossing his orb about."Look at him!
Look at Jeff Wode!His head must weigh
pounds on its own.Imagine the size of his balls.
Imagine getting into a fight
with the fucker.Please, I don't feel good.
That's what you'd say.
But that wouldn't wash with Jeff.No. He'd like a bit of pleading.
Adds spice to it.In fact, he'd probably tell you
what he was gonna do before he did it."I'm gonna pull your head off."
"No, please don't pull my head off."
"I'm gonna pull your head off
because I don't like your head."Have you got soup?
Why didn't I get any soup?Coffee.
Why don't you use a cup
like any other human being?Why don't you wash up occasionally
like any other human being?How dare you!
How dare you!How dare you
call me inhumane!I didn't call you inhumane.
You merely imagined it. Calm down.Right, you fucker.
I'm gonna do the washing up.No, no, you can't.
It's impossible, I swear.I've looked into it.
Listen to me! Listen to me!There are things in there.
There's a tea bag growing.You haven't slept in hours.
You're in no state to tackle it.Wait till the morning.
We'll go in together.This is the morning!
Stand aside!You don't understand! I think
there may be something living in there.I think there may be
something alive.- What do you mean? A rat?
- It's possible.Then the fucker
will rue the day.Oh, Christ Almighty!
A sinew in nicotine base.Keep back, keep back.
The entire sink's gone rotten.I don't know what's in here.
I told you, you've been bitten!
Burnt! Burnt!
The fucking kettle's on fire!- There's something floating up.
- Fork it!- L-l-I don't...
- You must! You must!The poop will boil through the glaze.
We'll never be able to use
our dinner service again.Here. Get it with the pliers.
No, no. No, no.
Give me the gloves.That's right.
Put on the gloves.Don't attempt anything
without the gloves.- Ugh.
- What is it? What have you found?Matter.
Matter?
Where's it coming from?Don't look.
I'm dealing with it.I think we've been
in here too long.I feel unusual.
I think we should go outside.This is ridiculous.
Look at me.I'm in a month, and I've got
a sole flapping off my shoe.It will get better.
It has to.Easy for you to say, lovey.
You've had an audition.Why can't I have an audition?
It's ridiculous. I've been
to drama school. I'm good-looking.I tell you,
I've a fuck sight more talent than half
the rubbish that gets on television.Why can't I get on television?
I don't know.
It'll happen.Will it?
That's what you say.The only program I'm likely to get on
is the fucking news.I tell you, I can't take
much more of this.- I'm gonna crack.
- I'm in the same boat.Yeah, yeah.
I feel as sick as a pike.
I'm gonna have to sit down.
You know what we should do?
I say, you know
what we should do?How can I possibly know
what we should do?- What should we do?
- Get out of it for a while.Get into the countryside,
rejuvenate.Rejuvenate? I'm in a park,
and I'm practically dead.What good's the countryside?
- What time is it?
- It's : .Four hours till opening time.
God help us.Have we got any embrocation?
- What for?
- To rub on us, you fool.We can cover ourselves in Deep Heat
and get up against the radiator,keep ourselves alive till : .
Jesus, look at that!
Apart from a raw potato,
that's the only solid...to have passed my lips
in the last hours.I must be ill.
Even a stopped clock
gives the right time twice a day.And for once, I'm inclined to
believe that Withnail is right.We are, indeed, drifting
into the arena of the unwell,making an enemy
of our own future.What we need is harmony,
fresh air, stuff like that.
Wasn't much in the tube.
Nothing left for you.Why don't you ask your father
for some money?If we had some money,
we could go away.Why don't you ask your father?
How can it be so cold in here?Like Greenland in here.
We've got to get some booze. It's
the only solution for this intense cold.Something's got to be done.
We can't go on like this!I'm a trained actor
reduced to the status of a bum!I mean, look at us!
Nothing that reasonable members
of society demand as their rights!No fridges, no televisions,
no phones!Much more of this, I'm gonna
apply for Meals On Wheels.- What happened
to your cigar commercial?
- That's what I want to know.What happened to my agent?
Bastard must have died.September. Bad patch.
Rubbish. I haven't seen Gielgud
down the Labor Exchange.Why doesn't he retire?
Oh, look at this little bastard!
"Boy lands plum role
for top Italian director."'Course he does. Probably
on a tenner a day, and I know what for.Two pound ten a tit,
and a fiver for his arse.- Have you been at the controls?
- What are you talking about?The thermostats!
What have you done to them?- I haven't touched them.
- Then why has my head gone numb?I must have some booze.
I demand to have some booze!
- I wouldn't drink that if I was you.
- Why not?Because I don't advise it.
