Original subtitles

[♪♪♪]

- Say, Dick-nick...

who do you think is more important?

A chiropractor making six figures

or a well-connected taxidermist?

- Well, it depends on whether I have

a bad back or a dead bear.

Why?

- Well, we're picking potential godfathers

for our little prodigy in progress.

- So far, we've narrowed the "A" list down to 85

of our most prominent friends and relations.

- Would you like to know where you stand

on the latest Harris poll?

Let's see, Loudon, Loudon.

- Michael, you're forgetting Dick didn't make the second cut.

- Right.

But you did make the "B" list.

See?

- Dick.

- So then Prince Philip turns to his trusty butler and he says,

"You idiot, I told you to make the Queen rum,

not make the Queen mum."

- Ha, ha, ha, ha!

- Oh, you got that one, did you, George?

- Not even close.

- Oh, does this mean I'm losing my favorite chess partner?

- Oh, I'm afraid that's a check, mate.

- Well, since I can't change your mind,

I'll total your bill.

You know, I-I really enjoyed that story you told

about Prince Albert and the can.

I mean, I....

You know, I was sure that, you know, you meant tobacco.

- Oh, ha-ha-ha-ha.

- Here you go.

- Oh, I say, I seem to be rather low on funds.

- That's all right, we take credit cards, traveler's checks,

gold bullion.

- I seem to be rather low on everything.

- Reginald.

Dick, you're not letting him get away, are you?

- Not if I can stop him.

- Reginald is stiffing you on the bill.

- Oh, I'm sure this is just another one of Reginald's jokes,

like that one you told about Fergie,

when she couldn't pay her bill at that spa in Brighton.

- Oh yes, yes, dear Fergie.

Yeah, she may be short of pounds,

but she's certainly not short of pounds.

- I want my 800 bucks.

- Oh yes, well, I'm sure there's something we can do about--

I've got it.

For you, my good host.

- Well, I'm very flattered,

but I'm--I'm pretty happy with Joanna.

- I'm available.

Oh, sure, I make a joke and nobody laughs.

- What--what--what is this?

- It represents my claim to a British lordship.

It's legitimate, I assure you.

Here, the paperwork seems to be in order, I believe. What?

- Well, it's a--it's a very pretty ring,

but I couldn't help noticing your gold Rolex.

- I don't believe you're grasping the import here,

old thing.

You see, from this day forth,

you're no longer a humble little innkeeper.

You are Richard Loudon, Lord of Stumpworth-on-Thames.

Well, must dash.

Oh, welcome to British nobility, Richard,

or rather, Your Lordship.

- Well, I think we just got the shaft.

- Yes, but the royal one.

- I get that.

- It's not a joke, George. - Oh.

- Hi, I'm Larry, this is my brother Darryl

and this is my other--huh?

My other brother Darryl has cut short my intro

due to his astonishment in seeing the signet ring

of the Lord of Stumpworth-on-Thames.

- How did you know?

- Darryl minored in royal genealogy

when he was on his rowing scholarship at Oxford.

- Funny, I-I always had Darryl pegged as a-a Cambridge man.

- No, that was Darryl here.

Imagine the ribbing my brothers gave me

when I ended up going to Montpellier Trade Tech.

- Darryl, I can't believe I'm asking,

but can you tell if this is authentic?

- It's legit, all right.

Darryl would recognize the Queen's tea stains anywhere.

- So I really am the Lord of Stumpworth-on-Thames?

- You may be a lord, Dick, but you put your overalls on

one strap at a time, just like the rest of us.

- I-I don't wear overalls, George.

- Too good, huh?

- You know, it might be kind of fun being Lady Loudon.

- I-I'm not sure, you know, if--if my being a lord,

you know, makes--makes you a lady.

I mean, you know, technically speaking.

- But we could still call me Lady Loudon just for fun, right?

- Oh, we could.

But that would be wrong.

- Michael, tell them the good news or I'll explode.

- After whittling away at our "A" list,

we're ecstatic to announce that Baby X's new god-padre is...

- My Great Uncle Ta-Ta.

- Ta-Ta? - Yes, Ta-Ta.

- Not only is he well heeled and well preserved,

he's Steph's only unindicted male relative.

- He's been lonely and miserable

holed up for years in that old dark mansion,

but when I told him the wonderful news,

he took a big hit of oxygen and wept tears of joy.

- Well, he sounds like a happy Ta-Ta.

- Carry me back to old Wisconsin,

there's mucho mozzarella on that pie.

- Extra cheese from Mama Varicella.

What are you, royalty or something?

- I was just made a British lord,

but it's no big deal and please don't bow or curtsey.

- He's pulling your newly waxed leg, lambskin.

They don't give genuine lordships

to just any old doofus.

