All language subtitles for The.League.Of.Gentlemen.S03E01.1080p.BluRay.x264-TABULARiA_track3_[eng]

(WIND HOWLS)

(SIGHS)

David...

I'll always love you.

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

(SCREAMING)

We're alive! (LAUGHS)

Where are we, Tubbs?

Erm...| think we're following
new road.

David would have been proud.

Where are you taking us?

| thought we could go
to London.

I've got a map!

| suppose we could start again.

A new shop, a new life.

Will we still be local?

Yes, Tubbs...
but in a different way.

Well, we just need
to cross over this bridge,

pass the big clock,

and London is
inside this building here.

Tubbs, are you sure

- this is new road?
- Yes, Edward!

| can see it. Lines and lines
and lines and...

PRISONER 1: ...are worth three.

PRISONER 2: Apart from one-eyed
jacks, which are wild cards.

Hokey-cokey, pig-in-a-pokey...

She's going for the pink.

Oh, look who it is!
Eunice Evans,

the Royston Poisoner.

Pauline...

They've let you out
of solitary, have they?

What are you doing
sniffing round my patch?

| hope they've not put you
on canteen duty.

She wants to borrow the Exocet.

Oh, | bet she does.

All those...

... lonely nights.

- Well, it'll cost you.
- How much?

Five.

I've only got three.

Let's see 'em.

Gawd, pathetic.
Look at that one!

There's barely an inch left
in it.

I've got the promise of a pink
Pentel! I-I just need time!

Time's all you've got,
sugarnips.

You're lucky
I'm in a good mood.

I'll get it to you
by lights out.

You'd best give it a rinse
first.

Thanks, Pauline.

Of course, there are other ways
you could pay me.

How do you mean?

It's nothing to be ashamed of,
Eunice.

A lot of girls go pink
on the inside.

| can't.

Course you can.

Big girl like you.

There's plenty of meat-maids in
here. In't that right, Lozzer?

| just don't have it in me.

Well, you will have tonight,
mama. Whoo!

I'm sorry, Pauline,

but I've still got
a loving husband,

and you don't know
what that's like.

You just don't know
what that's like!

- Pauline?
- Hmm?

Are you going to come
and kiss the twins goodnight?

Soz, Loz, I'm not in the mood.

- (TOY SQUEAKS)
- I'm going to be 50

by the time | leave this place.

And then what?

I'd always imagined myself
setting up

a nice little shop
on the high street.

Her Nibs, it'd be called.

Two fountain pens
either side of the door.

Like a barber's?

Yeah, but pens.

And inside, an Aladdin's cave
of calligraphic materials -

gel pens, highlighters,

perhaps quills
for your specialist customer,

mail order.

And I'd have
a little flat above and...

...a girl who did
Saturday mornings.

And every night after closing,
I'd take the lids off

all the bottles of Quink
and just...

(LOUD SNORING)

But it's just a dream,
isn't it?

- (KEYS JANGLE)
- (FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

It's never gonna happen.

(DOOR CLANGS OPEN)

Campbell-Jones,
you've got a visitor.

Barbara, you have a pick-up
at the women's prison

in 20 minutes. Over.

Are you receiving me,
Pink Lady? Over.

All right!

Keep your wig on!

(FUNEREAL MUSIC)

(MUSIC OFF)

I'd like to thank you all
for coming this afternoon.

I'm sure that our Peter
would have been proud

to see so many people
at his funeral.

All of you that knew Peter...

- Crap!
- What were wrong with that?!

Where's the music?

The organ music carries on
through the eulogies.

We don't want to run
the batteries down.

Is that what you're going
to say on the day -

"Forget Peter,
we'd rather have batteries"?

Get that music on.

It's meant to be a dress
rehearsal. And what's he doing

wearing trainers?!

That's hardly showing proper
respect to your grandad, is it?

(MUSIC RESTARTS)

That's better.
Yeah, that's more like it.

| want a good atmosphere.
Carry on.

All of you that Knew Peter

would like to blah, blah,
blah, blah, blah...

Oh, blah, blah, blah, blah,
blah? What were that?

