Original subtitles

The Queen can go anywhere she likes, can't she?

Yeah.

Well, obviously she's got a schedule.

What about the castle?

The castle?

A bit early for a drink, isn't it?

What the hell?

What?

What have you got round your neck?

Australian address, isn't it?

Is it battery or mains?

I just knew it.

Just because you choose to dress like Enoch Powell does not mean to say that

rest of us do.

It makes all your eyes go funny.

I know, it's one of those magic eye patterns, isn't it?

Hang on, hang on. You have to screw your eyes up like this. I'm really

concentrating.

I've got it, I've got it.

It's two hedgehogs mating in a bath full of fairy lights.

Briggs, look.

This must be a record.

Five past nine and already you're at each other's throats.

Wouldn't go too near his throat, sir.

Get radiation burned.

Good God, Briggs.

What's that round your neck?

All right, all right. Come on.

Get it all out of your system.

Mains or batteries?

This way.

Look at you both.

It's like looking at the pages of a 1950s Littlewoods menswear catalogue.

up to the 90s. Say hello to Cullen.

Dare to wear the clothes that suit your mood.

If I was in that mood, I wouldn't wear the tie. I'd hang myself with it.

For your information, this tie costs more than your

whole suit. What? A fiver?

Can we change the subject?

What's in the box?

Take a look for yourself.

It's been with the British Museum for years, but the Indians want it back.

A representative of the Comanche Nation is flying over from America.

To pick it up himself.

Why don't we just post it?

It's obvious, Mum.

If it got lost in a post, they might soon.

And why have we got it anyway?

Why don't you put it down, Louis?

It looks just like Harry Seacombe, doesn't it? Put it down, Louis!

So, er... Is this your first time in the country, is it?

Under your order, you know, cos they were going to send a minicab. You know

they're like.

A bunch of cowboys.

Look, it's a lot of mumbo -jumbo got up by the post office.

Honestly, they get a whiff of a 2 ,000 -year -old Indian curse and suddenly

you've got a strike on your hands.

And this curse affects anybody who actually touches the carving, sir? There

isn't a curse.

It's a perfectly normal road accident.

What road accident?

I shouldn't have said anything.

Come on, sir, what road accident?

The post office van that was taking the thing to Gatwick.

Crashed. It was perfectly routine.

Clear road.

Normal sort of day.

Experienced delivery driver.

What happened to this experienced delivery driver?

We'll know more when they get the rest of him out of the hay baler.

What?

after what happened they thought it best that we keep hold of it until one of

their medicine men could come and collect it in person good I'm going for

of tea

Why, small.

No.

I wonder what the great spirit of the Comanches will do to you.

I mean, there'd be no point scalping you, would there?

Post office vans crash every day.

Absolutely, Bob. I've never seen one do less than 70 mile an hour. They deliver

them with dent, but they haven't the trouble.

I reckon he had a heart attack at the wheel.

He died of pure terror.

It's now sugar.

And yet, you press the button marked with

sugar.

That's it.

That's the curse.

That's the curse of the untweeted...