All language subtitles for Hot Metal s02e04 The Twilight Zone.eng

Hey, Fer!

Let's see if I've got this right so far.
The family of a High Court judge are

all found murdered, but the judge
himself's gone missing. We tracked down

woman we think he's been having an
affair with, and by now she's been

death as well.

I don't know if you've got a strong
stomach, Mr Lipton.

Well, God, these are appalling.

Well, police photographers can't expect
quality.

Notice the couple there, the son and
daughter -in -law.

They're still sitting at a chess table.

The board and the pieces still laid out
in front of them.

Macabre. There's something wrong with
that picture. I just wish I could work

what it is.

And then what about the canary?

Exactly.

What canary?

When I found the girlfriend's body,
there was a dead canary lying on the

of its cage.

Well, Teneris aren't noted for the high
suicide rate, Mr Lipson.

I'm very dodgy about this whole story.

And very dangerous. I'm not sure it's
safe for you to be investigating all

violence and brutality.

I've covered Labour Party conferences.

I'll manage.

And I've been meeting with Mr Rathbone
now.

Well, stick with it for the moment then,
Maggie. I'm hoping for a good, honest

story from this in the end.

God knows we need one.

See you, Mr Lipson.

35 years ago, Terence Rathbone had a
dream.

He dreamt of a place of magic, fun and
excitement on a high -yield investment

basis. A happy land where children laugh
and sing and dog turds are a thing of

the past.

Everyone can share in that dream at Rat
World, a fantasy land for all the family

of non -exportative admission prices.

At Rat World, you'll gaze in wonder at
our life -size animated models of the

royal family.

They're almost real.

For the first time, you can go inside
the palace and watch the queen scrubbing

her toenails in the bath and Diana
hurling four -letter obscenities at each

other.

Andrew going to the lavatory. Yes,
there's something for everyone at Rat

Visit Britt Eklund's house of toy boys
for a special puppet show of her

favourite sexual positions every half
hour. Then, why not take a trip to the

wonderful world of the loony left, where
everything is topsy -turvy.

Lesbians frolic in the woods. Money
grows on trees. And Labour councillors

to discuss their spending policies.

Yes, rat world. For a dazzling day out
amid nature's miracles.

Near Farringbridge in Hampshire,
formerly the New Forest.

I don't know what to say, sir.

I mean, the New Forest used to be home
to...

Deer and ponies.

Conservation of the local fauna was our
top priority, Dickie. We had them all

skinned and turned into robots.

Extinction becomes a thing of the past.

But all these shows and attractions,
this is everything you hate.

This is what we're trying to eradicate
in the Crucible, isn't it?

Yes, of course it is.

You shouldn't have had Russell Spam on
board as creative advisor. Still!

What can be ironed out? I didn't build
Rat World as the ultimate in tacky

commercialism. I built it as a monument
for the nation.

I'm sorry. I cannot endorse it in its
present form and I cannot publish these

adverts in the Crucible.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have urgent
things to attend to downstairs.

Yes, well, uh... Good morning, Mr.
Rathbaird.

Yes, Dickie.

Good morning.

And finally, our resident psychiatrist,
Dr. Lillian Schwarzkopf,

for her weekly column on the couch with
lobotomy Lil.

Dear Lil, I have just undergone the
distressing experience of a mastectomy.

It has left me totally shattered and
unable to cope with life anymore.

Lil replies,

Cheer up, lovey, and keep your pecker
up.

Okay, so you're a knocker down on most
women, but you're still one up on Marty

Kane.

Your contracts all expire at the end of
the month.

They will not be renewed.

It is too good for a man whose mission
to El Salvador as political

resulted in a horse being sawn in half.

I am therefore demoting you to the
lowliest rank possible in a national

newspaper. As from now, you are show
business editor.

Really, Mr. Lipton, are you sure? Not
another word, Greg.

Out! I've got a lot to do.

Joe Russell, probably of which brings me
to what must be one of the greatest

single mysteries in modern civilization.

Who is it that writes the captions for
the page three girl?

What species of deformed mutant can sit
down and compose lines

like these?

Cockney Cawker, Susie Tompkins, 17, is a
real brainy beauty.

She's got an O -level in geography.

Well, as we know one thing, her contours
have certainly put her on the map.

A tree died for this, Russell.

She's a lump of plastic with teeth.

The women here are just about as real as
the robots in Rat World.

Well, as for now, they're out.

There will be no more topless girls in
this newspaper.

It worries me more than I can pay,
Russell. I wish I'd never said I'd on

Dickie Lipton's old medical records.

As the actor in Rep, he suffered a
severe nervous breakdown brought on by

pressures of playing King Lear and Widow
Twankie on alternate nights.

He made a good discovery, of course, and
has been in perfect mental health ever

since.

Nevertheless, Russell... You've got me
worrying as well now, sir.

Who's to say that further emotional
stress, fatigue and confusion might not

again push him over the precipice into
the twilight zone of madness?

Script A50 brings us up to week 46,
which is one of yours, Tony.

Then Gillian's, in which we finally
discover the identity of the child's

Any points, anyone?

