All language subtitles for Hot Metal s01e01 The Tell Tale Heart

I like The Daily Crucible because it's a
paper that makes me think.

It's extraordinarily well written, and I
find its political coverage unrivaled

in sheer... Mr.

Stringer, can we keep to the point,
please?

Yes, sorry, am I going to resign?

Certainly not.

The Daily Crucible and myself are here
to stay. Make no mistake about that.

Papers. We'll tell you what's the news.

Just buy your papers.

Papers.

We'll tell you what's the news.

Just buy your papers.

The Daily Crucible was set up 18 months
ago by a private business consortium

with a mission to print the absolute
truth, free from bias and free from

distortion. It was a recipe for economic
disaster.

Circulation figures and advertising
revenue were so abysmal that within

the entire enterprise was being labelled
the product of a diseased mind.

Then, three months later, came a
sensation.

Deeply upset by allegations of the
paper's poor news coverage, the

editor, Humphrey Brassett, threw himself
out of his office room.

The event made front -page headlines in
every national newspaper except the

Crucible, which missed the story.

The paper's new editor, Harry Stringer,
Once named by a leading woman's

magazine, the dullest man in Britain was
unable to stop the rot. And this week,

the signs are that the paper's backers
may have to give way and sell up.

There are known to be several parties
interested in buying up the Crucible,

the favourite must surely be this man,
Terence Twiggy Rathbush, chairman and

managing director of the multi -million
pound Rathouse International

Corporation.

Mr. Rathbone's business empire is
already vast by any standards, but he

never yet fulfilled his long -cherished
ambition to acquire a fleet street

daily. By this time next week, that
dream may well have become a reality.

No. No, I can't talk about pay cases
now. I've got a newspaper to bring out.

Bloody press.

Come in.

Just a quick one, is it, Harry? I'm
halfway through an unnatural act in a

lavatory.

Sit down, Greg.

I've, uh... I've had a letter of
complaint from a Mrs. Edna Sperling who

as housekeeper at the home of Lady
Deborah Harrington Scott in Chelsea.

Oh, yes?

She says yesterday morning, just after
Lady Deborah had gone out shopping, she

received a visit from a rather greasy
-looking character who claimed to be

the North Thames gas board.

While waiting to be asked, the man
pushed his way into the bedroom and

rummaging through the drawers.

Challenged on this, he said some gas had
escaped and he was trying to find it.

Bizarre little story.

While we're on the subject of bizarre
little stories, Greg, Prince Andrew's

girlfriend wears kinky black suspenders
and that's official.

Dishy Deborah Harrington Scott, it was
revealed today, has an extensive

of saucy unmentionables, including
sinful French knickers and frilly lace

garters, guaranteed to give any young
prince a royal flush.

How can you write this salacious odium?

Well, I suppose it's a gift.

Anyhow, if you'll excuse me... I'm not
standing for it any longer, Greg, I've

had enough.

The time has come for the parting of the
way.

I see.

You've made your mind up, have you? I
have.

Well, I'll be sorry to see you go,
Annie.

You're a bloody good editor.

I'm not going anywhere, Greg. You are.

It's all in there.

Now take it and leave my office. Go.

Harry Stringer.

What?

When?

Oh, my God, no.

This is a great day for Fleet Street,
gentlemen. Under the new ownership of

House International, the daily crucible
will go from strength to strength,

embodying... The noble traditions of
free speech and the unrestricted flow of

information for all.

No further comment.

This is no ego trip for me, gentlemen.

I like to keep a low profile. Of course,
there will be changes.

But change is the crankshaft in the
drive for progress. And talking of

crankshaft, what can I say about Harry
Stringer here?

the finest newsman of his generation.
During his time as editor, the

gone from bad to worse.

The chair of the market has plunged to
an all -time low.

But did he get downhearted? Did he go
around sniveling and whining about it?

Of course he does.

Because he's a human being just like you
and me, you cats.

And that's why, as from today, I'm
upgrading you, Harry, with taking over

brand -new post of executive managing
editor.

I'm surprised.

Oh. Well, I don't really know what to
say. Finally, gentlemen, I want you to

rest assured that I shall confine my
involvement on the crucible to affairs

management only.

I don't hold with megalomaniac press
barons who try and stamp their politics

anything.

Punish the crucible!

must retain its independence, and that's
why I've appointed as the new editor

Mr. Russell Spam.

A man whose name is synonymous with
integrity in journalism.

Russell Spam? I don't think any Russ has
ever heard of Russell Spam. Spam's

worked miracles on some of my African
titles. He's a man after my own heart. I

think you'll like him. As a matter of
fact, if you'll be here by now, if

excuse me, I'll just go and see where
he's got to.

Oh.

Congratulations on becoming executive
managing editor.

