Original subtitles

Found her outside, Doctor.

She was well along then. Sally pulled the baby out of her.

The usual. Never learn, these girls.

They give it all up for a bit of sweet talk and a few pretty clothes

off some fancy man.

Wouldn't catch me falling for none of that.

What about the child?

Probably best if it's carried off with the same fever as her.

It's hungry.

They always are.

Greedy mouths

wanting to be fed and who has to shoulder the burden?

It's a cross we must bear, Mrs Carney.

You're cold, Doctor,

get you a nip of gin to warm you.

Once it's done, fetch Sowerberry for the box.

- And get that badged and ticketed. - Yes, Mrs Corney.

Fumigate that good dress of her, get the mud off and I'll take it.

- Yes, Mrs Corney. - I'll have that petticoat and all.

She won't need that linen and lace where she's going.

The baby...

The baby?

A boy.

I want to see him.

Let me see...

He's strong.

I'm going to die, aren't I?

We're all gonna die.

In my purse.

There's a letter.

Send it for me, please? For the baby, please?

Ain't really my place. Miss.

You must send it. You must.

He'll come for the child.

Can you tell him,

despite everything,

Agnes never forgot his kindness and love.

Please, send the letter. Please.

My son.

My little boy.

All right then, I've scrubbed you in, now get on with it.

No sneezing, Twist!

Don't do it. Don't eat it.

I'm hungry!

You and all.

But don't do it.

They'll beat ya.

There! There, Mr Bumble Sir! In his mouth!

I seed him, Sir!

- Thief! - I said, didn't I! I said!

Stealing! Caught red-handed!

Punish him, Mr Bumble!

For the good of us all! Punish him, Sir!

I will, Mrs Carney! I will.

For what we are about to receive,

may the Lord make us truly thankful.

Amen!

Oh, Mr Bumble, you are such a joker.

You, boy! You! Back to your place.

What do you want?

Please, Sir. I want some more.

What did...

What did you say?

I said,

please Sir...

I want some more.

Oliver Twist, Sirs.

I thought it best to bring him to you to decide what to do with him, Sirs.

I wonder, Bumble, if you are not failing as a disciplinarian.

Me, Sir?

Only today, under your guard, a boy stole oakum to eat.

I, I thrashed the boy soundly, Sir.

Blisters, Sir, blisters! Fresh ones!

There will be no more filching on my watch.

- They must be kept in check! - Spare the rod and spoil the child.

He didn't need to be beaten.

It's not fair.

He's only small.

You dare to speak to the gentlemen?

If we had more food, we wouldn't need to eat oakum.

He's beyond control!

Do you know what you are, Twist?

You are an ingrate.

Here you stand,

bloated with the sins of pride, of gluttony, of covetousness

when you should be on your knees,

praying to be forgiven!

- God sees thou, Twist. - Amen.

Then he sees you, too.

We are the people who saved you, Twist.

When your own feckless mother abandoned you at birth

by the simple expedient of dying,

we fed you and clothed you,

taught you your letters, that you might reap the benefits of your Bible.

Gave you a roof over your head, and... and this is how you repay us?

She must have been a bad lot.

Not a shred of decency to her.

There's bad blood here, Sir. And blood will out.

Apologise to us, immediately.

Beg us for forgiveness for...

- all that you are. - No!

I won't apologize.

I ain't done nothing wrong.

Get rid of him, Bumble. He offends my sight!

You will hang, Twist.

You were born for it.

Your neck was made for the noose. Do you hear me, boy?

You will dance in front of a baying crowd...

... and then, maybe, you'll be sorry.

Pass the Stilton.

BOY FOR SALE - 5 guineas Apply Mr MUMBLE

Two guineas.

- Two? - He's little.

Then he won't take up much room, will he?

- Five is the price. - Two.

Four.

And that's final. Take it or leave it.

Oliver!

- Three. - Two!

Taking the bread out of my mouth.

Follow.