Even the wankers on the site wouldn't
drink that. That's worse than meths.Nonsense. This is a far
superior drink to meths.Wankers don't drink it
because they can't afford it.Have we got any more?
Liar!
What's in your toolbox?No, we have nothing.
Sit down.Liar!
You've got antifreeze.You bloody fool.
You should never mix your drinks!All right, this is the plan.
We'll get in there and get wrecked.Then we'll eat a pork pie. Then we'll
drop a couple of Surmontil s each.Means we'll miss out Monday
but come up smiling Tuesday morning.- What's that appalling smell?
- Perfume on my boots.I had to scrub them
with essence of petunia.Two large gins, two pints of cider,
ice in the cider.If my father was loaded,
I'd ask him for some money.If your father was my
father, you wouldn't get it.- Here you are, lads.
- Chin-chin.Ugh!
What about what's-his-name?
- What about him?
- Why don't you give him a call?- What for?
- Ask him about his house.You want me to call what's-his-name
and ask him about his house?- Why not?
- All right. What's his number?I have no idea.
I've never met him.Well, neither have I.
Who the fuck are you talking about?Your relative with the house
in the country.- Monty? Uncle Monty?
- Same. That's the one.Get theJag fixed up,
spend a week in the country.All right. Give us a tanner,
and I'll give him a bell.Here. Get a couple more.
I'm going for a slash.Ponce.
I could hardly
piss straight with fear.A man with three-quarters of an inch
of brain had taken a dislike to me.What have I done to offend him?
I don't consciously offend
big men like this.And this one has a definite
imbalance of hormone in him.Get any more masculine than him,
you'd have to live up a tree."I fuck arses."
Who fucks arses?Maybe he fucks arses.
Maybe he's written this in some
moment of drunken sincerity?I'm in considerable
danger in here.I must get out of here at once.
Perfumed ponce!
You'll be pleased to hear
Monty's invited us for drinks.Balls to Monty.
We're getting out.Balls to Monty? I already spent
an hour flattering the bugger.There's a man over there doesn't like
the perfume. A big one. Don't look.We're in danger.
We've got to get out.- What are you talking about?
- I've been called a ponce.What fucker said that?
I called him a ponce,
and now I'm calling you one.
Ponce!
Would you like a drink?
What's your name? McFuck?
I have a heart condition.
I have a heart condition.If you hit me, it's murder.
I'll murder the pair of yous!
My wife is having a baby.
Listen, I don't know what my...
acquaintance did to upset you,but it's nothing to do with me.
I suggest you both go outside...
and discuss it sensibly
in the street.Out of my way!
Speed is like
a dozen transatlantic flights...without ever
getting off the plane.Time change.
You lose. You gain.Makes no difference, so long
as you keep taking the pills.But sooner or later,
you gotta get out...because it's crashing,
and all at once
those frozen hours...melt through
the nervous system...and seep out the pores.
Bastards! Just to suck...
some miserable cheap cigar,
and the bastards won't see me.Why are we having lunch in here?
It's dinner, and Danny's here.
Danny?
How did he get in?I let him in this morning.
He lost one of his clogs.He's come in because
of this perpetual cold.Oh, I hope
tobacco sales plummet.I've got your saveloy.
Here. I don't want it.Then stick it in a soap tray
and save it for later.Don't vent spleen on me!
I'm in the same boat!Stop saying that!
You're not in the same boat.The only thing you're in that
I have been in is this fucking bath!Danny's here.
Headhunter to his friends.Headhunter to everybody.
He doesn't have any friends.The only people
he converses with...are his clients
and occasionally the police.The purveyor of rare herbs and
prescribed chemicals is back.Will we never be set free?
- Danny.
- You're looking very beautiful, man.Have you been away?
St. Peter preached the epistles
to the apostles looking like that.Have you got any food?
Mmm. As a matter of fact,
I got a saveloy.How much is it?
You can have it for nothing.
- I see you're wearing a suit.
- What's it got to do with you?No need to get uptight, man.
I was merely making an observation.I happened to be looking for a suit
for the Coalman two weeks ago.For reasons I can't really
discuss with you...the Coalman
had to go toJamaica.Got busted coming back
through Heathrow.Had a weight under his fez.
We worked out, it would be very handy
karma for him to get hold of a suit.But he's a very low-temperature
spade, the Coalman.Goes into court
in his caftan and a bell.This doesn't go down at all well.
They can handle the caftan,
but they can't handle the bell.So there's this judge sitting there
in the cape like fucking Batman...- with this really
rather far-out looking hat...