Thank you, Max.

What exactly does an executive managing
editor do?

Well, basically, I'll be... Well, it'll
be my job to...

I can't believe we've met.

I'm sorry?

to rush off before the banks closed.

Rest assured, everyone, that I shall
take up this job just where you left

Your newspaper couldn't be in safer
hands.

bathroom. We'd better fix you up with
someone temporary. It's not ideal, but

we're a bit pushed for space.

Oh dear.

Where have you put me? In the lift?

Managing editor.

Well, I'm responsible for the... I...
Well, basically, my

job now is to... Can I call you back?

Well, there's the Israeli push into the
Bekaa Valley. 500 dead, according to

agency reports.

Have we got a man in the water?

Jeff Tindall's in Riyadh. I could put
him straight on a plane for Lebanon.

great respect, gentlemen, this is the
Daily Crucible, not the Beirut Bugle.

If I see Jewish atrocities, I can go and
watch Sammy Davis Jr.

People in Britain want to know what's
happening here, now.

The crucible is a limp organ. It needs
pepping up.

I'm sorry, Russell, I can't agree.

The crucible's function is to provide a
serious, in -depth analysis of world

affairs. Independent of external
constraints? Yes.

Where the editor has complete,
unfettered control?

Certainly. Free from interference from
busybody executives?

Absolutely.

So, it's agreed, then, what this paper
needs is new blood. Someone who can turn

out copy.

Like this story in today's Sun.

Palace playmate supports sexy sizzlers.

Exposed. The undercover secrets of Royal
Romeo's perv gear princess.

Prince Andrew's new girlfriend wears
kinky black suspenders and that's

But you know where the son got this
nugget of gold? From a freelance called

Kettle. Well, gentlemen, that reporter
is a freelance no longer. I've snapped

him up for a six -figure sum to come and
work for us. You're not serious.

I don't hang about, Harry.

Life's too short.

Lady Deborah's the hottest thing on
newsprint at the moment, and Kettle's

man to come up with the goods. I've sent
him out this morning to Switzerland to

cover the royal skiing holiday.

I don't think he'll let her down.

Oui, qu 'est -ce que c 'est? Oh, good
evening, Madame Press.

I'm looking for somewhere to spend the
night. There is no room here.

Why is the hotel search?

The hotel search used is full up.

It's being used as a place by gossip
columnists from Der Spiegel.

Then to pass them on time next door. Oh,
that's full up as well.

Paris Match, Newsweek and the
Bridlington Mercury got there first.

Everywhere's full.

Now, I'm sure you wouldn't refuse
accommodation to a member of Her

Prince. You cannot possibly stay in my
chalet. I appreciate your concern for my

welfare, but I've slept in worse squalor
than this.

Oh, I'll just move this out of the way.

An elderly person might well... That
is... That is my lodger. He's very

old. Oh, well, he'll grow out of it in
due course.

Now, then, you will, of course, be
recompensed for this inconvenience. The

British press is not without honour.

Invoice to our accounts department.
They'll come to an arrangement.

Don't affect dentists' appointments with
lust.

Atom leak mum in Boy George Mercy Dash.

Toupées cause cancer. It's a fact.

What you're concerned, Harry, it's only
natural.

The concern is the squashed hedgehog on
the right. Old Trinicari.

Russell's got his finger on the pulse.
It's not for me to interfere.

I think I'd feel a lot happier, sir, if
you could clarify exactly what are my

responsibilities as executive managing
editor.

You're the top dog, Harry.

Yes. But what actually is my job?

Your job, Harry, is to... Oh, excuse me
just one moment.

Now, Russell, everything under control.
I've just been talking to Harry.

Harry? Harry who?

One of the finest newsmen of his
generation, sir. I agree, Russell.

The man's a legend.

Exactly, but I think for me he's
bothering him. Maybe I should have a

for his mind at rest.

Would you, Russell? Certainly, sir.

I'd appreciate it if you could do that.

Harry!

How's it going?

Come back to the office and we'll talk.

And as if all that wasn't bad enough,
Russell.

This afternoon, I was flicking through
the news desk diary, and I found this.

Under December the 23rd, exactly nine
months from today, it says, Royal Baby,

question mark.

What does it mean, Russell?

It's called the freedom of the press.

It's what distinguishes our society from
those of Eastern Europe. You people are

the filth of the earth.

It's a school of thought, aren't you?

Go on, get out of my room. Out!

Go on!

Bob produced a knuckle duster and socked
me on the jaw.

Blob broke a small soup tureen over my
head, comma, screaming, quotes, F for

Freddy, dash, dash, dash, off.

You greasy little W, dash, dash, dash,
dash, dash, exclamation

marks, close quote, new part.

A palace spokesman denied that Lady
Deborah has a history of heavy drinking.

Right, front page, Max, what have we got
for tomorrow?

East -West summit, 200 dead in Soweto.
I'm not talking about down -page

Max.

We've had our beating -up reporters.
What can we do for a follow -up?

Sex scandal would just fit across five
columns.

Wasn't Harry meant to be coming to this
meeting, Russell?

Harry who?

Harry. Harry Stringer.

Well, probably got detained somewhere.

You know, I think that we should...

Harry who?

Harry, where are you?

Stuck? Between floors?

Well, that's terrible, Harry, just
terrible.

Still, can't be helped.

Try pressing the alarm button. Bye.

Listen, I think I've got one.

Pornographic videos.

Pornographic videos?

Can you imagine the sensation if we
revealed that during her days as a

Lady Deborah once took part in a porno
movie?

The print lies like that.

up in the tower. They can't sue us for
publishing malicious rumours in good

faith. Rumours? I've heard no rumours.

All right. Listen to this one.

Some filth merchant in Soho is peddling
sex films with Lady Deborah in them.

Is he?

It could be.

We print a couple of blurred stills of a
naked girl on the job and ask, is it or

isn't it the crucible?

damn deceitful and disgusting slander.
There's your front lead, ma 'am.

Lady Deb in Blue Movie Queen Quiz.

Royal Throt by Shock Porn's Dawn.

The Queen forbids them to meet again.
We're off to the races.

Hardcore heartbreak for Playboy Prince.

Bare all antics. Spike royal love fling.

You know, we're going to have to get
maintenance to do something about these

libs.

I wish I had nipples like yours, Jane.

Hey, looks like we're just in time.

What's this one called again?

Oh, Christ knows. They're all beginning
to look the same now.

Red hot nymphos from Rangoon.

is Royals cancel skiing trip and rush
home to deal with porno scandal.

I'll see what I can do.

Bye.

I'll have some more toast, if you've got
it.

And can you get me another cup of tea?
This one's got a piece of string in it.

You know, your face looks familiar.

You weren't landlord of the Amschimmel
beer garden at the time of the 76 Munich

massacre, by any chance?

What was that man's name?

Khrushchev.

Nikita Khrushchev. No, no, it began with
a D.

He had a very novel way of writing his
name in the froth. I used to amuse the

ladies.

What name did you say?

Khrushchev. Khrushchev?

He was leader of Russia, wasn't he?

1953 to 1964.

And then came the discreditation.

The seagulls.

The prisoners.

They were always hungry for power.

What are you all about?

The Supreme Soviet did what it could to
bury my name.

My death was a fiction.

The body was for me called Bull Terrier.

I live here.

Give the only norm.

I just had a call from Harry, Russell.
He tells me you've been sailing close to

the wind on this royal story.

If I've upset Harry Stringer, I'm a boy
on the face of journalism, sir.

I hereby tender my resignation.

That's a fine little gesture, Russell,
that I've got.

One more chance.

I'll try to be worthy of it, sir.

Oh, firm.

Look here, this ludicrous charade has
gone on quite long.

I thought I'd find you both in here.

I mean,

I just... They'll skin us alive. They'll
take us for every penny we've got.

Russell, this statement's just been
issued by Lady Deborah's solicitors. My

what did I tell you? We're finished.

We write with reference to your front
page article today alluding to an

appearance by Lady Deborah Harrington
Scott in a video production titled Red

Nymphos from Rangoon.

The aforesaid article has caused deep
distress and embarrassment to our client

and we hereby formally serve notice of
the following. One, that our client only

took part in the above film because of
her adverse financial position.

Two, that she has subsequently appeared
in no other similar productions and...

Three, that she hereinafter has agreed
to terminate her relationship with His

Royal Highness to spare the latter's
family further embarrassment.

Sensational match. Clear the centre
spread. Front three and five. We'll get

town on this one.

Great work, Russell. I knew you could do
it.

Is there anything else you want me to
carry?

Well, yes.

Yes, there is.

I'm just about sick and tired of all
the... What?

I'm telling you, Russell, it's him.

Oh, hang on, hang on, just a second.

What do you want? What's all this rumour
about Apollo video?

I can't tell you.

It's exclusive. Look, I'm sorry, I'll
see you later.

What's going on? A bit of bird in there.

What? Oh, yes, I have, yes.

Inflagranti with a stunning alpine
temptress goes like a rocket.

Are you going to come and finish this
before it gets cold?

Russell, look, I can't talk anymore. The
place is swarming with reporters.

Bring him back here at once, Greg. I
don't care what it takes.

The crucible struck gold again, Harry.
This could be the biggest thing since

Lazarus.

of his master and a story with some
sordid sex appeal someone's secrets we

grabbed famous bags that we have stabbed
now you want no