He has a most melancholic countenance,

don't you think?

We can all be melancholic, Mr Sowerberry, with

husbands urging thrift upon their households

then spending good money on workhouse strays.

If you want melancholy, Mr Sowerberry, look to your poor wife.

He was a bargain, Madam.

He'll be very good for business with a face like that.

Your poor wife who, because of thrift,

must attend church with a shameful excuse for an'at!

Whispers and looks, Mr Sowerberry, I hear them, I see them,

and they sting like a lash, Sir.

I dream of mere melancholy, Mr Sowerberry. I dream of it.

Melancholy would be a merciful escape

from the deep rut of humiliation and despair your loyal wife finds herself in

from being required by thrift to dress as a pauper!

You have many hats...

Forty at the last count.

You can only wear one at a time.

I endure it all, Sir.

The petty counting of hats, the... The buying of paupers...

I endure it all out of marital duty, Sir.

I'm worn to a shadow of my former self.

My nerves are shattered, are they not, Charlotte?

- Yes, Missus! - Oh, what does he care?

He cares for nothing but coffins and bargains!

Never marry, Charlotte, never!

Your heart will be broken and ground into tiny pieces

by cruel husbands who don't give two hoots for a lady's sensibilities.

If it would restore Mrs Sowerberry's wellbeing,

I will lift the embargo on hats.

For one week only.

Well...

You sleep here...

... under the counter.

- Charlotte? - Yes, Missus?

No doubt he's crawling with fleas.

- Scrub him. - Yes, Missus.

Fetch him the scraps left down for Tinker.

Yes, Missus.

Boy? Work'us.

I'm talking to you, Work'us.

You want to be careful, Work'us,

when you're sleeping in with all them coffins.

You want to be careful of them what's dead, Work'us,

cos they come back to life when it's dark.

Worms dripping out of they eye-holes.

Noah!

What d'you think to that then, Work'us?

My name's not Work'us.

My name's Oliver.

Work'us.

Did you think it was the dead coming for you?

Yeah, you did.

Near crying, you was.

But it's just me.

- Noah? - Coming!

You're under me. I'm above you.

Understand?

- You're scared. - No.

You should be.

- What's he doing down there? - I don't know, Missus.

- Having a rest, maybe. - Lovely hat, Missus.

Get up. Stop lazing around.

- Come along, Charlotte. Come along. - Yes, Missus.

What's the matter?

- Can't you take a joke? - I haven't done anything to you.

Why can't you just leave me alone?

But I don't want to leave you alone!

Poor little orphan.

No mother or father.

Only orphan ain't strictly true,

is it, Work'us?

Cos there must be a father somewhere.

It's just your mother what's dead, ain't it?

- You don't know anything. - Don't I?

Heard the mister telling the missus.

He got it all off Bumble.

Mother with no wedding ring.

Means you're unwanted, Work'us.

Now, what that makes your mother?

A doxy.

Know what a doxy is?

Lifts her skirt for a few pennies.

Oh, just as well she died.

That's what your mother was.

Just a poxy doxy!

Don't you talk about her! You don't know!

- Shut your mouth about my mother! - He's gone mad!

I never done nothing!

- He just went for me! - Get off me, get off!

In there! No! The lid, Charlotte!

Let me out!

Let me out!

Let me out!

Charlotte, fetch Mr Bumble.

Run!

Went for me with a hammer!

- Oh, Noah! - I was afeared for my life!

- He's a berserker! - Frenzied, he was.

Eyes rolling and foaming at the mouth.

He's gone rather quiet now.

And this is what you feed him?

Then this is not madness, but meat.

Meat, madam! It is a fatal error!

Good gristle heats the blood,

boils the brain in the skull.

A scientifically proven fact.

You have been over-generous.

I hope you're content, Sowerberry!

- He doesn't seem to be mad now. - No-one's listening to you, Sir

not now, not ever, not after this.

I've a body beginning to niff

that requires a lined box.

