Original subtitles

There are only two things in this world of any worth, Mr. Douglas.

Sex.

And violins.

I was ten, Mr. Douglas, when I realized that sexually I was different from my

friends. But what to do about it?

I knew that I could never change, and yet... Such abomination.

By the age of twelve, I'd learned the first folio of Shakespeare's work.

By 14, I play almost half -string quartets. And then, at 16 years of age,

the private letters of James Joyce to his lifelong lover, Nora Barnacle.

The smallest things, he wrote, give me a cock -dand.

A little brown stain on the seat of your white drawer.

I lost no time.

I immediately resolved to research the sex lives of my greatest heroes.

Friedrich's sister made a habit of playing with his genitals as if they

special toys.

Lord Byron's final nail was to commit incestuous sin with his married half

-sister. My favourite writer, André Gide, confessed attraction to some

or deformed young boys, whilst Tchaikovsky's torture to homosexuality

lame compared to Dostoevsky's paedophilia and violent, sometimes

coital act.

His desire for corporal punishment was held by many, such as Colonel P .E.

Lawrence, who enjoyed a spank with Birch on buttocks, to the point of seminal

omission.

I reveled in the sodomy of Samuel Peete, and, of course, the glory of Donatian

Alphonse Francois, desired.

Even Mozart expected desire to hit on his young love's face. So, far from

alienating me, you see, my...

elevates me to the highest echelons of life.

I knew, I knew, from the age of ten, that in order to

come, I had to kill.

And you, Mr. Douglas, with all your nasty betrayal and deceit, you with

justice on your side, and you who have no doubt laughed at my naivety,

On my neck? Fuck.

So here's the deal.

You use whatever you want.

Where you get them from, I don't care.

Once it's done, you leave.

And I don't ever want to see your fucking face again for as long as I

You fucking look at me!

Now you remember, Charlie.

It's me that gave your life back.

All you've got to do is take those away.

And we're even.

You know, all things considered, your options are few. I mean, the next time

they catch up to you, and they will fucking catch up to you, mate, you won't

even see the light of day.

It's plain and simple.

You follow her.

When she kills Riley, you kill her.

Charlie.

Charlie. Fuck off.

Right.

I'm just saying it's a shame to whack a sexy life, that's all.

Whack? Hey, listen to him, John.

Whack's what you do to your fucking girlfriend when she smells as someone

aftershave. No, no.

I never whacked Linda.

I told her.

She was putting her socks on.

I said, Ted, in Burma.

In Burma, Pet, the women used to have to walk ten feet behind the men until

1945.

Then, do you know what happened then?

No. Well, then, the men made the women walk away in front.

Do you know why? No.

It's because of landmines. That's right. Landmines.

That's because of landmines left behind in Burma after the war.

Now, wait.

Say what you like, Robin.

I wouldn't have made you do that bit.

I mean, she could have, like, walked, you know, like, alongside us, like...

Parallel. I, like, got a parallel, but... Yeah, I mean, I wouldn't have

walk in front.

Would have, though.

All right.

All right.

That's her.

She's gorgeous.

For fuck's sake, man, we're doing a job. Will you stop thinking with your cock?

Didn't he used to say that to me?

Less cock, more brains, right, George?

Otherwise you'll get us fucking killed.

Oh, do you know about Burma?

Well, I just read about it in Russell.

What are you two reading to Pawnee Magwell, isn't it?

Thank you.

Did you make the pickup?

Yeah, it's like clockwork. This is such an easy job, Charlie. I have to be the

one that whacks her, all right?

What the fuck's with all this whacking shit?

I'm just saying that I'm fucking ripped today and I want to do it, all right? I

want to fucking kill her.

I want to fucking fuck her.

Just shut the fuck up!

You just do the job like the nice man says.

Period.

Yes, madam, how can I help you?

Thank you.

Frank,

will you assist the lady with her bags, please? Room 412.

All right. Italian.

All right.

Buongiorno. Buongiorno.

Pardon?

She said it's okay, Frank. Okay. Oh, yes.

Buongiorno.

See you later.

Buongiorno, signora.