- Wig.No, man. This was more
like a long white hat.So he looks at the Coalman
and says,"What's all this? This is a court,
man. This ain't fancy dress."And the Coalman
looks at him and says,"You think you look normal,
Your Honor?"Cunt give him two years.
I'm afraid I can't offer
you gentlemen anything.That's all right, Danny.
We decided to lay off for a bit.That's what I thought. Except
for personal use, I concur with you.As a matter of fact, I'm thinking
of retiring and going into business.Doing what?
- The toy industry.
- I thought you
were in the bottle industry.No, man. That's a sideline.
You can have that.Instructions are included.
Yeah, my partner's got a really
good idea for making dolls.His name's Presuming Ed.
His sister give him the idea.She got a doll on Christmas
what pisses itself.- Really?
- Yeah, and you gotta
change its drawers for it.It's horrible, really.
But they like that, little girls.So we're gonna make one
that shits itself as well.- Shits itself?
- He's an expert.He's building the prototype now.
Why is he behaving so uptightly?
Because a gang
of cheeroot vendors considered
a haircut beyond my abilities.I don't advise a haircut, man.
All hairdressers are
in the employment of the government.Hair are your aerials.
They pick up signals
from the cosmos...and transmit them
directly into the brain.This is the reason
bald-headed men are uptight.What absolute twaddle.
- Has he just been busted?
- No.Then why is he wearing
that old suit?Old suit? This suit
was cut by Hawke's of Savile Row.Just because the best tailoring
you've ever seen is above your fucking
appendix doesn't mean anything!Don't get uptight with me, man.
'Cause if you do, I'll have to
give you a dose of medicine.And if I spike you, you'll know
you've been spoken to.You wouldn't spike me.
You're too mean.Besides, there's nothing
invented I couldn't take.If I medicined you, you'd think
a brain tumor was a birthday present.I could take double
anything you could.Very, very foolish words, man.
He's right, Withnail.
Look at him.His mechanism's gone. He's had
more drugs than you've had hot dinners.I'm not having this
shag sack insulting me.Let him get his drugs out.
This doll
is extremely dangerous.It has voodoo qualities.
Trade,
"Phenodihydrochrolide benzorex."Street, "the embalmer."
Balls! I'll swallow it
and run a mile.Cool your boots, man.
This pill's valued at two quid.- Two quid? You're out of your mind.
- That's sense, Withnail.You can stuff it
up your arse for nothing
and fuck off while you're doing it!No need to insult me, man.
I was leaving anyway.Have either of you got shoes?
Monty's car.
Oh, hello! Come in.
Sit down, do.
Would you like a drink?- Sherry.
- Sherry.- Sherry?
- Sherry.Sherry.
Do you like vegetables?
I've always been fond
of root crops,but I only started
to grow last summer.I happen to think the cauliflower
more beautiful than the rose.Chin-chin.
- Do you grow?
- Geraniums.Little traitors.
I think the carrot infinitely
more fascinating than the geranium.Mmm. The carrot has mystery.
Flowers are essentially tarts,
prostitutes for the bees.
There is, you will agree,
a certain "je ne sai quoi,"something very special
about a firm, young carrot.Hmm, excuse me.
Do help yourselves to another drink.
What's all this?
The man's mad.- Eccentric.
- Eccentric? He's insane!Not only that,
he's a raving homosexual.You beastly little parasite!
How dare you?You little thug!
How dare you!Beastly, ungrateful little swine!
- Shall I get you a drink?
- Yes, yes, yes, please, dear boy.You can prepare me a small
rhesus-negative Bloody Mary.You must tell me all the news.
I haven't seen you since you
finished your last show.Rather busy, Uncle.
TV and stuff.My agent's attempting to edge me
towards Royal Shakespeare Company again.- Oh, splendid.
- And he's just had an audition for rep.Oh, splendid!
So you're a Thespian too?Monty used to act.
One hardly says that.
I cracked the boards in my youth,
but I never really had it in my blood.And that's what's
so essential, isn't it?The theatrical zeal in the veins.
Alas, I have little more
than vintage wine and memories.It is the most shattering experience
of a young man's life...when one morning he awakes
and quite reasonably says to himself,"I will never play the Dane."
When that moment comes,
one's ambition ceases.
Don't you agree?
- It's a part I intend to play, Uncle.
- And you'll be marvelous.Marvelous.
"It's gone.
"We do it wrong,
being so ma'jestical...to offer it
the show of violence."Let's go. He's a madman.
Any minute now, he's gonna rush out
and get into his tights.- Okay, okay. Any minute.
- The house or out.Could I have a word
with you, Monty?Oh, forgive me, dear boy.
Forgive me.I was allowing memory
to have the better of me.Shall I get you a topper?