I need that coffin as a matter of urgency.

He'll slaughter us all! It'll be me first! With a chisel!

Oh, my poor Noah! My angel!

You will all be safe with me.

I shall give him a whipping he will never forget.

You hear me in there, Twist?

I'll take the skin off your back!

Release the miscreant.

Gone.

There was only one boy born in that month

ten years ago, Mr Monks.

Birthed in this very place, to an Agnes Leeford.

Oliver Twist.

I named the boy myself.

It is considered I have a great gift with names.

The young girl died of the childbed fever.

One of our trusties was midwife.

I'll fetch her for you.

I don't remember nothing, Mrs Corney.

Nothing at all?

The boy's mother say anything to you?

Oh, you're about as much use as a sick headache,

you are. Coughing on us. Get out.

The boy's gone from here now. Ran away.

We nurtured a viper in our bosom in Oliver Twist, Sir.

Caused a riot, Sir, locally.

Very violent.

Destroyed several coffins and a splendid hat.

I myself sustained serious injury to my buttock.

Sitting without several cushions causes the most terrible hangwish.

No, Sir. Not the ledger, Sir.

Parish property, Sir.

More than my job's worth to let you take it.

But the boy could be anywhere,

but his sort always winds up back in trouble.

Mr Bumble and I might hear some news.

Perhaps Sir might like to leave an address?

All right, me covey? What's the racket?

- What? - The racket, covey.

The row. The old salt water.

- What's the matter, then? - Nothing.

Hold up, covey, why you dashin'off?

- I don't know who you are! - Who I am!

Well, that depends

if you're a beak or a peeler, don't it?

What?

And you obviously ain't neither of them, is ya?

Jack Hawkins is me given, though I'm best known

round these parts as the Artful Dodger.

You can call me Dodge.

- Oliver Twist. - Just arrived, have yer?

- All on yer tod? - My tod?

Your own, Oliver. Tod is on your own.

You is green, ain't ya?

Don't know nothin'about nothin'.

Dirty mare! Why don't you look first?

- Might have messed me threads! - Up yours!

Some people, eh, Oliver? No bleedin'manners.

- Got somewhere to stay? - No.

I knows this gent, a very kindly old soul,

what you might describe as one of nature's...

philanthropists.

He has a place, it's where I kip.

Might take you in.

Got to be careful. Being as how this old gent

is so tender-hearted, all sorts could try their luck.

But I'll do me best for ya

and that's all I can do, ain't it?

Thanks, Dodger.

- Dodge. - Come on, mate.

Got you a live one, Fagey.

Hello, my dear.

He don't know what to do with it.

It's a sausage, Oliver. You eat it.

- The whole thing? - Green.

Green as a cabbage. Ain't got a clue.

The whole thing, my dear.

What about you?

Do you want to share?

He don't eat 'em. Ain't kosher.

The pig and I are not boon companions, my dear.

Thank you for the offer though. Eat, eat.

Look at him, he loves it.

You fill your boots, Nolly.

Nolly?

As in, short for Oliver, ain't it?

Got to have a moniker, now we're muckers.

Like me being Dodger.

See him?

That's Handles on account of, well...

speaks for itself, don't it?

And that's Pearly, cos his teeth is knackered.

Show him yer railings, Pearly.

And now you is Nolly.

Didn't you never have a nickname before?

No, never.

What kind of company you been keeping?

No kind of company at all, by the look of him.

Nancy!

Let her in!

Dodge, sort him a bed.

- All right, Spike. - All right, Nance.

A nice woman.

He's taking a right shine to you.

Nancy, my dear.

He wants top whack for these.

Does he indeed? Does he indeed?

Oh, you, what have I said?

Take your hat off when you're eating

or you'll never mix with the gentry, will ya?

- Care of. - Mine.

- Who's this, then? - Found him today.

Oliver. Nolly.

Oliver Nolly? Oliver Nolly?!

That's a funny name, ain't it?