Hello.

You'll be needing this tape machine.

You'll be needing this.

The tape recorder.

Sorry.

Il biratore.

I don't know.

Do you want a hand with your... No, no, because... Bagaglio.

Fall too.

All right, George.

Get back down here.

Right. That's that running.

So I'll just leave that there, right?

You've got the bathroom.

The stanza de bagno through there. And the wardrobe.

Liz's jacket.

Aye.

That's the rug.

Anyway, and... Thanks.

And welcome to English Today.

I'm Anna Fortuna, and I'll be your guide through the next ten conversations.

You can use your guidebook to follow the text if you want, or just sit back and

enjoy the tape on its own. Enjoy it on the plane, in the comfort of your hotel

room or office.

The two people who will be giving the English translations are Derek and Joan.

We hope that these lessons will make your holiday in England that much more

enjoyable. Hello, yes.

Anthony, take it.

Yes, I've got it right here.

I suggest we go ahead and still make the exchange today.

I'll be there myself.

Right.

Ciao.

I'd like him dead.

Do you hear?

I know that man knows all about the late, great Douglas and the boys in

want it sorted out.

I want him dead this afternoon.

Philip, old friend.

You're in charge.

Hey, John.

Yeah? What's brown and sticky, mate?

What? What's brown and sticky?

Why? Don't fucking ask me why. You're supposed to say, I don't know, what's

brown and sticky.

I don't care.

That's hardly the fucking point, is it, you wanker? Just say, what is brown and

sticky?

Go on, then.

I just did. I said it, then.

What is brown and sticky?

Your fucking knob of George's arse. Now, why are you asking me?

It's a joke, mate. Well, I don't get it. I haven't fucking told it yet. Yeah, we

get on with it. Now, fuck you.

What is brown and sticky?

The label in these jeans is digging into me.

I've had these jeans two years now.

I got up this morning and suddenly the label started digging into us.

I don't know if I would take the label off then.

That's what it is.

I told her, I said, if I take the label off, you're not going to know how to

wash them properly.

I mean, she said she would, but you know what she's like.

Grazie, Frank.

Grazie.

There she is.

Yes, really.

Frank, you take her out in one go, right? Pull it in the skull.

If you have to fight, you crack her fucking neck in one go, right?

And you stay with her until she's dead.

Right. And when she's dead, you phone me.

Safe, man. Peace.

You fucking... All right, all right, Charlie!

Dickhorn on here, Captain Cook in, and Willy Wonka. Hey, my name's John.

She's not the entrance.

Right.

Let's go get this bitch.

Hello, Wileys!

Hello.

Sad, I feel, when the most exciting thing to happen to you in a day is to

a service entrance.

On the off chance there'll be excitement, when in your heart of hearts

it's a faulty entrance.

Take a look at it.

Beautiful.

Whoa.

Riley. Dov 'è?

Dov 'è?

Riley.

Dov 'è? I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about. Riley is

He's away.

Voglio sapere.

Dov 'è? He's out of town.

He's gone.

Away.

He's on a train ride.

Choo -choo.

Choo -choo.

He, uh...

He won't be back. A che ora arriva il treno?

A che ora arriva?

I'll arrive.

5 .40. Muoviti.

Muoviti. Quale treno?

Quale treno? 5 .40.

Grazie.

I will too.

And she is.

All right.

All right.

All right, Charles.

Calm down, mate.

Yeah.

I'll phone you when it's done. All right, Mama.

Now I... I'm gonna have sex with you.

And then kill you.

Or I can kill you.

I mean, that sucks, but yeah.

I know you don't believe me, do you?

You don't, do you?

In any hour, well, we end up screwing.

I'm lying, then, and I'm already reaching for me Calvin Klein's.

I just want to wipe me knob on the curtains and get out there lively.

And I'm telling you, she turns round and says to me, right out of the blue,

my haircut's the dearest thing I own.

Do you believe that?

No, sorry, but I'm confused.

You're confused.

I was confused.

Yes, sir.

Jesus Christ, what a fucking mess.

This is a total bloodbath.

First on the scene, Mark?