Indeed, I remember my first agent.
Raymond Duck.
He was a dreadful little Israelite.
Four floors up
on the Charing Cross Road,and never a job
at the top of them.I'm told you're a writer too.
Do you write poems?
No. I wish I could.
It's just thoughts, really.- Are you published?
- Oh, no.Where did you school?
He went to the other place, Monty.
Oh, you went to Eton?
Get that damned little
swine out of here!It's trying to get itself in with you.
It's trying for even more advantage.It's obsessed with its gut.
It's like a bloody rugby ball now.- It will die! It will die!
- Monty. Monty.No, no, dear boy.
You must leave.Yet again, that oaf
has destroyed my day.Listen, Monty. Could I just have
a quick word with you? In private?Oh... very well.
- Good night, my dears.
- Good night, Monty.What's all this
going off in private business?
Why did you tell him I went to Eton?Because it wouldn't
have helped if I hadn't.I'm just trying to establish you
in some sort of context he'd understand.- What do you mean by that?
- I mean, free
to those who can afford it.Very expensive
to those that can't."All Along the Watchtower"]
- Scrubbers!
- Up yours, Granddad!- Scrubbers! Scrubbers!
- Shut up!Little tarts.
They love it.I'm trying to drive this thing
as quietly as possible.If you don't shut up,
we'll get stopped by the police.- Give me the bottle.
- Look at that. Look at that."Accident black spot."
These aren't accidents!They're throwing themselves
into the road! Gladly!Throwing themselves into the road
to escape all this hideousness!Throw yourself
into the road, darling!You haven't got a chance!
At some point or another,
I want to stop and get hold of a child.What do you want a child for?
To tutor it in the ways
of righteousness...and procure some
uncontaminated urine.This is a device enabling the drunken
driver to operate in absolute safety.You fill this with piss,
take this pipe down the trouser...and cellotape this valve
to the end of the old chap.Then you get horribly drunk,
and they can't fucking touch you.According
to these instructions,you refuse everything
but a urine sample.You undo your valve...
and give 'em a dose
of unadulterated child's piss,and they have to give you
your keys back.Danny's a genius.
I'm gonna have a doze.- Are we there?
- No, we're not. We're here.We're in the middle
of a fucking gale.You'll have to keep
a look out your side.If you see anything, tell me.
Get hold of that map.- Where's the whiskey?
- What for?I got a bastard
behind the eyes.I can't take aspirins
without a drink.- Where's the aspirins?
- Probably in the bathroom.We've come out here in the middle
of nowhere without aspirins?- Where are we?
- How should I know where we are?I feel like a pig
shat in my head.Get hold of that map and look
for a place called Crow Crag.There must and shall be aspirin.
Give me the keys.
Get out of the way.If I don't get aspirin,
I shall die...here on this
fucking mountainside!Christ Almighty!
Monty.
- What are you doing?
- Sitting down to enjoy my holiday.Right. Now, we're gonna have to
approach this scientifically.First thing we've got to do
is get this fire alight.Then we split into two
fact-finding groups.I'll deal with the water
and other plumbing.You can check the fuel
and wood situation.- What's that?
- The fuel and wood situation.There's nothing out there
except a hurricane.- This place is uninhabitable.
- Give it a chance. It's got to warm up.Warm up? We may as well
sit around a cigarette.This is ridiculous.
We'll be found dead
in here next spring.I've got a blinding
fucking headache.We must have heat.
We've got to keep
this bastard burning.Well, we've got enough
furniture for tonight.Tomorrow we'll go down
that farm and get some logs.Mistake, I'm telling you.
This was a dreadful mistake.- Who's there?
- Me.What do you want?
I'm a friend of Montague Withnail's.
He's lent us his cottage.I wondered if you could
sell us some food... eggs and things.Hmm?
What about wood and coal?
I'm not from London, you know.
I don't care
where you come from!Not the attitude
I'd been given to expect...from the H.E. Bates novel
I'd read.I thought they'd all be out the back,
drinking cider, discussing butter.Clearly a myth.
Evidently, country people are
no more receptive to strangers
than city dwellers.Do you think you could tell me
where I could buy some coal and wood?You'll have to see me son.
He runs this farm.- Where is your son?
- Up in top fields.You can't miss him.
His leg's bound in polythene.Wake up, you bastard!
Wake up!Wake up, you bastard!
You gotta get wood.Jesus! You're covered in shit.
I tried to get the fuel and wood.
There's a miserable
little pensioner down there.- She wouldn't give it to me.
- Where are we gonna get it, then?There's a man on the mountain.
Why he's up there fuck knows.