Yes. I'm not very happy with the master
storyline, I'm afraid, though I've drawn

up a few changes.

In the first week's episode, Angie kills
herself with a meat cleaver.

After her new lover goes off with Kenny
Everett.

And Doc Cotton becomes pregnant.

After Libby and Gunman occupy the local
laundrette.

A plain invitation from the left -wing
council.

Also, I've rejigged your script for
tomorrow, Jonathan.

The manager gave you the new script
pages to type up.

All right, come on. You've no right to
be in here.

But I presented my documentation at the
gate. I told you, possession of a BBC

licence does not grant you the right to
direct programmes.

There we go.

This is trial by television.

I hope the information I've given you
will be of use in fathoming out the

affair at number 15.

Oh, I'm sure it will. And I've really
enjoyed our three -hour discussion.

Incidentally, some of the other
reporters who've interviewed me thought

little bit strange.

Yeah?

Just because you saw a yeti going into
her house.

Very valuable, eh? I'm not certain it
was a yeti. It was very dark at the

It could have been a yeti or Bigfoot.

as it's colloquially known.

Or indeed, some other gigantic species
of ape -related extraterrestrial from

another world, say, Jupiter or Uranus.

It was very large, with huge, lumbering
feet.

Feet. Terrific. Well, thanks for all the
leaflets.

Incidentally. If you did wish to know
more about my strange sightings and

discoveries, why not pop in one night to
our local society?

It's the South Peckham and District UFO
and Intriguing Phenomena Society.

Spadufoits.

And my name's Pooley.

P -O -O -L -Y.

Trevor.

Pooley. The first evening I get free.

OK, well, all the best, then, and thanks
for your information.

Nice to have met you, Miss Troon. Oh,
nice to have met you, Mr Loopy.

Look, Russell, you're just trying to
confuse me. It doesn't make sense.

How could Dirty Dan's cousin Susie be
having an affair with a former Nazi war

criminal? It's quite clear it's Greg's
copy, Dickie. A man named Jim Barnes.

Yes, but Jim Barnes isn't a former Nazi
war criminal. Well, of course he is.

What, just because he played a Gestapo
officer in a low, low?

No, no, it isn't real. It's just a TV
series.

So is EastEnders, Dickie.

Yes, but in EastEnders, he's not a
Gestapo officer.

No, he isn't in EastEnders, Dickie. He's
in Brookside.

Why should he be having an affair with
Dirty Dan's cousin if she's in

EastEnders? She isn't in EastEnders.
She's in Brookside.

But you just said she was Dirty Dan's
cousin.

She is.

How could Dirty Dan's cousin in
EastEnders be his cousin in Brookside?

She isn't Dirty Dan's cousin in
EastEnders, Dickie.

But you just said she was.

No, she's Dirty Dan's cousin in real
life.

The picket's on the front gate. It took
me half an hour to get through.

The picket?

Well, we settled the Sogat dispute weeks
ago.

It's not Sogat, Russell.

It's worse than that.

Much worse.

As the crippling strike by page three
girls enters its second week, sales of

the major tabloids have tumbled by 60%.
But the girls' newly formed union, the

Democratic Federation of Luscious
Lovelies, plans to stay on strike until

members at the Crucible are reinstated.

General Secretary Mandy Papworth, 18,
said, we're not as brainless as people

think. If necessary, we'll take our case
to amputation.

And then John Helmender today launched
an attack on a new front by

outside the entrance to Rat World, the
multi -million pound amusement park of

Crucible owner Terence Rathbone.

Thousands of potential customers turned
back, refusing to cross the picket line.

The man who started the whole dispute,
Mr Richard Lipton, now being dubbed in

rival newspapers the tit -finder
general, who came on the quarter earlier

outside the Crucible's premises in East
London.

No, I do not prepare to bring back
topless girls in the Crucible. To be

find naked bosoms quite distasteful.
Well, stop toasting them, then.

Quite distasteful and an insult to
women. I intend to preserve and protect

values I hold most dear, the simple
values of human dignity.

This page three dispute is getting out
of hand, Dickie. It was with unbridled

horror that I heard last night how you
were beaten up in an alleyway by a gang

of cavacious cuties. For God's sake,
this must be settled.

As a lifelong socialist, I cannot stand
by and see innocent, sexy Sizzlers

thrown on the scrap heap. I cannot deny
an individual the right to work, for

denying an individual the right to work
is the effect of a bad curry in the

bottom of my heart.

Without in the least usurping your
authority, I've referred this whole

to ACAS, and I trust you'll abide by
their decision.

ACAS?

Right.

Incidentally, I hope you'll let me know
if the strain is getting too much,

Dickie. If I thought all this was
turning you into a mindless, gibbering

I'd have it on my conscience forever.

More Valium.

another report I found snooping around
this morning, I hear. This is about the

only place left now you can get any
privacy.

Confirmed that a deal has been worked
out in this dispute, and I've been asked

to read the following statement.

From midnight tonight, the girls will
resume normal working.

In return, the management of the Daily
Crucible have agreed to reinstate all

photographs of bare breasts backdated to
the 1st of March.