Oh, come on, Peter,
we all know this bit.

We've done it 20 times.

Yeah, we'll do it 20 more times
till you get it right!

| want to know exactly
what everyone's going to say.

But, Peter, we don't know
how we're going to feel when...

- ...the time comes.
- Oh, that's nice, in't it?

Me own wife doesn't know
how she's going to react

at my memorial! What do you
think you might do, Sheila?

Have a barbecue?

- No!
- You've upset her now!

She's meant to be upset!

It's her husband's
bloody funeral!

You shouldn't talk to her
like that.

- She's enough to cope with.
- Oh, I'm sorry...!

I'm sorry me blood's not right

and I'm going to be dead
within the year.

"Prepare yourself" -
that's what the doctor said.

But this is all too much.

Six weekends we've been here.

Oh, well,
just put me in a bin bag,

leave me out
with the rest of the rubbish.

Maybe we'll just do that.

You'll never know, will you?

Ooh-ho-ho, what did | tell you?

Me own brother!

What you gonna do,
dance on me grave, as well?

Unbelievable!

Right, Stephanie,
get your recorder.

We'll have There's No One
Quite Like Grandad.

Right, there you go.

You can pay me on Friday,
when you come to me party.

Oh, right, yeah.
How old are you going to be?

The big four-oh.
So many candles to get through!

As we used to Say in prison.

Hello, Mickey, love.

Pauline!

- Here y’are.
- Oh, thanks.

Er, Mickey, did you do
all these...paintings?

- (SLURPS) Yeah.
- They're good.

Y'see, | always knew
you had hidden talents.

You've hardly gone over
any of the lines.

The blue felt ran out
on this one.

That's why
a bit of the sea is green.

Well, you can have a green sea.

Especially if you wee in it,
like | do!

(TUTS) Oh, Mickey!

| wanted to come and see you
in prison, Pauline,

but our Craig said
it wasn't allowed.

He said it was full of...
lib...rarians.

It was.

| can't tell you how many books
| flicked through.

- What are you gonna do now?
- I'm not sure.

| Know there's some sheltered
accommodation over in Sorehole.

- Maybe | could...
- You can stay here.

What's that, Mickey, love?

Stay here, have my bed.

Oh...

No...h...

| couldn't.

Besides,
what would your mam say?

Nowt. She's dead.

Oh, | am sorry, Mickey!

It's all right. We still get
her dole money.

- Please stay, Pauline!
- | can't!

| haven't got a job, | haven't
got any money to offer you...

It don't matter
about the money!

It does!
I'm not scrounging off you.

Please!

Please.

- Well, all right, then.
- Yeah!

But | insist
on going on the floor.

We have got a toilet.

- (KNOCKING)
- PETER: Get a move on,

the wake starts in ten minutes!

(KNOCKING)

- Come in.
- (DOOR OPENS)

Sit down, as usual.

Now,

what seems to be the problem?

Well, I've been having
these really bad headaches

for about six months now,

and | just feel
there's something wrong.

I'll be the judge of that,
if you don't mind!

I'm going to prescribe you
some tablets.

They're called paracetamol,

and you are to take two
at the first sign

of the pain recurring.
Now, go out, would you?

Actually, Dr Carlton,

I've already tried paracetamol
and co-proxamol -

they just don't seem to work.

So?

So perhaps | should have
some tests?

You see, once again,
you're overstepping the mark,

and | don't like it...

...one bit.

Bed-wetting?

- No.
- Would you describe yourself

as a neat, tidy person?

- | try to be.
- Methodical?

- Yes.
- Oh, so you're obsessional,

which is a trait often ascribed
to hypochondriacs.

| don't think I'm imagining it.

You may think that. | don't
know that | share your view.

And there | think
this interview will end.

- Go out, would you?
- I'm willing to go private.

Mrs Beasley...

...you Cannot buy my opinion as
you would buy a used motorcar.

That is not the way we practise
medicine in this country.

Well, can | see another doctor?

No!

They won't take you.

We'll do things properly,
if you don't mind.

Come and see me again
in 22 weeks.

Now, go out, would you?

Go out, would you?

(SOBS)

(CRUNCHES)

| am now satisfied
that your pain is genuine.

Thank you.

Are you writing me
a prescription?

No.

This is my private address.

You will come to me
In two nights' time,

and you may find
that | am willing

to help you control your pain.

However,

as a private patient,

you will be expected
to earn your treatment.

Oh, two further things...

You will bring

one brand-name bottle of cola

and a large Hawaiian pizza.

Stuffed crust?

Yes.

And bring some pyjamas.

It may be necessary
for you to stay overnight.

I'm sorry I'm late,

| had to pop into Hammonds
for a chapstick.

Yeah,

two coffees, please -
one white, one black.

Oh, have you got a spare snout?

Ta.

So...

... here we are, then.

Yes. Here we are.

How are you enjoying
your freedom?

I'd hardly call it freedom,
Ross.

Well, surely living with
Mickey's better than prison.

There's still shit
on the walls.

I'm not interested
in his personal habits,

only his working ones.
What have you got for me?

Right, let's see.

You know about him working
the corner of Bundy Gardens

with the windscreens,
don't you?

We've known about that
for weeks.

It's not enough
for a conviction.

It's barely enough
for a chapstick.

- What else?
- Erm...

Oh, here's a good one.
You'll like this.

The mother's dead.

- What?!
- | know!

Apparently,
the eldest one, Craig,

dresses up like
Norman fucking Bates

and goes and signs her on
every other Tuesday!

- What about Mickey?
- What about him?

Do you have his trust?

No, but | think
I've got his nits.

Do you have any evidence
he's been working?

No, | think you're barking

- up the wrong tree, Ross.
- | need you to get

- closer to him.
- I'm in his friggin’ bedroom!

How close do you want?!

When he gets up in the night,

| can hear him
through the walls,

pooing and weeing
at the same time.

And that's
in the airing cupboard.

- So what are you saying?
- I'm saying he's thick,

he stinks
and he lives in a shithole.

There's nothing more to him!

- (MOUTHS)
- Look, Pauline,

these are the facts.
Between them,

Mickey and his brothers have
been on the dole for 63 years.

They've claimed over £133,000
in benefits.

| studied for three years
at university...

Polytechnic.

It's a university now!

...and when | left,
| never signed on.

| never asked anyone
for anything,

| just worked and worked
every hour God sent

to pay off my debts.

Why should the tax
on my earnings go directly

into the pockets of this mass
of cheating dole s...

"Scum"?

You've got
until the end of the week.

That wasn't the deal, Ross!

The deal, Pauline,

is you stay until you bring me
something concrete!

Just remember
who got you out of prison.

Yeah, and | remember

who put me there
in the first place, as well.

If you don't cooperate,
you'll lose everything.

You could say goodbye to
your precious little pen shop,

cos it ain't gonna happen.

Keep up the good work, Pauline.
We're partners now, remember.

- Did anybody see you arrive?
- No.

Did you inform anybody
you were coming here tonight?

- No-one.
- Good.

You understand what goes on
in private between a patient

and a doctor is to be treated
in the strictest confidence

- by both parties?
- | do.

| mean, yes.

Oh! I'm sorry, Doctor.
It's getting worse.

| feel nauseous all the time.

| seem to have this effect
on many of my patients.

Here, let me relieve you
of the items.

Now, have you brought
your pyjamas?

- Yes.
- Then go upstairs, please,

and wait for me in my bedroom.

We'll see if we can't...
take your mind off the pain.

(DOOR CREAKS)

(SOFT WHIMPERING)

BARBARA: Hello, gorgeous!

What's a nice girl like you
doing at a party like this?

'Ey, ‘ey, ‘ey, ‘ey, you, what
you doing, chatting up my date?

| thought you were meant to be

- an officer and a gentlemen.
- Oh, ‘ello, Pauline.

‘Ey, don't be giving me
any more drink.

I'm already half-cut.

When are they doing
the other half?

Well, when the baby's born,
there's bound to be

some natural tearing, so...

Come on, Mickey, love,
you don't wanna hear this.

Let's dance!

Ah, good, | see you've all met
Mrs Beasley,

who's going to be joining us
this evening.

Allow me to make
some introductions.

Firstly, this is Mrs Stevens...

Hello.

Hello.

Mr Fishwick,
who has some sort of

- urinary infection.
- Hello.

And this is little Paul,
Paul Reed,

and you've got problems with
your tummy, haven't you, Paul?

(TUMMY GURGLES)

Ahhh! And finally, Miss Taylor,

who simply requires

a repeat prescription
of a salbutamol asthma inhaler.

- Hello.
- (WHEEZILY) Hello.

Now...

...the first game we're going
to play this evening is

grandmother's footsteps,
so if you'd all like to put in

your potatoes, we will see

who is to take the part
of grandmother.

One potato, two potato,
three potato, four,

five potato, six potato,
seven potato, more.

O-U-T spells out!

Mrs Beasley! Beginner's luck.

- Oh...!
- (OTHERS CLAP)

If you'd like to join me

- at the end of the room...
- Right.

Oh, Doctor, my head...

Ask no questions, tell no lies

| saw a policeman zipping up
his...

Flies are a nuisance
Bees are worse

And that is the end
Of my little verse.

- Ohhh...
- And so the game begins.

(CLOCK TICKS QUIETLY)

(FLOORBOARDS CREAK)

Mickey? I've been thinking
about you and your drawings.

Why?

Have you ever thought
about trying to sell ‘em?

What, for money?

No, for jelly babies.
Of course for money!

- Nah, not bothered.
- You could,

y'know. It'd be easy.
Just set yourself

a nice little stall
in the high street.

Pauline, that's
self-employment, in't it?

Well, only if someone found out
about it. Besides,

they've got bigger fish to fry
than you, Mickey, love.

| don't think so.

Well, you've got to do
something!

You can't live off no-frills
yoghurts all your life!

They're nice.

Where are you getting
all your money from?

- Giro.
- Don't tell me

you live off a fucking giro,
cos it's impossible!

You must be doing something
on the side.

- Get off me, Pauline!
- No!

- Get off me!
- | need answers.

You're hurting me hand!

You big girl!

Erm...

Anybody?

The little boy?

Paul!
It seems you are eliminated.

And so your pain continues
for another week.

Now, go out, would you?

- He makes his own problems.
- (DOOR CLOSES)

Continue.

Ah...ha!l Once again,
| win the game. Now,

we will have a short break for
jelly, cola, pizza, ice cream.

And Mr Fishwick and |
will prepare the room

for busy buzzy bumbles.

- (PARTY CONTINUES DOWNSTAIRS)
- (SOBS)

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

I'm sorry, Mickey, love.

| didn't mean to upset you.

Was it because
| mentioned work?

| Know what you're
trying to do!

What do you mean?

Thanks for saying
about my drawings, but...

...1 don't want to do that.

| want to be a fireman.

Oh, Mickey, you can't...

| Know | can't!

But | have to dream, don't |?

Like you and your shop.

Without that, | ain't got owt.

Come here, you big, daft sod.

Mickey...you are a good man,
aren't you?

Not tonight.

I'm a woman.

Yes...

...and a very attractive one,
too.

We did well with them spots,
didn't we,

turning them all into freckles?

Yeah.

Mickey, I've...
I've got to tell you something.

I've been a fool. I...

Yeah!

Yes!

Go on, take it! Take it!

(PAULINE GASPS)

Come here!

Oh!

Come on! OK, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait.

Wait!

(PAULINE INHALES)

Mmm.

Pauline...

...be gentle with me.

Don't worry, Mickey, love.

(PATIENTS SCREECH)

That's right, Mrs Beasley,
keep that going.

That's right.
That's right, Mrs Beasley.

(PAULINE SIGHS CONTENTEDLY)

| don't know
where that moustache went.

Hmm.

- Pauline?
- Hmm?

Is it cos | was dressed
as a lady?

No, Mickey, love. Not at all.

I'm just glad | finally managed
to give you some sort of job.