Yes, sir. Saw the door. Thought it was a bit unusual.

Forensics? They're on their way, sir.

Okay.

Anyway, Jim, there lies me proper.

I'm lying there stark as thinking Psycho Tart from the 7 -Eleven.

contemplated making a break for a locked front door. I mean, how do I escape?

To be honest with you, Bob, it's not really your predicament that I'm

about. What are you saying?

You sleep with women every night. You take your chances, if you like.

I like very much.

What I don't understand is how a haircut can be the most expensive thing someone

owns. Exactly, that's what I'm saying. The girl is mad.

No, apart from the man, it's quite simply, in arithmetical terms, it's

one expensive haircut or she doesn't own a fucking thing.

Or both.

Or both.

You just seem to have accepted that and you're concentrating on the part played

by your leaking cock in the whole story. Sorry. Pardon me, Jim, for not

analysing the event's real strengths and intrigues. Tomorrow, we'll talk about

your wife's 20 -pound hairdo.

Is that a dig at a man with a happy and fulfilling home life? No, that's a dig

at a pain -in -the -arse partner.

Next.

Take this.

It's your turn.

Thorough is definitely a word that springs to mind.

Other words that spring to mind are coffee, make some, cups of, someone,

and we're going to be here all day writing this one up.

Great things, words, aren't they?

Just cover Smitty's arse, right?

He's blown it. It's up to you.

Here.

Fix her.

You proud big man.

Who the fuck is this one?

It's Riley!

Oh!

Well, this is fucking brilliant.

We've got what?

Seven?

Eight dead bodies in this place?

That piece of shit got away.

Oh, okay.

What is it?

What do you mean, what is it?

We both know that lunatic kills like rabbit screw.

And at the end of all this, we've still got some lunatic on the loose and Riley.

You know, at least, at least if they would have got him, we'd be right back

where we started.

As it is, we're just done.

We're just losing control. I've got to go to the toilet.

Just below the first floor.

You got your phone?

Riley isn't fucking dead.

Don't kill her.

Do you hear me?

I said Riley isn't fucking dead.

My... Smithy!

You shouldn't have bloody whacked up... Shit.

Okay.

Yeah.

Lipstick.

Lipstick on the corpse on the entry room underneath the powder burns.

You told anyone?

Who? Other than a super.

And say what?

Excuse me, sir, you know the man we're looking for, well, we think he's just

turned out to be the female variety.

Oh, great work, Jim.

How do you know this?

Oh, well, sir, I just got out my ladybug book of forensics. You know the one you

took to solve crimes? Yeah. And voila, result.

You finished?

I think we're looking for a woman.

Yeah.

There's also this.

5 .40.

What do you mean?

What?

I never said anything.

Yeah, you said yeah.

I just said we're looking for a woman and you said yeah.

Not right, or okay right, or okay, but yeah.

Did I? Yes.

I know this because I was there, Bob.

I know you, and I know you know something here.

I'll be two seconds.

Just give me two seconds.

Fitting for England today, Brian.

Get a smithy.

What?

On your phone. Now.

Smithy.

Have I met you before?

What's going on up there?

Do you come here often?

You are very beautiful today.

Smitty? Can I buy you a coffee?

What the fuck is going on?

You have a wonderful sense of humor.

What? What?

You make me laugh.

Hello?

Who the fuck is this?

Who the fuck is this?

Charlie? Charlie?

Hello, Charlie?

Bryant? Who is it? Could you send up some fresh flowers?

Oh, God.

Fuck off.

You're right.

It's a woman.

Our next contestant is Mr. Brian, who is a computer programmer from Basingstoke.

Mr. Brian, to have 60 seconds on your specialist subject, what the fuck is

on? Starting now.

Could you send up some fresh flowers and some fruit as well?

A banana.

An orange.

Ciao, signorina.

It's me, Frank.

Francesco. Yeah.

Very good.

Molto buono.

One of the guests has been complaining about a bit of noise.

You know, crash.

Bang.

Anyway, I told him we've been having some problems with the plumbing on this

level. So I've been checking each of the rooms.

And, well, now it's your turn. I'll just take a quick...