- Dick is not just any old doofus.

- Reggie couldn't pay his bill,

so he stuck me with this stupid title.

- So, does this make you Lady Loudon?

- You would think so, wouldn't you?

- She, uh, she lost--lost out on a technicality.

- Was it your hair?

- No!

- Calling all Harrises.

Congrats, Lord Loudon.

After agonizing deliberation,

we've selected you as god-poppy to our prized prodigy.

- We're so happy for you.

- Well, what a wonderful and incredibly shallow gesture.

- Thank you. - We thought so.

- Won't this upset your Ta-Ta when you tell him?

- She's right.

Unless this is handled delicately,

it could crush the very life out of him.

- We won't tell him.

We'll fax him the news first thing tomorrow morning.

- You're a softie, you know it?

- Well, your lovable lordship,

we bid you a royal farewell and for you, Joanna,

a generic nighty-night should suffice.

- A generic nighty-night back at you.

- Don't you want to say goodnight

to your future godchild?

- G-Goodnight, kid.

- There, you see, I told you I smelled pizza.

- Oh, you're always smelling pizza.

- We'd like to request an audience

with Richard Loudon, Lord of Stumpworth-on-Thames.

- Look, w-will you give the bowing a rest?

Wh-What do you want?

- Well, we'd like Your Highness to use his royal wisdom

to settle a dispute.

Chester thinks it's time for me to get a haircut,

but I disagree.

- Oh, grab a mirror, Jim.

You look like one of those ragamuffin MTV punks.

- Admit it, Chester.

You're just jealous of my boyish appearance.

- This is idiotic. I'm no barber.

- We know, you're a lord.

We're waiting, Your Lordship.

- I think you could use a little trim.

- There, you see, Jim?

Now, before we waste the rest of a perfectly good evening,

let's go back to your house and finish that game of Battleship.

I'm going to destroy your fleet if it takes me all night.

- I'll meet you in the car.

I'm awaiting a decision on my sideburns.

- You know, Jim, this is getting kind of sad.

- Well, actually, that was just a device to get you alone.

- And an ingenious one.

- Well, here's the skinny.

Have you heard about the bait and tackle shop

that's opening this weekend?

- Who hasn't?

It's been the lead story in the news all week.

- We had a secret meeting of the town council today

and we voted for you, our beloved Lord Loudon,

to do the ribbon cutting honors.

- Isn't that one of the mayor's jobs?

- Well, this is too big for a mayor.

This is Vermont's first in-mall live bait shop.

Boy, you know what that means?

- Yeah, it--it isn't outside...

which is where a live bait shop should be.

- Then you'll do it.

Oh, hot dog!

I hope we can also count on Lady Loudon's presence?

- I'm sure Mrs. Loudon might tag along.

- Boy, what a coup!

- Well, this is going to destroy Chester.

He became mayor just so he could cut ribbons.

- Honey, what can I do? Th-The people have spoken.

My people have spoken.

- Oh, my Lord.

- You, uh, you can still call me Dick.

- What's with the new suit?

- Well, Giuseppe, the tailor, thought that I should wear

something more befitting my station at the...

at the ribbon cutting.

- You bought a custom-made suit?

- It--it was free, but I'm--I'm letting Giuseppe

hang a sign above his shop that says,

"I'm-a the guy that made-a the nice suit for Lord Dick."

- A spot of tea, My Lord?

- I wouldn't mind a spot.

H-Hit me.

- A spot of tea? You hate tea.

- I know, but I just feel I should be doing

something very British-y.

- Before I fetch M'Lord his scones,

might I pick his royal brain?

- Pick away, my child.

- Michael and I were hoping you could help us elect

a suitable godmother.

- What about Joanna?

- Get real, Your Highness.

A lord for godfather

and a common wench for godmother?

- Couldn't you just pretend that Joanna was--was a lady?

- I suppose, but that would be wrong.

- Well, I guess it's time for this common wench

to go milk the cows and sing some bawdy songs.

- She's simple, but good folk.

- Anyway, if it's not a bother,

I was wondering if you could call the Queen of England

and ask her to be our baby's godmother.

- Well, I don't know that the Queen would want to talk to--

what--what am I saying?

I mean, we are both noble.

- Thank you.

I'll see to your scones now.

Long live you, M'Lord.

- And long live you too.

- What--what--what is that?

- The royal wave.

- Ah!

- Want to know where I've been all morning?

Listening to Chester spill his guts

about this ribbon cutting thing.

- He-He's that upset, huh?

- No Dick, he's spilling his guts in a happy way.

What a twit.

Thanks to you, my old pal Chester's a broken mayor.

It may sound silly, Your Fancy-Pants Lordship,

but he loves cutting ribbons

the way other men love greasing their snowblowers.

