Original subtitles

Olga Vandermeer was crossed in love and contemplating suicide when she saw an

advertisement in the Telegraph for a headmistress to St Trinian's.

For days she pondered whether to take the plunge from the roof of her

apartment building or apply for the job.

She chose fate worse than death.

Okay, get flashed.

Here, I've got customers, you know.

The Action Committee, Flash.

They want you urgent.

Why? What's cooking?

Well, it ain't chop suey.

Well, it's highly inconvenient.

I've got a wedding party at ten o'clock.

Butterfly prawns, peaking duck, a lot.

What's this all about?

Fraternal greetings, brother.

Lad, you're a big union man, aren't you?

Boss of the Boot Boys Union, are you not?

Keep in mind, the National Association of School Spotware Cleansing Operatives

and Allied Technicians. We need to invite... Careful, Flash.

What's your deal, Barry?

Read them the resolution.

Motion carried unanimously at a meeting of the St Trinian's Action Committee.

This school hereby resolves to form a trade union... which shall be called

Union of British Schoolgirls. Yeah, we're going to demand free ice cream and

coke. And free motorbikes.

I'll settle for a mint coke.

Now, old it, girls, old it.

Let me ask you a pregnant question.

What are you going to do when the Ministry gives you the brush-off?

We'll strike.

Stop work.

We don't do any anyway, so what difference will it make?

Listen, listen, you kids have got to use your loaves.

It's no use just forming a union on your own.

No clouds.

You'd have to get at all the girls' schools in the country to join you.

There's only one way of doing that.

What's that?

Infiltration. You mean get inside other schools?

Then form cells.

My dad spent three years in one of those. He got his open university degree

there. It's not that kind of cell nit.

You'd have to get into every blooming girls' school in the country. Then what?

You could declare a closed shop.

It's the classic formula what Mott looks dreamed up.

Light, anyone?

Here.

Thanks, Ursula.

Right, now, what was I saying? You were talking about a guy called Marks. Oh,

yeah. Good old Carl.

Well, you'd have to form a closed shop, like what Marks said.

But I thought he opened a shop with a chap called Spencer.

Not that Marks, love.

That geezer went in for a different line of business.

What's a closed shop, then?

A closed shop is a shop where nobody can't get in and nobody can't get out.

But what all free workers has to belong to in the interest of democracy.

Now, if you were running one of them, you'd have real clout.

What's the use?

Getting into all them schools, it just ain't practical.

Blimey. A wedding dinner. I've got to go or the marriage will be consummated

before they've had their peaking duck.

You do shorthand and typing, don't you? I'm learning. Why?

I got the Gazette today.

Required. Junior secretary to Baron and Pages.

They're the agents that advise parents where to send their kids to school,

right? Mm-hmm. Anyway, I rang them. The job's still going.

I'm sure I put in the recommended quantity.

Listen, Aggie, if we could get you into Baron and Pages, we could find out what

schools have got vacancies.

I was mixing that for the firework display on Parents' Day.

Come on, Archie, first things first.

Look, before that initial trapeze out of school, I don't remember what Harry

said.

We've got to get into these places.

The only way we'll do it is to get the proper gin on these places.

Oh, I brought my sandwiches with me, Miss Summers. I want to study my short

term.

Splendid. Twenty words a minute is hardly sufficient.

Even for Mr. Barron after a business lunch.

I'll be back at two.

You know something?

I thought he was joking.

Us? Yeah.

Well, you done great.

What about all them top schools?

Porchester, