Original subtitles

From the long, long night to the ocean breeze, to the damp and to the rain of

London City.

We come from the sun to live in the call. I'm in the rum, I want my coconut

tree.

Don't touch my soccer.

The party's over.

Let's keep the music sweet. Wind up your waist and feel me.

Oh, come on, pork pie. Why don't you give it a go?

You might find a facet of your personality you never knew existed.

I know all about my facets.

Thank you very much.

Every week is some newfangled idea.

Now you're telling us just by reading somebody's writing you could tell

something about their personality.

Last time it was about body language.

Ah, that's true, Desmond.

Even the way someone thinks can tell you a lot about a person's inner workings.

My inner workings are private, and there's nothing wrong with my

Tell him, Desmond.

That's true.

Papa's always been a devotee of the three R's. What?

Reading, writing and arithmetic?

No, no, no. Rum racing and rum.

So go on then, Matt.

What's the make of that then?

Tony, you got nothing better to do?

No.

At first glance, Tony, it seems that you are an impulsive and highly creative

person. These large circles above your eyes... to a very outgoing personality.

Those are these large ones below my eyes, Matt.

Right, Matt, do your worst, mate.

Hello, Dad.

Matthew, Uncle Paul. Hi, Tony.

Hi, Sean.

All right, check this out, right?

Matthew's going to tell me all about my personality just from looking at my

handwriting. Why don't you just look under your bed?

Sean Ambrose is well -dread.

What, it says that in that book?

No, it's what he wrote down.

I can tell from Sean's writing that he's a highly intelligent individual with

deep, sensual undertones which are denoted by these big loops.

Oi, should I be a model or what, eh?

Or what?

Oi, Lee, have you got big loops?

Well, I've never had any complaints, Gloria.

Here, this. Did you put out an APB on Shirley? Cos I've just seen her and

Beverly dashing up the high street like they was going for the world record.

I mean, it went past me.

And I was in the motor.

Well, you can't blame her. She's probably trying to escape from Beverly.

I would outrun Linford Christie just to get away from that woman.

But I hope she hasn't invited her back here.

You know, I don't allow gossip in the shop. Yeah, quite right too, Desmond.

I hear that Beverly was at that lounge the other day and she spoke for half an

hour without drawing a breath. And she came in with that young man from the

station. No, you don't mean that youngster who went... He, he, he...

Best you come upstairs and have a cup of tea. Come in.

What on earth is going on? I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

It can't be. You're dead.

Good afternoon.

Won't leave much to the imagination.

Do you want a bet?

When Alex sees me in this, his imagination's going to run riot.

It's the same way your mum and dad will if they catch you wearing it.

Shirley! Knock off your doctor!

I think she saw the dress, Glor. Look, Beverly just calmed down.

Gloria, put the kettle on. Beverly's had a bit of a shock.

Yeah, she looks like she's seen a ghost. We have a devil ghost.

It's a small rum, Shirley.

Purely for medicinal purposes, you understand.

I haven't really seen a ghost, have you? As large as life. No, not a ghost, just

a man.

A man we haven't seen for more than 30 years.

Joseph Toussaint. Montpellier.

Better known as... Calypso?

I wonder if I may speak with Shirley Plachette.

Shirley Ambrose.

She's not here at the moment. I'm Desmond Ambrose, her husband.

You used to be in that jazz band.

What were they called?

The Georgetown Steamers.

With that odd little man.

What was his name?

Top Hat.

It was the Georgetown Dreamers. And it's Popeye, not Top Hat.

I'm sorry. It's been a long time.

Not long enough.

Tell Shirley I'll come in to see her tomorrow at three.

There's something I'd like to speak to her about. A private matter.

Goodbye, gentlemen.

Jules! Who's that, then? Yeah, and what do you want with Mum?

He has the bearing of a man of great importance.

Bit of a flashy dresser and all.

Pops, what's going on?

Calypso.

He's come to be a mother after all these years.

Who's Calypso?

Who's that?

Every year, Calypso would come to the masquerade in Guyana, singing his love

song. Telling his story.

Romancing everything in a skirt.

That devil could charm the birds out of the trees.

It's a bit of a Casanova, eh? No, your father was a bit of a Casanova. No,

Calypso was something entirely different. He only had to sing.

And any girl he wanted was his. Oh, a bit like Julio Iglesias.

Speak for yourself, love.

Nine months after Calypso's visit, there'd be a population explosion.

That man was a walking baby boom.

Desmond used to call him the Pied Piper of Passion.

Till one year, he set his sights on Shirley.

I couldn't tell you what Desmond called him then.

He had a voice like warm honey and molten lava.

His guitar sounded like angels plucking their harps.

Devils, more like.

What's all this got to do with Mum?