But he's up there
with a leg in polythene.You can't miss him.
He's your man.And have another look
in that shed. Find anything.If you can't find anything,
bring in the shed.How come Monty owns
such a horrible little shack?No idea.
You never discuss
your family, do you?I fail to see my family
as of any interest to you.I have absolutely
no interest in yours.I dislike relatives in general,
my own in particular.- Why?
- Because... I've told you why.We're incompatible.
They don't like me being on stage.Then they must be delighted
with your career.- What do you mean?
- You rarely are.You just wait!
Just you wait!When I strike, they
won't know what hit them.Tractor approaching.
Now get after him.
That's the man.- Hey, stop!
- Stop!Stop! Please!
Stop, please!
Please stop!Please stop!
- Are you the farmer?
- Shut up! I'll deal with this!We've gone on holiday
by mistake.We're in this cottage here.
Are you the farmer?Stop saying that, Withnail!
Of course he's the fucking farmer!We're friends
of Montague Withnail.We desperately need
fuel and wood.Montague Withnail.
You must know him!Fat man, owns the cottage.
I seen a fat man.
London type. Queer sort.Think his name's French, or summit.
- French?
- Aye. Adriene De La Touche.He ain't been here
for a couple of years.- Last time I saw him
he was with his son.
- Yeah, that's him.Listen, we're bona fide.
We're not from London.
Could we have some fuel and wood?I could bring you some logs up later.
I've got the cows to feed first.- When?
- Shut up! That would be very kind.What about food? Do you think
you could sell us something to eat?I could bring you a chicken,
but you'll have to go to the village.- That would be very kind, Mr...
- Parkin.Mr. Parkin.
What happened to your leg?Got a randy bull up there.
Give me one in the knee.You wanna go out back?
Get some spuds up?Sorry, I can't.
My boots are in the oven.- You'd go if you had boots?
Gladly.
- I've got one!
- Great. How much do we owe you?
- Pay us when you come down.- What about this chicken?
- He's on the back.With. With.
Parkin's been.
There's our supper.- What are we supposed to do with that?
- Eat it.Eat it?
The fucker's alive.- Yeah, I know that.
You've gotta kill it.
- Me?- I'm fire lighter and fuel collector.
- Yeah, I know that,
but I got the logs in.It takes away your appetite
looking at it.No, it doesn't.
I'm starving.- How can we make it die?
- You have to throttle them.I think you should strangle it
instantly, in case it starts
to make friends with us.All right, get hold of it.
You hold it down. I'll strangle it.I can't. Those dreadful, beady eyes.
They stare you out.It's a bloody chicken! Just think
of it with bacon across its back.All right,
I'll deal with this.You'll have to get
its guts out.Never point guns at people!
It's extremely dangerous.What about this roasting dish?
What are we gonna cook it in?You're the food and plumbings man.
I have no idea.
I wish I'd found this an hour ago.I'd have taken great pleasure
in gunning this pullet down.- Shouldn't it be more bald than that?
- No, it shouldn't.Right. We're gonna
have to reverse the roles.We can bake the potatoes
in the oven...and we can boil
this bastard over the fire.- Let's get its feet off.
- No.It's gonna need its feet.
It can stand with its legs
on either side of that.I've already put
two shilling pieces in.No, I haven't got another.
It's not my fault
if the system doesn't work.The bitch hung up on me.
Hello? How are you?
Very well.
A what? Why
wouldn't they see me?This is ridiculous.
I haven't been up for a job
in three months!Understudy Constantine?
I'm not going to understudy Constantine.Why can't I play the part?
This is ridiculous.
No, I'm not in London.
Penrith.Penrith!
Well, what about TV?
Listen, I pay you
ten percent to do that.Well, lick ten percent
of the asses for me, then!Hello? Hello? Hello?
Hello? How dare you?
Fuck you!The bastard asked me to understudy
Constantine in The Seagull.I don't want to understudy anybody,
especially that little pimp.Anyway, I loathe
those Russian plays.Always full of women
staring out of windows,whining about ducks
going to Moscow.What do you think
of Desmond Wolfe?- In respect of what?
- I'm thinking of changing my name.It's too like Donald Wolfit.
Changeover point.
- Think he's happier than us?
- No.I suppose happiness
is relative.I never thought it would be
a polythene bag without a hole in it.- Hey!
- What's the matter with him?- Shut the gate!
- You didn't shut the gate!Stop that bull!
Stop that bull!
Grab its ring!
Keep your bag up!Out-mind him.
Hey, show no fear.
Just run at it.That can't be sensible, can it?
The bastard's about to run at me!- Well, he's randy!