Yeah.

Will it affect me dole money?

Brilliant...!
Where is everybody?

Late for my own funeral.

(WEDDING MUSIC)

Oh, where've you been?

| could have been dead by now.

What's this?
You've got the wrong tape in.

This is the music from our
Sharon and Philip's wedding.

- (MUSIC OFF)
- So, by this time,

the bridesmaids will be
In position

and the vicar will have begun
the service.

What bridesmaids?
I'm not having bridesmaids!

Are there any persons
here present

who know of any reason
why these two people

should not be joined
in holy matrimony?

| do! Me! The husband!

| now pronounce us
man and wife.

You may kiss the bride.

No, no, what you doing?
That's not right!

That was a good rehearsal,
wasn't it, Sheila?

Well, you've got to get
these things right.

Isn't that what our Peter
always used to say?

But I'm not dead yet!

‘Ey, come on, Sheila.

Let's go and practise
for t'wedding night!

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

(INAUDIBLE)

(DOOR BUZZER)

ROSS: Hello?

- It's me.
- Come on up.

(DOOR BUZZES)

Well,
this is a pleasant surprise -

a home visit.

Can | get you a drink?
Tea or coffee?

Er, no, I-I'd better not.
Mickey's expecting me.

| promised I'd help him
shave his back this afternoon.

Nice...
Well, | presume you've got

- some new information for me.
- | certainly have.

Good. I'll just get the file.

You've got it, er, very cosy
in here, Ross, | must say.

- Very cosy.
- So,

what have you got for me?

It's about Mickey.

- Yes?
- He's getting married.

Oh, is he?

The plot thickens.

She's pregnant, no doubt.

- | hope not.
- Go on, then,

who is the poor bitch?

It's me.

What?

Mickey's asked me to marry him
and I've said yes.

- You and Mickey?
- Yes.

Are getting married?

Yes!

(LAUGHS)
The lesbian and the monkey!

Sounds like
one of Aesop's Fables!

Yeah, like the big, black crow
who had to keep putting stones

into other people's water cos
his own beak couldn't reach.

That's Fingerbobs, isn't it?

Well, whatever. | love Mickey
and Mickey loves me.

- Oh, really?
- Yes.

So, suddenly you have
human emotions, do you?

Unlike some people
| could mention!

We had a deal, Pauline.

- The deal's off, Ross.
- Oh, simple as that?

You can do whatever you want
with me.

You can send me back to prison.
| don't care.

Don't worry, | will be
sending you back to prison.

| don't care.

I'm in love.

What, with a man who's thick,
stinks and lives in a shithole?

Correct.

Well, I'm very pleased for you,
Pauline...

Thank you.

| presume | won't be invited
to the wedding.

What do you think?

It's a shame we won't be
working together any more.

| was just beginning
to enjoy it.

Can | offer you a drink
to toast your engagement?

- No, thank you.
- Come on, Pauline,

you'll be back in the Clitclink
by the end of the week.

Why not have one last...
taste of freedom?

Goodbye, Ross.

(DOORBELL RINGS REPEATEDLY)

Pauline!

Paul...

Delivery for Mr Michaels?

- Yeah.
- There you go.

It's a present for my financée.

Right, love.

Sorry, excuse me.

Sorry.

So, what are we going to do
now, then?

| dunno.

Late breakfast,

- read the papers?
- | mean...

...about this.

Oh. Well, seeing as
| don't have enough evidence

to prosecute Mickey...
The file's on there,

if you want to take it.

| presume
that's why you did that.

Yeah.

Thanks.

You do realise
I'm going to have to tell him?

What?

Well, he's my friend...

...and | just betrayed his
trust in the most intimate way.

| couldn't live with myself
if | didn't tell him.

Could you?

Why are you doing this, Ross?

Because you made me hate
my job.

(PHONE KEYS BEEP)

(RINGING TONE)

You'd better hurry, Pauline.

(CLATTER)

(PHONE RINGS)

(RINGING TONE)

ROSS: You'd better hurry,
Pauline.

You do realise
I'm going to have to tell him?

(SCREAMS)