What the hell are you doing?

- Just practicing the royal wave.

- Boy, stick a fork in you 'cause you are done.

- Wow, he's practicing his royal wave.

- No, no, I just had a kink.

- Well, we came to escort you to the grand event.

Your townspeople await your royal arrival.

- I love your feet.

- You know, they--they get me around.

- You remember Mr. Resnick from the Circus of Shoes.

- I come bearing complementary footwear.

Would you allow me to slip them on the royal feet?

- What the hay?

- Eight and a half, triple D, same width as Maggie Thatcher.

There we go, our top of the line

Korean made imitation leather-like wingtips.

How do they feel?

- Almost like real shoes.

- Yeah, most people can't tell the difference,

'til they get them wet.

- After you, My Lord.

- A coach and a dozen ponies await.

- Look guys, don't you think you're going a little overboard?

I mean, you know, it's just a simple ribbon snipping.

- He does understand this is an in-mall bait shop?

- Well, I thought he did.

I hope you're not backing out.

The whole town's turned out for your speech.

- I-I didn't prepare a speech.

- Oh! Well, your presence alone will be enough.

Just...just say hello, tell a few jokes,

and you're out.

- Okay.

Are these shoes supposed to stick to the floor like this?

- Guess the paint hasn't dried yet.

- I saw a beautiful coach outside.

I've always dreamed of riding in a coach.

- Yeah, well, keep dreaming, woman.

This coach is SRO, Stratford Royalty Only.

- I suppose we couldn't pretend I was royalty?

- Well, we could-- BOTH: But that would be wrong.

[CROWD CHATTER]

- Fresh paint, watch the shoes!

Watch the shoes!

- Wow, what a noisy throng.

Look, can you quiet down, please?

[CROWD CHATTER]

- Hey! Hey, don't make me come out there, people.

- I give you Richard Loudon, Lord of Stumpworth-on-Thames.

- Thank you, and hello--hello, everybody.

- Hello, Lord.

[CROWD LAUGHS]

- I'd like to welcome you all to the--the grand opening

of this lovely live bait shop.

[APPLAUSE]

I-I didn't--didn't really prepare a speech or anything.

You know, I just thought I was going to cut a ribbon.

I don't know, would anyone like--like to hear a-a joke?

- Yes!

- Okay.

A couple of guys walk--walk in to, uh, no, I'm sorry.

It's one--one guy walks into a--into a tobacco shop

and he asks if--if they have Prince Albert tobacco.

No, no, he, uh, asks if they have Prince Albert in the can.

Yeah, that's--that's it,

and the shop owner says that, uh, that they do,

and--and then the other guy, you know,

the guy--the guy that walked into the shop, he says,

"Well, y-you better let him out,

he probably can't breathe in there."

[LAUGHTER]

I-I knew that one would go over.

Well, I guess it's time to cut the ribbon.

- Tell another joke!

- All right.

It seems that dear Fergie went to this fat farm in Brighton

and she couldn't--she couldn't pay her bill.

I can't remember the stuff in between,

but the--the--the punchline is something like,

she--she may be short of pounds,

but she certainly isn't sh-short of pounds.

- Is that a true story about Sarah Ferguson?

- No, it's a--it's a joke.

- Oh. - So what are you doing, Loudon?

Making fun of fat people?

- I thought--I thought you'd like royal--royal jokes.

- You're the royal joke.

- Hey, listen, why don't I just--I'll just cut the ribbon.

- He slams the royal family

and still thinks he's going to cut the ribbon?

Who does he think he is?

- What are we going to do?

If nobody cuts the ribbon, how do we get in the store?

- Let's go in through the roof.

- ALL: Yeah.

- No need for that.

[CROWD CHEERS]

I'll cut the ribbon. - [CROWD CHEERS]

- Chester, please fire this lord.

- You can't fire a monarch.

He either has to abdicate his throne

or have his head cut off.

- Well, since we don't know what abdicate means...

- I-I don't get it.

I mean, one minute you're bowing to me

and then I-I tell a few jokes

and--and you turn on me like a pack of rabid dogs.

What's wrong with you people?

- Well, we're a fickle little town.

[CROWD AGREES]

- Come on, Chester. Cut the ribbon.

- Well, here goes.

[CROWD CHEERING]

Now let's all get in there and buy some bait.

- Honey, wh-where are you going?

I mean, aren't you--aren't you going to stay here with me?

- I'd rather eat bait, Lord.

- See, I told you they'd have refreshments.

- You scuff 'em, you bought 'em.

- Well, it's like the old saying.

"What goes around comes around."

- Here George, want to be a lord?

- Do I?

Hey, everybody. Look at me, I'm a lord.

I'm a lord.

[APPLAUSE]

[♪♪♪]

- Meow!