Oh, no, no, disturbare. Aye, that's right.

Disturbia. No. Just for a moment, though. No, no, no.

How about some grapes?

Sir, correct me if I'm wrong.

You thought that if you hired an Italian hitwoman to wipe out Riley, the entire

city would be free from crime and suffering?

You didn't know Douglas?

Am I right so far?

Yeah.

But obviously simplifying it like that just makes it sound ridiculous.

Shit, Bob.

Yeah, it's really fucking easy just to laugh about all this.

Poor old Bobby Bryant.

He's off his rocker this time.

There we go.

It's easy to see what the problem is.

I have a problem.

Sorry, pet. I didn't quite catch all that.

I have lost my way.

There we go.

All done.

Let me tell you something, Jim.

And you listen to me.

Because I don't know whether I'm right or wrong anymore.

But it comes a time when... When you've just had enough.

And you've got to strike out.

And it doesn't matter whether you wear a badge or your whole good moral

principles.

You've just got to hit back.

See what that fuck did to Douglas.

How was that time for me?

Where in God's name did you find her? Yellow pages?

You can get anything if you want it bad enough.

Contracted by a middleman.

She never even knew my name.

The thing is, she's expensive.

Really expensive.

You can't afford to pay the bill.

Why don't we just leave her?

I don't know where my money...

My money is in the case.

Forensics are here, sir.

They're starting from the bottom up.

Right, Mark.

We'll be here if they need us.

Yes, my friend.

It's best kept between...

Anthony. Always good to see you.

I see that your men are looking as smart as ever.

That's an estimable trait.

Have you got the stuff?

I believe that is the general idea.

You know, I think it was in ancient Babylon that the poets would recline

the banks of the river and compose their verse in solitude by themselves.

Sometimes for hours they'd sit and write till they felt their opus was complete.

and then fold the paper upon which they'd worked into a watertight

which they'd fill with wine, and place upon the river's flow.

Naturally, the artist, one downstream, would receive the parcel, drink the

and share in the beauty of his benefactor's work from the surface of

nectar's carton.

Hence, the glory of the work was passed from man to man.

Well, you know, Very nice, Jacob.

What the fuck are you on about?

Nothing of any relevance.

No, that would be impressive.

What the bloody hell is this?

What on earth did you expect?

Come on, Bob.

I think I prefer the arrogant, misogynistic Bob to the depressed and

What do you want me to do?

Well, make some semblance of an effort to look as though you're working.

What, like you are?

I, my friend, am impersonating a quick -witted, active detective, thinking on

his feet, one step ahead of the villains.

While you, it would appear, are doing a fine impression of a man drawing a

spider's web.

It's an onion.

I seem to have lost all my money.

I don't know where my money is.

My money is in the case.

I could always

give you a traveler's check.

I have dropped my ice cream.

You're set.

Right.

Just go in there and check the place out.

If you find out what happened to the others, fair enough.

But do not make a fucking move without me.

You just wait in the bar, okay?

Aye, man, whatever.

That's that smitty token. And unless I'm mistaken, George, he's already dead.

Just get going and I'll get rid of the barn.

I would really like a drink.

Let's go to the bar.

I just think it's very ironic that you should hire a woman to do a job like

this.

Jim, you're just like every other married man with kids I know.

You're well aware of the fact that I can go out and pick up any woman which I

choose to.

So instead of me and your jealousy, you all pretend to be contented with your

lot. And get your kicks from your secretary's Christmas kiss.

And just wish, just wish that you had the gut to go and buy a porn over it.

Or visit, or visit some red light district just once.

Neither of which us bachelors in fact need to do.

Yet it is us who you see fit to label misogynistic.

Finished. It's true though, isn't it?

Nope.

Whiskey ice, please. Gracias.

I have lost my

way. Please,

show me.

Deep out of my head, it's Trump, Trump, Rupert.

Do you really think I get turned on by my secretary's Christmas kiss?

You don't have a secretary, do you?

Oh, stop him, someone. You know what I mean.

I don't know, I suppose.

Any kiss is supposed to have somewhat of a such -like effect, isn't it?