Look, I'd better go upstairs and check on Shirley and Beverly.

Oh, I see.

We'll look after things down here.

Right,

Popeye. You give us the full SP on this calypso geezer.

All right.

One year.

Calypso saw a pretty young girl that he hadn't seen before.

A beautiful, warm, and friendly girl.

The preacher's daughter.

Ah, you mean Mum?

Yes, she had started to come to dances to hear your father and me play.

That's surely all right. Warm, beautiful, intelligent, and friendly.

very poor taste in music.

Then came the time for the masquerade, the carnival.

A small boat appeared on the horizon.

Calypso had come to weave his musical web again.

I've gone okay, simply.

Calypso had made up in his mind that before the masquerade was over, surely

would be his prize.

So what was it to be, then, eh?

Pistols at dawn for him and dead, yeah?

Calypso's weapons were his songs.

Women were defenceless against them.

And I suppose all Desmond had was his trumpet.

Yeah, but surely Mum wasn't having any of this, man. Calypso's powers over

verged on the supernatural, Sean.

It was like magic.

And I expect you had a similar magical effect.

Well... You only had to say hello to a girl, and hey, presto, she disappears.

Your mother brushed him off, but Calypso didn't give up that easily.

He had a reputation to live up to.

Yeah, he's difficult.

I know.

If ever a girl resisted him, Calypso would simply write a song just for her.

He never failed, ever.

Did he ever write one for Mum?

One moonlight night, Calypso set sail to play on one of the islands.

He asked Shirley to go with him. Shirley refused.

She said she was going to stand by Desmond.

Calypso was furious and swore that when he returned, he would have written his

most passionate love song.

Just for Shirley.

Steamy or what, eh?

He sailed away on the night tide and would never be in again.

Mills and Boone, eat your heart out.

What happened, Mrs Ambrose?

Well... His guitar was washed up on some remote shore a month later, but there

was no sign of Calypso.

Until now.

You just gave us a visit.

If you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with my wife.

Alone. Come on, Beverly.

I think I should stay here and give Shirley my support.

He's come for you after all this time.

Your Caribbean Casanovas.

Pied piper of passion.

Well, if you think he's just gonna stroll in here and strum a few chords of

dusty old love song and glide out here with my wife, he got another thing

coming. You got me bag packed already?

How you know what he wanted?

He asked for you personally, so he didn't want a haircut.

So he coming back tomorrow afternoon at three o 'clock.

22 hours of our marriage.

Come on, Desmond.

Look.

You see, in the old days, people had to make their own entertainment.

Calypsonians would come with their love songs, telling their stories and gossip

from all over.

Oh, and I guess, like, rap music's the music of the streets. I suppose

the music of the island, yeah?

Well, what about this Joseph Toussaint Montpelier, then? Was he really that

Who knows?

You take a balmy night and the moonlight shining on the bay.

Check it. The air tick with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle.

And a sprinkling of young couples in love.

Well, who knows, eh? On an act like that, even a George Pandreamer could

good, eh?

I can't believe it. Clip sounds weird and wonderful powers are just part of

lore. No, it is all true.

I have poor sound knowledge.

Well, there was this girl, Yvette Xavier.

Yeah, I remember her.

Boys used to flock to her like bees wrung the honeypot.

A tall, statuesque girl from a very good family.

She'd have nothing to do with the local boys.

You, you mean?

What happened?

Calypso. She was a very strong girl and she resisted his advances. Yeah, well,

good for her. But Calypso wasn't a man to be put off that easily.

One night, He stole into her garden and stood beneath her bedroom window and he

sang his song.

Ah, one he'd written just for her, right?

Yeah, so what happened next?

Twins.

That was just idle gossip.

And you, Dad, I suppose you were in the honeysuckle bush watching all this.

No, no.

Pork pie was.

Well,

I'm going over to see if Beverly's feeling better.

Yeah, well, we're clear, right, Mum?

Well, children, I suppose this is the last meal we'll have together as a

Oh, cheer up, Dad.

Look, Beverly said once Mum had gone, she'd come round and cook for us.

Thanks, Gloria. That's just what I wanted to hear.

Hey, Dad, why don't you write Mum a love song?

Eh?

love song.

Oh, don't be silly.

Come on then, Dad. Let's hear it. Well, it's not quite ready yet. Come on,

before Mum gets back.

Well, it's just a word. Dad!

Shirley, Shirley, you're my girlie.

guy to rest easy in his grave tonight.

If you're all so smart, why don't you do better?

Yeah, well, as a matter of fact, we just might. Lee, give me a box, man.

Something with laughter and something with tears. Surely after all we've been

through, I'd just like to say that I still love you.

Musical thing is gonna work.

Tell me, Desmond, you haven't got anything yet here.