So, there'll be 13 pairs of them on page
three tomorrow.

The pay structure will be phased in with
differentials linked to nipple size.

And for scaled and highly scaled models,
those with more than one facial

expression, there will be an incentive
scheme involving Nick Kershaw's phone

number. Thank you.

Which one do you think, Dickie?

Page three, pick, strike, spiked.

Tip Finder General delts no -blows body
blow as Dreamboat Dolly Deal gives green

light to Presspix Fleshpot Jackpot.

Pardon, Russell.

Huh?

Or this one.

Chest Flash Chick Fans Cheer Chart of a
Cheesecake.

what you're saying to me anymore.

Don't want to think, Jack.

Shovel with the spread, Dickie.

TV star that spills all in the first
installment of her sizzling bonk and

memoirs.

Former actress Goldie Finch tells it
like it is behind the scenes and between

the sheets.

Over the next week, I will reveal, blob,
how I put on black suspenders for

Friar Tuck.

to a Dalek.

Blah. How I was ravished at a showbiz
orgy by Roland Ratt and Orville the

And ended up in a Soho nightclub
snorting copasute.

Russell, I don't think I know what
you're trying to do to me here.

I think I can't see that all this is
just a try and make me crack up.

Sorry, Dickie. Well, it hasn't worked,
has it?

Because I know what your game is.

I know what a tissue of lies all this
is, Russell. Yes, Dickie. Yes, I know.

Because Sooty told me.

Thank you, Sooty.

Right. And from now on, Sooty and I are
taking no nonsense from anyone.

Yes, we're first with the news again, as
the white -hot crucible brings you the

burning issues of the century, the
sensational medical secrets of the

EastEnders. Top -level investigative
journalism triumphs again, as we uncork

amazing urine samples of the soap
superstars. Yes, it's all in their

Who's threatened?

Who's diabetic?

Which well -known character is an
alcoholic?

And just who has an embarrassing
complaint that needs two injections a

it clears up?

Carly Street urologist tests the water
and tells all. All this plus a chance to

win a year at Rat World with the dummy
Queen and Prince Philip. Only in the

crucible tomorrow. The paper with
integrity.

Words cannot describe, gentlemen, the
outrageousness of this tasteless drivel.

Quite aside from how you came to acquire
these unspeakable specimens in the

first place.

I and the BBC want to know what you
propose to do to make amends for this

atrocity.

I understand your feelings, of course.

I fully sympathise with them. I can only
ask you to be assured I'm in total

command of the situation and that I...
Oh, my God, no, sit down. What are you

doing with that metal bar?

Afternoon. I'm Maggie Trink from the
Daily Crucible newspaper.

I wonder if you could spare... Not
today, darling. We're very busy men.

Why don't you hop in like a nice girl,
eh?

Right. I suppose you've heard that the
woman from next door here was found

murdered. Look, we don't know anything
and we haven't seen anyone.

And if we had, we wouldn't tell the
press.

Because they're the scum of the earth.

OK?

Thanks for your help, then.

Let a brick work between these sessions.
Are you using timber or high -tensile

steel for these roof truss collars?

Timber.

I don't give much for your compressive
stress ratios.

See you.

From the University of London, we bring
you Miss Brainy Breasts of Britain,

introduced by your host, Richard Lipton.

And at the end of that run, Stephanie,
you have scored no points today. You

passed on 36.

The letters USA stand for United States
of America.

Contender, please, Miss Rat World.

Miss Rat World is an 18 -year -old
mechanical robot.

Her hobbies are megalomania, self
-publicity, and lifelong socialism.

Her ambition is to go around the world
and buy it.

Greg, may I have the jar of human
organs, please?

And you have dead... They can decide
whether these are Dirty Dan's

or the duck's kidney stones, or Martin
Cain's...

Right, you can paint the front of it any
colour you want.

This is one here that I did earlier.

And I'm sure if your mummy got one of
these for Mother's Day, she'd be

absolutely thrilled to bits. And the
good thing about it...

It was a mistake anyone could have

made, Mr Rathbone. It seems that when
Dickie came to in the BBC studio set of

the series, Casualty, where we left him
for a lie down, he thought it was a real

hospital. He got out of the bed and
stumbled naked into the studio next door

during a live broadcast of Blue Peter.

We can but hope that the shock of
exposing his genitals to millions of

schoolchildren at tea time will not
impede his return to full health. And I,

my part, will personally ensure that his
rest cure at the London Rat Health

Clinic is made as comfortable as
possible and that he's fully shielded

upset that might unhinge his mind.

Well, I feel as fit as a fiddle again
and ready to get back to work at the

crucible again. And may I thank you, Mr.
Rathbone, from the bottom of my heart,

for your kindness, understanding,
tireless support, and... Impressed,

How they do it beats me.

As from tomorrow, this automated robot
will have pride of place at Rat World in

the new exhibit, Great Flashers of the
20th Century.

Well done, Dickie.

off his master, and a story with some
sordid text. Feel someone's secrets we

have grabbed, famous facts that we have
stabbed.

Now you want to know

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