You won't get yourself a girl

if she's going to be called Mrs Nolly. Will ya?

Well, Oliver Nolly, my name is Nancy.

- Do you want a seat, Miss Nancy? - Miss!

You don't call her miss and give her your seat,

she ain't no miss, she ain't all posh, she's just Nancy.

You shut up, you! If wants to call me Miss, he can.

Well, ta ever so, Oliver.

I don't mind if I do... rest my feet for a moment.

Yeah, you're a bit of a gent, you, hmm?

Very considerate.

More than can be said for this lot.

They're nickel.

Plate.

And I'm paying over the odds as it is,

and that's only because you and I go back, my dear.

I'm the one that has to give him these pennies.

You might want to think about that sometime, my dear.

Right.

Soppy cow.

See you again, Oliver.

- Bye, boys! - Bye, Nance!

She's a good'un, is Nance.

Me and her, we're like that.

Bill, stop it, he ain't got it, let him go.

Bill, stop it, you're choking him!

Get off me! Ah! Give me what's mine!

Stop it. Put him down or you'll do for him.

- You'll swing for murder, Bill. - For him? I should get a medal.

Let go of him. He'll give you your money.

Just let go.

I don't want to lose my man over this, do I, darlin'?

Come on, Bill. Bill, let him go.

Bill, let him go. Bill!

You never flamin' learn, do you?

Get the coin.

I'll get it, I'll get it.

What you starin' at?

I'll knock your eyes out your head, you keep starin'.

- Oliver, go back to bed. - I heard you.

I was worried that you were scared.

What were you doing to him?

There ain't nothing to worry about, Oliver.

No-one's scared. It's a game.

Bit of a laugh.

Ain't it, Fagin? It's a bit of a laugh.

That's right, Nolly, my dear.

I had a bit of pie

lodged in my gullet.

Mr Sikes here was helping me to shake it loose.

Unorthodox, yes, but effective.

He's still lookin' at me.

What you lookin' at me for?

He's new, Bill!

He don't know.

Brand-new this very day. How could he know, eh?

Look at the dial on it.

Proper innocent.

Say,'I never saw nothing, Your Honour.'

I never saw nothing, Your Honour.

Do that to me again

and I will drag your guts out with a hook.

Say it again.

I never saw nothing, Your Honour.

I like you.

Bullseye!

Either you're brave,

or wrong-headed.

- Maybe a bit of both, eh? - You coming or you staying?

- Are you all right? - Go back to sleep, Nolly.

I know, Ezekiel, I know.

But I must bide my time.

Watch and wait.

God will provide, Ezekiel.

'God will provide.'

Very flash.

You cut a very fine figure, Nolly.

You sure I can keep these, Mr Fagin?

I can't pay you.

Small details, my dear. Small details.

- You've got a lot of handkerchiefs. - Yes,

pretty, ain't they?

Handsome.

Put one in your pocket...

Just for a moment.

- In my pocket? - Yes.

See what it feels like to be a gentleman.

Where's all the others?

They're all out grafting, my dear.

- Working. - Doing what?

This and that.

Turning a quid,

earning a crust.

As we all must,

my dear, to put food on the table.

Then, I'll graft too.

Perhaps, my dear, perhaps.

Lookin your pocket.

How'd you do that?

Like many things in life,

Nolly, it's easy when you know how.

Eat, eat, eat, eat.

I have errands to run.

He hit someone with a coffin lid?

Unusual!

Why?

This geezer mouthed off' gainst his dead mum.

Eats away at him see,

his dead mum, who she was,

never knew her, he don't even know her name.

But anyone mouths off'gainst her,

he goes bonkers.

Tell yer,

give him a couple of fried eggs, you get his life story.

My ear holes are throbbin'.

- A blabber? - No chance.

Code of the workhouse.

See all, say now,

else someone gets a beating.

He'll keep close, it's all he knows.

A workhouse runaway.

