Original subtitles

I'm H -A -P -P -Y.

I'm H -A -P -P -Y.

I know I am, I'm sure I am.

I'm H -A -P -P -Y.

I know I am, I'm sure I am. He's H -A -P -P -Y.

What are you doing?

Writing? I can see that. I'm not blind. What are you writing?

I'm not telling you.

All right, that's how you feel.

Lose is not poetry.

Why should it be poetry?

Because these drugs can have profound side effects. You get that faraway look

your eyes and you start doing some very strange things.

There's nothing strange about writing poetry figures. It's an expression of

man's finest feelings.

Not under drugs, it's not. You sit there thinking you're writing Paradise Lost

and when you look the next day, all you've got is ickery dickery dock.

Oh, but it is poetry.

Oh, but it doesn't even rhyme.

It doesn't have to rhyme. Of course it has to rhyme. It's not poetry if it

doesn't rhyme. Dylan Thomas's poetry didn't rhyme. That's because he was on a

bottle of Scotch a day. His senses were clouded. He wrote some very fine poetry.

It would have been even better if it had rhymed.

Anyhow, I can't stand this modern poetry. I read a poem the other day

sack of fertiliser. What a subject.

How can you get poetic about a sack of fertiliser?

What's yours about?

I'm not writing poetry.

I don't know why some people have to be so secretive about writing poetry. I

mean, if you want to write a poem to your girlfriend, why shouldn't you?

Better than a sack of fertilizer.

I am not writing a poem, and I haven't got a girlfriend.

Don't give me that. You're always mooning about somebody.

Perhaps she's writing a poem to the iceberg.

Oh, you mean Nurse Bradley? I'm not interested in Nurse Bradley. I should

not. You need gloves and a blow lamp to deal with her.

You can read us a couple of stanzas if you like.

We'll tell you if you've got the meter right.

Fig, for the last time, I am not writing poetry.

As a matter of fact, it's a diary.

A diary?

You mean dates, appointments, meetings, things like that?

Well, it's a little more than that. Oh, it'd have to be. You're not going

anywhere, are you? All you do is vegetate. A cabbage would have more to

about. I am not a cabbage pig, and there's plenty to write about around

Oh, yes. You get up at six, have your bed made, get back in it again, eat your

breakfast, get out of bed, have a pill, get back into bed again, get the crumbs

off your sheets, read a book, have your lunch, get up, get back into bed.

Let's face it, you lead a totally uninteresting life.

It's not like that. It's about my thoughts and observations. Of course it

understand, Norman. It's the reflection of your life in here and of the

interesting characters that you've met.

Yes, that's right.

Wait a minute. You mean you're writing about us, things you've been saying,

sort of thing? Well, yes, if it's of interest.

Oh.

What have you said about me?

I can't tell you that. It's... Oh, no, it's private. Let me have a look. Oh,

certainly not.

No, I wish I hadn't told you.

I don't think I like this at all, Archie. Everything's been taken down.

It's an invasion of privacy. He could say anything.

Don't worry, Figures. After all, nobody's going to see it. It's his

diary. Well, suppose he gets into the wrong hands.

He could die one day and leave it behind.

Suppose Hutchinson's get hold of it and publish. We could all be in the mire.

I think we should read it. Certainly not.

And after all, a diary like that could make us famous.

I mean, think of it. A glittering conversation, the cut and thrust of our

recorded for posterity.

We could come out of it very well.

Not as well as he will. Don't forget, he's writing it. He's bound to make

himself look good.

He'll show us warts and all.

Warts? I haven't got any warts. I've got a perfect skin.

Well, I'm going to read it.

You can't.

It's in our interests.

What's it say? I'm just looking at his latest entry.

Gee has been constantly preening himself this evening.

Sometimes he reminds me of a magnificent peacock strutting around in his

colourful dressing gown and displaying himself.

It's not bad, is it? Not bad of all the dirty on -the -hand things to do. Oh,

he's really got you summed up here, Archie. He has just finished grooming

moustache, probably to remove minor particles of food that have lodged

As usual, I found this abbot quite distasteful. What? Let me see.

Abbot quite distasteful.

What is it? You should have read further. Listen to this. I must be

about keeping this diary. He has been watching me again.

His curiosity is one of his worst features, next to his garrulousness.

No doubt he has strong opinions about keeping a diary. He has about everything

else. Who is he talking about?

You, Figgis.

What?

I can't believe it. He's always been so quiet and inoffensive.

Yes, but that was only on the surface. I always knew there was something weird

underneath.

Oh, good Lord.