- Yes, I know he is!Wants to get down there
and have sex with those cows.Shut up!
- Run at it, shouting!
- Do as he says, start shouting.- He won't gore you.
- A coward you are, Withnail!An expert on bulls
you are not!Shut that gate
and keep it shut!I think an evening at the Crow.
If the Crow and Crown
ever had life, it was dead now.It was like
walking into a lung,a sulfer-stained, nicotine
yellow and fly-blown lung.Its landlord was a retired alcoholic
with military pretensions...and a complexion
like the inside of a teapot.By the time the doors opened,
he was arse-holed on rum...and got progressively
more arse-holed...till he could take no more
We'll have another pair
of large scotches.Thought I was going
for a minute.No man's put me down yet.
Have you had any training
in the martial arts?Yes, as a matter of fact,
I have.Before I became a journalist,
I was in the Territorials.You know,
when you first came in,I knew you were a services man.
You could never, never disguise it.
- What were you in?
- Tanks.Africa Corps.
Little before your time.I don't suppose you've
engaged, have you?- Ireland.
- Ooh, crack at the Mick?We'll have another pair
of large scotches.These shall be my pleasure.
What are you doing
up here, then?We're doing
a feature for Country Life.Survey of rural types.
You know, farmers,
traveling tinkers,milkmen, that sort of thing.
Have you...
Have you metJake?
Poacher.
Works the lake.But, uh, keep it
under your hat, hmm?What's all this army bollocks?
We got a drink, didn't we?
Time, gentlemen.
I think he means it.
- Go ask him if we can have one.
- What for?So we can eat it.
We're fed up with stew!Excuse me.
Could we have an eel?- You've got eels down your leg.
- You leave them alone.Nothing down there
of interest to you.Help us out, Raymond.
These be fed
from asshole to beak.How about one of those pheasants?
Go on, ask him.Excuse me. We were wondering if we
could purchase a pheasant off of you?No. I've got nothing to sell.
Come on, old boy.
What's in your hump?Now look, you. Them pheasants are
for his pot. These here are for my pot.Now what makes you think I should
give you something for your pot?- What pot?
- Our cooking pot.He knows. Hey, give us
a wheeze on that fag.I might come and see you lads in a week.
I might fetch you up a rabbit.We don't want a rabbit.
We want a pheasant.Listen, you young prat.
I ain't got no pheasants.I ain't got no birds,
no more than you have.Of course you have.
You're the poacher.If I hear more words
out of you,I'll put one of these here
black pods on you.- Don't threaten me with a dead fish.
- Half dead, he may be.But I'll come up after you,
and I'll wake you up with a live one.Sod your pheasants!
You'll have to find us first.I know where you are,
at Crow Crag.I've been watching you.
Especially you,
prancing like a tit.You want working on, boy.
If I see that silage heap
hanging about up here,I'll take the bastard
axe to him!Bastards!
You'll all suffer!I'll show the lot of you!
I'm gonna be a star!
Vegetables again.
I'll be sprouting
bloody feelers soon.Must be sheep
out there on those volcanoes,and we got a plate
full of carrots.- There's black puddings in it.
- Black puddings are no good to us.I want something's flesh!
Look! Come here!
Down here. Look.Under the rock. I can see it.
See him? Look.
He's over there.
Look. Here.There's two of them here.
Look. Come on, come on.Where?
I think I'll call myself
Donald Twain.Stop. Get down.
It's him.
What does he want?- Go down there and ask him.
- Don't be a fool. He's got a gun.Bastard's psychotic.
You've only got to look at him.This place has become impossible.
Perpetual rain, freezing cold.
Now a bloody madman
on the prowl outside with eels.All right,
you made your point.We pack up.
We get out tomorrow.- What are you doing?
- I'm going for a slash.No, you're not. I can't get
my boots on when they're hot.- I'll go alone.
- You're not leaving me in here alone.- Those are the kind of windows
faces look in at.
- Then I won't have a slash.And in both our interests, I think
we should sleep together tonight.Don't be ridiculous.
He's not gonna come up here in the dark.Of course he is.
If he catches one of us,he's got a better chance
of dealing with the other.No.
What's the matter with you?
What are you laughing at?I was dreaming.
What do you want?You frightened the piss out of me.
Move over. I'm getting in.Oh, this is ridiculous.
I'll have to sleep in your bed.- I'll have to come with you.
- Will you get out?- No.
- All right, then I will.All right, you can stay,
but the gun doesn't.No. I have to keep the gun.
I intend to remain awake.- This is my bed,
and I demand precedence.
- No!Mad fucking bastard!
Shhh! Shhh!
- Listen.
- There is nothing! Get to bed!I heard a noise.