Don't I always spot 'em for yer, Fagey?

- Ain't I got the knack? - Oh, you do, Dodger.

You have an unerring instinct.

You have the knack, my dear.

- You're going to teach me the graft? - That's right.

What is the graft?

Well, that's what I'm going to teach you, ain't it?

And I'm the best.

You learn from me, you won't go wrong.

I'm like the bleedin' maestro of the graft.

Everyone says.

Basic rules are...

Got to have your wits about ya.

Be quick on your feet.

Light with your fingers.

And keep your eyes peeled for marks.

- Marks? - Don't ask questions, Nolly,

just watch. There's one.

Asking for it.

Watch and learn.

Anything kicks off, 'ave it on your toes.

My money! Stop that boy!

Grab him!

No, no, not that one, the other boy!

Watch where you're going!

Stop him! Stop him!

Oh, Edward!

They're chasing the wrong boy!

Idiot!!!

First time out and he gets pinched!

- Where have they taken him? - Court sessions.

You'd better get down there, Fagin.

- Me? - If he peaches on us,

you'll dangle same as me.

Get down there,

at least then we'll have fair warning.

Weren't nothing I could do, Mr Sikes.

Transport him to the colonies.

Who's next?

If you please, Mr Fang, your Honour Sir,

pickpocket.

Took a gentleman's wallet a mere hour ago.

Name.

Speak up, for the love of God.

What?

He said,'Oliver Twist, Sir.'

Pickpocket. Blight upon our city.

A plague visited on our citizens.

- Worse than sewer rats. - It wasn't me.

Oh, who was it, then...

Then you acted alone,

from base and venal instincts.

All that is left for me to do is to pass sentence.

Prison

or the colonies...

or...

How many have I sent to the gallows this week?

22. But it's only Tuesday.

Simple. Hanging it is.

Oliver Twist,

you have been found guilty of the crime of...

Stop!

- You have the wrong boy! - You're too late!

I sent ahead!

I came as fast as I could.

- That is the wrong boy! - I'm passing sentence, Sir.

And wrong boy or not,

this is a court of law and justice must be done.

You will be hanged by your neck

until you are dead,

and your mortal remains shall be left to rot

in the common pit.

May God have mercy on your vile and miserable soul.

Oliver?

Good, he's awake.

- You scared him, Mrs Bedwin. - Am I dead?

- Oh, poor boy. - Am I dead? Where am I?

- Who are you? - I'm Rose.

And you're not dead, Oliver. You're alive.

And you're safe now. You're safe.

Mrs Bedwin, how does the boy?

Much better, Sir. He's got some appetite.

Just about took the pattern off the plate.

Nice to have my good food appreciated,

that's what I say.

Lizzie will serve your lamb.

I've found some old clothes for Oliver.

Uncle, may I be excused?

I hope you scrubbed behind your ears, young man,

because I'll be checking.

Now, I brought this for you.

It's a bit big,

but at least it's clean.

It's all right.

It don't hurt.

Let me help you.

These are fiddly, aren't they?

I'm pleased to see you much recovered, Oliver.

I hope you will continue to grow stronger.

Thank you, Sir.

And thank you for speaking for me at the court.

Well, that was nothing.

Mrs Bedwin? Is he cross with me?

No, Mr Brownlow's not cross. It's just his way,

so don't you mind about him.

He never used to be like that, though.

He was always a proud man but

kind and generous,

and, oh, the music and laughter

that used to be in this house.

But there was a tragedy,

and he's never been the same since,

and I'm here to tell you that who's worked for him

these 40 years.

Precious little laughter now

and he can't stand to hear the piano.

Oh, he's still kind,

but it's all locked up tight.

Blames himself, you see.

Not a day goes by when he doesn't curse himself.

What was the tragedy?

The old story, Oliver. Love.

Two people fell in love

and maybe it wasn't approved of,

maybe eyebrows would have been raised,

but to see them together,

plain as day it was real, true love,

and it should have been joyful

and all about weddings and celebrations,

but instead it ended up in heartbreak, grief, loss...