You should see what he's written about Ford. Was there a clever?

Oh, nothing, Doctor. What are you doing by Norman Scott? What are you reading?

Just a diary, Doctor. May I sit?

Private document. You shouldn't be reading this, Glover.

Put it back where it belongs.

There's something about you on the 6th. What? What are you talking about? Let me

see.

She came in today, a decent chair, but obviously highly strung.

Heightens lack of confidence by singing snatches of Gilbert and Sullivan.

My own operation seems to have gone all right, fortunately.

I can't say the same for figures. He may well have grounds for litigation.

Gupta, this is serious. The boy appears to be rambling. Yes, indeed, Mr. Thorpe.

Is there anything about me? About you?

Well, yes, there is a mention.

Let me see.

Gupta, on the other hand, hides a kind and sympathetic nature under his brusque

manner. He is the only one I've met here who has a genuine feeling for medicine.

But oh, that walk.

What walk?

Ah.

Now, that's personal. Talking about his walk. What walk? Yes, he might have left

his walk out of it. What walk? Oh, this walk.

I don't walk like that, Mr. Thorpe. Of course you don't, Gupta. I told you he's

rambly. Now, look, we'll say no more about this.

We'll put it back where it belongs and we'll behave perfectly naturally.

Um, could I have a word, Gupta?

little maid who's all unwary.

What's the matter with those two? Nothing.

Why should there be?

Peacock, indeed.

I'll give him Peacock, the little creep. Stop it, Archie. Stop what? You're

doing it again. Doing what? Grooming your moustache.

What are you whispering about?

Nothing. Why?

Are you curious? You want to watch that? You know, curiosity can be a vice if

it's not controlled.

I just thought you were talking. That's all me. No, I don't have to talk all the

time. I do have moments of repose.

I can sit and regard life in silent contemplation.

And you can put that in your bleeding diary.

Hey!

The iceberg's just come on duty.

Oh, I shouldn't worry, Figgis. I saw definite signs of a thaw yesterday.

There was a smile hovering around those granite lips.

Good evening, Nurse Bradley.

Is it, Mr. Glover? It is now.

The whole ward is lit up with your gaiety and laughter.

Why do you make such a mess of your bed?

This is the untidiest ward in the hospital.

Men. What do you prefer, nurse? Three dummies from Montague Burton's.

Just think of it. No mess, no beds to make, all just lying there in a straight

line. It would certainly be an improvement, Mr Figgis. Well, I think a

from Montague Burton's would get more response than I'm getting at the moment.

You mean because I'd enter to come to your well -worn charm, Mr Glover? Well

-worn?

Did you hear that, Archie?

That little scene will be coming out in Morocco leather in six months' time.

Do you think so, Figgis?

What is it he's writing?

Nurse Bradley met my eyes again, and I noticed the colour come to her cheek,

she looked away.

I think she remembers last night.

Her hands trembled as she smoothed the sheets.

We must be careful. The others are watching.

Who would have thought that she could have revealed such depths?

Norman?

What? Could you give me a hand with the flowers?

Yes, certainly, nurse.

Quick, Archie, now's your chance. Grab that diary. I'll keep Norman out of the

way. Hey, wait a minute. Why don't you grab it? Because he suspects me already.

Don't forget me. He's got me down as curious.

Yes, I'm garrulous. Never mind the garrulous. Get that diary.

Yesterday it happened just as I knew it would.

Poor Glover was trying to draw attention to himself again, but she only had eyes

for me.

Oh, come on, nurse, give me a kiss. There's nobody about.

Oh, come on, give me a kiss and I'll help you with the beds.

Come on, pucker up, give yourself a treat.

Please don't make a nuisance of yourself, Mr Glover. And let go of my

You heard what the lady said.

What?

Can't you see that your attentions aren't welcome?

That's all right.

He doesn't really mean any harm. I think the poor devil's lonely.

You're very understanding.

That's the first thing I noticed about you.

Was he very handsome?

Who? The man who did this to you, who made you feel so bitter.

You're very shrewd for one so young.

You've been hurt, I can see that. But all men aren't like that.

Oh, please, don't touch me. Why not? You're very beautiful, and I don't even

know your name. Just Nurse Bradley.

Jocasta.

Jocasta? No, Norman.

It's too late.

I'm so dreadfully worried I should make a fool of myself and fall in love with

you. Would that be such a terrible thing? It's not foolish to love,

How did you know?

How did I give myself away?

Last night, when I slept, did I feel your hair brush my cheek?

Or was that just a dream?

I couldn't help myself.

You look so handsome when you're asleep.

Oh, my God.