There was a Roman writer, Cato, who tells us that kissing was

invented in Rome by suspicious husbands who were detecting whether their wives

had been drinking wine.

Just goes to show, doesn't it?

About time to change.

Have you been at the bottle pit?

Come here.

That's nothing.

After the Second World War, in Burma, you may not believe this, but the

women used to have to walk ten feet behind the men until 1945.

When the men made the women walk away in front because of the landmines left

behind in Burma after the war.

Now what do you think of that?

We'll be right back.

Jesus!

I told you once in time that I'd see you in the morning glow. So baby, baby,

baby, how could you see what I see right there?

When you're around, you can show me.

Thank you.

thank you

May I?

Make some friends.

No.

I have a problem.

Where do you come from?

Where?

Where do you come from?

You wouldn't fucking believe me if I told you.

Fuck's sake, man.

I'm trying to die.

Who do you think made you, fucking God?

Ascolta. Is this the last one?

Last one?

Si.

Si. Last.

One.

Why should I tell you?

Dímelo.

Are you the last one?

Jesus Christ!

It was fucking Brian!

It was a big old Brian!

Yes. Fucking buzzer.

He's a pig.

He's a fucking cop. Cop.

Brian is cop.

Brian Poliziot.

It must be an easy job.

Kill you and walk away.

Dead.

I am dead.

Brian thinks I'm dead.

You think I'm dead.

Black. Really?

Really?

This is me.

Grazie. Whichever way you look at it, Bob, you were wrong.

It's time to put it right.

What do you say?

Well, well, well.

Mr. Madison and Mr. Bryant.

I thought that two fun tricksters like yourselves would be behind a prank like

this. Tell me, are you hiding whoopee cushions behind your backs?

We've come to share some information of mutual benefit, Jacob.

I'm sure you'll cooperate and keep the peace.

To praise and not to bury her.

What if I choose war?

Oh, it's already been declared, Riley.

But not by me, and sure as shit, not by you.

We here, we're the only ones left standing.

I'll move right into your glass of wine.

Well, I like her already.

And yet I see she's not doing that, my dear.

Why? How the fuck do I know?

I've got to get this man to a hospital. Yes, I'm sure.

That doesn't explain why I'm still alive.

Puta la pistola.

Now we're getting warmer.

Yes, an Italian assassin.

How cosmopolitan.

Then put your nose around it, Donna.

No, I don't.

You speak Italian?

Do you speak any English?

No.

Look, Riley, just give her the case.

All she wants is money. Just give her the case.

Please, I've got to get this man to a hospital. Just give her the fucking

Now, look, you'll get your life and she'll get some money.

Shall we get him my money? I don't like the sound of that. I seem to lose a

great deal more than you. No, fuck that, Riley! Just give her the fucking case!

You take it or leave it.

I'll take it, old boy.

You translate everything I say word for word.

Now you tell her my name is Bryant.

Isikiyama Bryant.

Bryant.

What did you say, little Riley?

I just told her your name, old chap. Crossed my heart and hoped to die.

Bryant, this cop.

Yes, I'm afraid he is, my dear, and not a very good one at that.

How about...

Not quite as bad as his bungling friend, Mr. Douglas.

By the way, how is Mr.

Douglas?

You just tell her.

You tell her that it was me.

It was fucking me that contracted her to kill you.

And now the penny drops.

And I must say, Mr.

Bryant, that I'm very disappointed.

You of all people should know the revenge of the dish best served cold.

Just fucking tell her, Riley.

Better, if you're enough.

You just tell her that her hair's off and you've got the money to power that

case.

What

the

fuck did you say, Lord?

The truth of the hotel is nothing but the truth.

Bryant. Seems she likes you already.

Please. The money's in the case.

The money's in that case!

Don't waste your breath, Bryant.

Time's up.

The money is in the case.

OK.

Grazie.

This concludes our English lesson for today.

I hope that these lessons have been useful to you and hope that your holiday

the UK was an enjoyable one.

We look forward to seeing you back again soon.

I'm Anna Fortuna for English Today.

you

I don't care.