I must get in.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
- What was that?
- That's it. That's it.- What is it?
- It's the killer.- It's probably foxes looking for grub.
- Listen. Listen.Maybe it's the farmer.
At : in the morning?
It's the killer.He's come to kill us.
What are we gonna do?He wants to come in.
He's trying to get in.He can't. He'll go away.
He's going away.
This is all your fault.
You've even given him
the fucking gun.He's coming through the window.
He's getting in.- Give me the matches.
- Downstairs.He's in.
He's sharpening a fucking knife.We'll have to tackle him. You stay
in bed, pretending to be asleep.He'll go for you.
When he does, I'll jump on his back.No, no, no. It'll be too late.
I'll be knifed by then.We'll have to try
and make friends with him.They're going into your room.
It's you he wants.Offer him yourself.
We mean no harm!
Oh, my boys!
My boys! Forgive me!- Monty! Monty, Monty!
- Monty, you terrible cunt!Forgive me. It was inconsiderate
of me not to have telegrammed.What are you doing, prowling around
in the middle of the fucking night!I had a punctured tire.
I had to wait an eon for assistance.I'm sorry if I frightened you.
I should have knocked, but...- l- l-I'll sleep
in the other room, if I may.
- Anywhere you like.Uh, yes, well.
Uh... good night.Brrr! Ah, good morning.
Did you sleep well?Mm-hmm.
Um, l-l-I do apologize
for last night.- It was perfectly inconsiderate of me.
- It's perfectly all right, Monty.- You've been busy in here?
- As a bee.- How did you repair the window?
- Oh, I didn't break it.Merely forced it a little.
Sorry if I frightened you.There was an empty
wine bottle on the ledge.Oh, tomatoes. Yes.
Why don't you go and wake him?
Breakfast in minutes.The old order changeth,
yielding place to new.
And God fulfills Himself
in many ways.And soon...
I suppose...
I shall be swept away...
by some vulgar little tumor.
Oh, my boys.
My boys,
we're at the end of an age.We live in a land
of weather forecasts...and breakfasts that 'set in,'
shat on by Tories,
shoveled up by Labor.And here we are... we three...
perhaps the last island
of beauty in the world.Now, which of you is going to be
a splendid fellow...and go down to the Rolls
for the rest of the wine?- I will.
- No, I'd better go.
I wanna dig the car out anyway.- But we have my car, dear boy.
- Yes, but if it rains, we're buggered.- I mean...
- Stranded!- We'll leave the car till later.
Leave this to me.
- I'll come. I fancy a walk.No, I hear you're
a little wizard in the kitchen.
I shall need you, to work the joint.- Yeah, you're the cook.
- And... what on earth are those?- We forgot to bring our Wellingtons.
- Oh, but how dreadful.Do you mean you've been up here
in all this beastly mud and oomska
without Wellingtons?Well, this afternoon
I shall take you both into Penrith...and get you fitted with some
good quality rubber boots.Garlic, rosemary and salt.
I brought two of these in case either
of you was any good in the kitchen.- I'm not.
- Of course you are. Cooking
is one of the natural instincts.Listen, Monty.
This is all very kind of you,but I really think I ought to be
out there getting work done on the car.You haven't time.
We're taking late luncheon at : .- I'm afraid we have to leave
by : Monty.
- Leave?Oh, didn't he tell you?
We have to get back to sign on.- Sign on? At the Labor Exchange?
- Yeah.It's sort of fashionable, actually.
All the actors do it. Even Redgrave.But surely you could forego
for just this one occasion.I've come a very long way
to see you both.Can't, actually. I mean,
I'd love to stay, but he's more
adamant to get back than I am.Then we must choose
our moment...and have a word with him.
I'm sure together
we could persuade him.There. Now, garlic,
rosemary and salt.
I can never touch meat
until it's cooked.As a youth, I used to weep
in butcher shops.- I can't find the rosemary.
- Ah.Can't find the rosemary.
I'm sure we could find it
together.- Perhaps it's in the other bag.
- Perhaps it is.Shall we look?
Oh, sorry. Sherry's in there.
What do you mean, "sorry"? What's
going on? What's he doing here?We can't stay.
He won't leave me alone.All right. We'll get the lunch done,
and then we'll leave.I'm afraid
we must drink from these.I trust their shapes
will not offend your palates.- Chin-chin.
- To a delightful weekend in the country.I do think you could have shaved.
What on earth will people
think of me turning up with you two?You look like a pair
of farm hands.Tsk!
This is most embarrassing.
Get away from the car.
Buy the Wellingtons.
I'm going to buy some razors
and shaving soap.I'll see you over there
in half an hour.- Pair of blues.