What am I getting myself into?

Excuse me.

Woman, I'm sorry about that.

I might have known that she would have preferred you.

But how do you do it if only I had your technique?

There's no technique, no tricks, Archie.

Can I give you some advice?

You've got to feel things more. There has to be honesty in a relationship.

Loving is giving, not taking.

Yes.

I never thought of it like that.

You're right.

What an elaborate charade my life has become.

No, it's true.

And when I meet someone like you who has this natural simplicity, I realise

that. I realise what an empty farce my life has become. What went wrong,

Archie, when we get out of here, do you mind if I come and visit you? Oh, would

you?

Would you really? Of course.

And bring some girls.

We'll be.

Oh, thank you, Norman.

What's the matter, Archie? Natural simplicity.

You've got about as much natural simplicity as a bent corkscrew.

not suggesting we steal it. I suggest we take it away, read it, remove the

offensive and libelous passages and return the binding.

Now, come on.

It's under his pillow.

I've

got

it.

Take a bit of explaining if he wakes up. What am I going to do? Stick with him,

Archie. I think he likes your aftershave.

Don't let him feel your moustache, for God's sake.

You'll frighten the life out of him.

Well, are you coming or are you getting to like it?

What are we going to do? Read it, of course.

Well, that could take us all night.

Never mind.

Start at the beginning.

You remember how nervous he was when he first came in here?

Arrived in hospital on the 14th. Found myself sharing a room with two extremely

nervous patients whom I instantly took in hand.

Hello.

You're new here, aren't you?

Yes, I came in today.

Welcome to Jack the Ripper Ward.

You don't recommend it. I should think not.

There's not many get out of here.

Do you want to see something horrible?

What? Do you want to see something really horrible?

If you like.

What about that, then?

And they promised me keyhole surgery.

I've seen worse. Where?

The guards.

Oh, should suit you in here, then. The discipline's rigid.

Whose bed is that?

Glover. I'm not speaking to him. We come from different sides of the fence. I

should keep well away from him if I was you. If you don't mind, I prefer to form

my own opinions.

The way I see it, we're all in the same boat. He's not. He gets preferential

treatment. It's amazing.

30 years of socialised medicine. You've only got to walk in here with a shooting

stick and you're straight to the front of the queue.

Oh, oranges.

Oh, what should I want of these? The food here is diabolical. I can't eat it.

Then why don't you complain?

Complain? It's more than your life's worth. You try complaining round here,

get a dull needle up your backside.

Well, I shall complain. Just because they've taken our clothes, it doesn't

they've taken our identity.

You've got to hang on to your individuality in a place like this.

I never thought of it like that.

I suppose you're right.

What's your name?

Norman. Norman Binns. Mine's Figgis.

I'm pleased to meet you, Norman.

Hello. You must be the new boy.

My name's Glover.

Archie Glover. Norman. Norman Binns. Have they told you about the bed? The

It was promised to me. No, it wasn't. Yes, it was.

They said I could have it so I could see the daffodils. It was promised. We all

want to see the bleeding daffodils, mate.

Why should you have it? Because they know how much it means to me.

One last spring. Is it too much to ask? You're wasting your time, Glover. You

won't swallow all this. So much to do. So little time. Rubbish. It was

That's all right, Archie. You can have the bed.

Can I, Norman?

Thank you.

I'll just get my thing.

Why did you do that?

Can't you see? He's near to breaking point. His nerve's gone. Besides, I can

sleep anywhere he needs that bed more than I do.

But he's a tough... Perhaps he is. But remember, Biggis, from each according to

his abilities, to each according to his needs.

You've read Marx.

Of course.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go and find Sister.

Who did he... Say, it was... Norman.

Norman Binns.

But it wasn't like that at all. Of course it wasn't. He's living in a dream

world. What are you two doing up at this hour?

Sorry, Doctor, we couldn't sleep.

Good heavens, you're not reading that diary again. I told you that was

private property.

But you don't know what he's been saying about us, Doctor.

I shouldn't worry about that thing. You should remember, what some father gifted

you is to see yourself as others see us.

where it belongs. Thank you, Figgis.

Tuesday the 15th. Today is the day of my operation.

I can sense the tension in the ward.

Figgis and Glover are watching me anxiously. Even Gupta is showing signs

frayed nerves.

I think he's grown quite attached to me in the last two days. It's as if he's

trying to tell me something.

What's the matter, Gupta?

Something's wrong, isn't it?

I should have known I couldn't hide it from you, Norman.

After all, you are no ordinary patient.

What is it, Gupta?

It is thought.