I'll buy you a pair of, uh, a pair of purple gloves.

Oh, Shirley, no, that can't be right.

Okay, let's have a look.

Huh?

No wonder you wouldn't let me analyze your writing.

I wrote it in a hurry.

It looks as though you wrote it in the dark.

Look, Desmond, what you need... It's a West African highlight.

You see, we Africans know how to romance our women.

Oh,

look,

come on, Sean. Let's leave the crew cut crew and get on with it, eh?

Deserting the sinking ship, are you?

Yeah.

Gloria, what is that you almost got

on?

No, don't you like it?

I'd like it if there was twice as much of it.

I'll pick you now.

So why did you buy such a small dress?

Sit down, Gloria.

You know, today, they're all going on about how much someone's handwriting can

say about a person.

Yes, but what do you think that dress is saying to all the men you pass in the

street?

Pretty short conversation.

You know, every generation thinks that they invented sex and all the rigmarole

that goes with it. That's just fine by me. It's part of life.

It's part of growing up.

I know a lot has changed since I was your age, but some things will always

remain the same.

And one day, you'll be talking to your daughter about the same things.

She'll say you're being overprotective and that you just don't understand.

But hopefully she'll listen.

Okay, Mum.

Anyway, truth or dare, did you leave Clipso on?

Every woman likes to be admired, Gloria. Young or old.

We all send out signals, you know. But sometimes we really don't reckon with

consequences.

A smile that turns into a blush.

A glance held just too long.

An accidental touch that lingers.

And before you know it...

Can't wait to meet him.

Desmond Ambrose, if you look at your watch one more time... Oh, what time is

It's a pipe of passion not here yet, then. No, no, no. I'm surprised you're

selling tickets.

Oh, why did I think of that?

Go away.

Late lunch, Dad.

Look, Des, we just wanted to be in your corner just in case there was any rough

stuff, you know? Lee, nothing is going to happen.

Typical men always wanted to flex their muscles. Yeah, except for the one that

matters. Shirley, what matters is that we all support the Ambrose family and

make sure that this man does not drive a wedge between Desmond and Shirley. I

can't believe it, Matt. You actually make sense.

He come in. He come in.

Shirley. Les.

You haven't.

Ambrose. Shirley Ambrose.

Arose by any... other name.

Let me tell you something. This rose comes with thorns attached.

You, you, Bluebeard. You, you. That is no way to behave. Now, please, let's

our guest welcome.

Oh, certainly, my dear. Ah, flowers.

How delightful.

I'm handling this. Let me take your hat.

surely we must make our guests feel welcome.

Never let it be said that the Ambrose family don't know how to extend the hand

of friendship after all. It's not every day that you meet a legendary

philanderer come to teeth your wife.

It's been a long time since anyone called me that.

is the Reverend Montpellier these days.

So we see, please sit down.

So, what's this story about you disappearing?

Well, after I sailed from Guyana that night, I was caught

in a terrible storm.

I capsized and drifted for three days, clinging on to my guitar.

Eventually...

I was picked up by a tramp steamer bound for Brazil.

When I got there, I realised that God had spared this sinner for a reason.

I decided to dedicate the rest of my life to his good work and stayed on in

Brazil to work amongst the poor.

You'd have your work cut out for you in Pickham, then, wouldn't you?

No, I'm here on a fundraising mission.

And who better to introduce me to the community leaders than Shirley Ambrose,

daughter of one of the most respected preachers in Guyana.

I'm flattered.

I'm flabbergasted.

Shirley's father ran me out of town more than once.

A great man.

And Desmond here wasn't doing too badly just now either.

I suppose he didn't know of your, um... New calling.

Yes, yes, we're sorry, Reverend.

Sometimes my husband's mouth works farther than his brain.

Tea, perhaps?

No, thank you, Shirley. Reverend Calypso?

Yes? Do you remember that song that you wrote for Mum?

Oh, yeah, no.

You want to finish your old father up?

I've never heard a real Calypso.

Really? How great.

Go on, show these youngsters what they've missed. Well, I remember a verse

two. I'm not listening.

I'm not listening.

Give me a demon.

I picked up my guitar shell and wrote you this song.

It sounds like a ballad girl, but darling, you're wrong.

It's an opus to you, Shirley, without a bandit's crew.

Whatever they're saying but me, Lord knows I'm not rude.

You're the preacher's daughter, darling, we should find the altar.

But before we do that, come we go rung the back.

When Ghana girls go strolling by Georgetown seawall, watch behind how

rolling, I just want to ball.

You young and innocent surely, but it's not too soon.

Two minutes with me, my darling, and I'll change your tune.

But before we do that, come with me.

We should find the old town And before we do that Come we go round the back

No,

please.

Applaud Shirley, my inspiration.

Excuse me.