- One each.- I think a drink, don't you?
- What about the Wellingtons?Oh, bollocks
to the Wellingtons.We'll tell them they had a farmer's
conference and had a run on them.Okay. Yeah. Promise.
Bye.
No, hasn't heard a thing.
Apparently, they're still seeing people.You don't want to go to Manchester
anyway. Play a bloody soldier?Don't I?
I damned well do.- It's a bloody good little theater.
- It's not much of a part, is it?Well, it's better than nothing.
- They'll make you cut your hair.
- So what? You'd lose a leg.- Time gents, please.
- All right. We're gonna
have to work quickly.A pair of quadruple whiskies
and another pair of pints, please.Where is he?
I'm utterly assholed.We're early.
We want to get in there,
don't we?Eat some cake,
soak up the booze.- All right here?
- What do you want?- Cake. All right here?
- Uh, no. We're closing in a minute.We're leaving in a minute.
- We want cake and tea.
- Didn't you hear?She said she'd closed.
What do you want in here?Cake.
What's it got to do with you?I happen to be the proprietor.
Now, would you leave?
Ah, I'm glad
you're the proprietor.I was gonna have to have
a word with you anyway.We're working on a film up here.
Location, see.
We might want to do
a film in here.- You're drunk.
- Just bring out the cakes.
Cake and fine wine.- If you don't leave,
we'll call the police.
- Balls!We want the finest wines
available to humanity.And we want them here,
and we want them now.Miss Blenehassitt, telephone the police.
It's all right,
Miss Blenehassitt.I'm warning you,
if you do, you're fired.We're multimillionaires.
We shall buy this place
and fire you immediately.Yes, we'll buy this place, and we'll
install a fucking jukebox in here...and liven
all of you stiffs up a bit.The police, Miss Blenehassitt.
Just say there are a couple of drunks
in the Penrith Tea Rooms,
and we want them removed.We are not drunks.
We are multimillionaires.Hurry up, Mabs.
We'll keep them here till they arrive.You won't keep us anywhere.
We'll buy this place
and have it knocked down.- Right, right, right.
- Police, please.Right. We're going.
Our car has arrived.
We'll be back.
We're coming back in here.
- Where is he?
- Sulking up the hill.He says he won't come in
for lunch without an apology.Suits me.
He can eat his fucking radish.It's all your fault.
- You lead him astray.
- I beg your pardon, Monty.Don't tell me you're not aware of it.
I know what you're up to, and so do you.- Sherry?
- Sherry? Oh, dear, no, no, no.I'd be sucked into his trap.
One of us has got to stay on guard.He's so mauve.
We don't know what he's planning.I'm preparing myself
to forgive you.I think
you've been punished enough.I think we'd better release you
from the légumes...and transfer your talents
to the meat.You shouldn't treat each other
so badly.This boy's been out there
frozen to the marrow,and you just sit in here
drinking.Come along. He's going
to revitalize himself, and you're
going to finish the vegetables.- I don't know how to do them.
- Well, of course you don't.You are incapable of indulging
in anything but pleasure.Am I not right?
You don't deserve such loyalty.Now, come along. I'm going
to teach you how to peel a potato.Isn't it stimulating, getting back
to a basic sort of life for a while?
- kelpie0
ooft, I hadn't read your post before I put that up by the way Moth, lol
- moth0
Bastards wont let me post that much.
- kelpie0
Those beastly little parasites. How dare they? Those little thugs. How dare they? Ooohhhh. Beastly ungrateful little swines.
- Rand0
We want the finest wines available to humanity. We want
them here and we want them now.
- Rand0
I take my posts back--moth doesn't approve. In fact, I may have to shit on this thread now, because of moth.
- moth0
You all sound like students.
It's really not cool.
- moth0
I'll raise you ALL to fight thread.
- KuzII0
haha moth, you are a miserable git you are, aren't ya?
- paraselene0
i heart moth so much!
- moth0
Yes, well, someone's got to be.
It's so cheery in here in lately - not like it used to be.
In fact, I'm leaving.
Expect my leaving thread shortly.
- honest0
Moth for prime minister!
- KuzII0
awww, whose a cuddly bear? eh? eh? whooose a cuddly bear??
*tickles moths belly
- kelpie0
oi, shitemuncher - I've answered your call to the fight thread
- moth0
awww, whose a cuddly bear? eh? eh? whooose a cuddly bear??
*tickles moths belly
KuzII
(Aug 17 06, 07:08)i fuck arses
- paraselene0
i would totally vote for moth for pm except for the arsefucking and the part where he chucks me in jail for being a dirty immigrant.