It creates a crisis of confidence.

I should not be saying this, Norman, but although I've only just met you, I've

become deeply attached to you.

Not just because you are fluent in Urdu, know India, and have bathed in the

sacred Ganges, but because you are a patient one meets just once in a

Thank you, Gupta. Now, you mentioned Thorpe.

He's been drinking again.

Poor Jet. Yes, he was a good surgeon once, but the stain of overwork has

too much for him. And after yesterday's Jet will have played with Glover. But he

must look on the bright side, Gupta. The operation was a complete success.

But he was on the wrong man, Norman. He's made a terrible mistake.

And he cannot forgive himself.

Take my advice. Refuse the operation.

He has the shape.

Could I have a word with you, Norman?

Certainly, Doctor.

And you?

Gupta.

Humeo Chordo.

Jihad, Norman. My tiger.

Norman, I have something to say to you.

After what happened yesterday, I'd quite understand if you prefer Mr. McGregor

to do the operation.

After what happened yesterday? I don't understand.

You removed Glover's appendix with absolute precision.

Absolute precision? Normandy came in with chest pains. I wasn't even in the

target area.

Everyone makes mistakes, Doctor. We're all humans.

I just hope the medical council will see it like that. This could ruin me.

No. I've spoken to Glover, and as a personal favour to me, he's agreed not

press charges.

Thank you, Norman.

You saved me from a life of shame and ignominy.

What can I say?

Nothing. Now we've got that little matter out of the way.

Should we get on with the operation?

My God, you're a cool one.

But it's not just courage, Norman. I mean, suppose something should go wrong,

they'd never forgive me, you're so popular.

It's not just the brave stand you made against the food, or the brilliantly

improvised repair of the life support system in casualty.

No, it's more than that.

I've come to respect you, not as a patient, but as a man.

These hands won't stop shaking.

I went out last night and tied one on.

Look at them.

I'm looking at these hands.

They're good hands, sensitive hands. I wanted to be a concert pianist. Why did

choose surgery?

You didn't choose surgery. Surgery chose you. These are surgeons' hands.

Then why won't they stop shaking?

They will.

Now, why don't you go and scrub up? You see, I don't want Mr. McGregor. I want

you. You are the best, and I want the best.

Do you really mean that?

Yes. Thank you, Norman.

Well... Look.

My hands.

They've stopped shaking.

Then, should we get started?

I just found a novel's diary. I was going to replace it.

Oh, don't bother. I'll do that for you.

After all, we don't want it to fall into the wrong hands, do we?

No, quite.

Thank you, staff.

Nurse B

came

to my bedside again last night.

As I opened my eyes, her gaze met mine.

A stray curl had escaped from her cap.

Her cheeks were flushed and her breasts rose and fell.

My first indication that she is a deeply emotional woman.

All right, you two.

Where is it? Where's what? You know what I'm talking about. Where's my diary?

You've been reading it, haven't you? What if we have? That's not a diary.

a work of fiction.

Carried on like that, you should be ashamed of yourself.

Yes.

What was his name again?

Norman.

Norman Bin. Oh, yes, Norman Bins.

Saint.

Romantic lover. The most unforgettable character I've ever met.

It's been a privilege to know you.

But you don't understand.

I started to keep a diary and it wasn't very interesting. You're right, Fig, I

lead a dull and uninteresting life.

I was just trying to make it a bit more exciting.

Oh, it's going to be more exciting, don't you worry. You know who's got that

diary now?

Thorpe. It'll be all over the hospital. Everybody's going to know what a rogue

you are. You'll wish you'd never put pen to paper.

He'll show it to Nurse Bradley. What?

I wouldn't be in your shoes if she finds out. They don't call her the iceberg

for nothing. You remember what an iceberg did to the Titanic?

It ripped its guts out.

Shut up!

If I were you, Norman, I'd destroy that diary as soon as possible. Don't worry,

I will. I'm fed up with the whole thing. I'll never keep a diary again.

Shh! Someone's coming!

Oh, thank you. I managed to rescue it from Mr Thorpe's clutches.

It fell open.

What? I couldn't help reading it.

I was shocked, Norman. What could have prompted you to write such things? I'm

sorry, Nurse Bradley. Oh, I must admit, I had no idea you had so much

perception.

How did you know?

Did I really give myself away so easily?

Tonight, Bea revealed her true feelings for the first time. She has obviously

decided to burn her boats and surrender to my embrace.

Yes, I make great pinky wine.

I make great pinky wine. I know that I am what I am. I make great pinky wine.

Oh, yes, I make great pinky wine.