Why?

Oh, listen to me, gossiping on.

I've said too much for your young ears.

Now,

what shall we have for pudding tonight?

Apple pie or cherry?

Both.

Uncle Robert?

- Come on. - Is he really your uncle?

No. I call him that,

but Mr Brownlow's my guardian.

He looked after us,

my sister and I, because we didn't have any family.

No parents.

Where's your sister?

She's not here.

# Abide with me #

# Fast falls the eventide #

# The darkness deepens #

# Lord with me abide #

# Who like thyself #

# My guide and stay can be #

# Through cloud and sunshine #

# Oh abide with me. #

Rose?

Let's play something cheerful.

- Oh, Sir. I'll tell them to stop. - No, no, no, don't.

Rose plays very well, Sir.

She does.

- We'll have to fetch him back. - Why?

He didn't peach on us in the court, he won't peach on us now.

But in front of the Beak, you're scared.

Your voice box is paralysed.

Where he is now, who knows?

If he was square ***, he could spill.

- Sing like a bird. - Well, he won't.

Leave him where he is, Fagin.

He's got a chance. Just let him be.

But the risk, my dear, the risk is too high.

Well, I don't want no part in it.

You'll do as you're told.

- Will I? - You will,

if you don't want to feel the back of my hand.

Bill, there's no need for backs of hands,

no need at all. No.

And Nancy, it's all very simple.

You wouldn't have to do hardly anything at all.

Hardly a thing.

- Women. - What can you do?

'Oliver Twist.

'My dear Master Twist,

'should you wish to solve the mystery

'of your sweet sainted mother's identity

'and learn of her flawless character

'and good deeds then come to Golden Lane today.

'I will be waiting.

'I urge you to tell no-one.

'I remain your faithful servant

'and secret friend.'

I never paid for your book.

- What's that? - Well, the day

they charged Oliver with being a thief.

Seems I'm the thief.

And the poor bookseller would like to be paid.

Mrs Bedwin, would you call for a boy

- to take the money round? - Let me take it.

I'm a boy. Please, let me take it.

You?

You've done so much for me.

I'd like to do something to repay you.

Please let me take it.

Oliver!

Nancy.

You look really well, Oliver. You look smashing.

Oh, I'm sorry. I had a little bit to drink.

Dutch courage. Make me brave.

What d'you need to be brave for?

You just come round the corner with me

- and I'll tell you. - Nancy, I can't.

- I'm meeting someone. - No,

you got to come with me.

Nancy?

Are you the secret friend?

You're going to find out exactly what I am.

Come on, sweetheart.

Get off of me!

- Get off of me! - Oh, don't he wriggle!

I hate you, I hate the lot of you!

Get off! Get off of me!

Stop it!

- Get off of me! - Right. Oh, letters.

Ain't you gone up in the world, son?

That's it, my boy, jab and weave,

jab and weave, Nolly.

Keep your dukes up, son!

Bill, Bill, Bill, enough! Enough!

Let me out! Let me out of here!

Let me out!

Let me out of here!

I could cosh him, that'd shut him up.

He'll tire soon enough, Bill.

Anyway, who's here to hear?

- Let me out of here! - Good work, Nance.

Let me out! Let me out of here!

Let me out, let me out!

Let me out of here!

Get off of me.

Fagin's up to something.

He's got something going on, I know it.

He never went to the bookseller's.

Something must have happened.

He had money in his pocket,

and good clothes on his back.

- Just a thief after all. - No, Uncle, not Oliver.

We were taken in by a thief.

- Uncle... - Rose, I don't want to hear

another word on the matter! Not another word!

Out for the count.

Dead to the world.

Here's the boy. Oliver Twist.

What would you have me do with him,

Mr Monks?

I want him dead.

I want him wiped off the face of the earth.

Transcript: SimonP - Synchro: Tagne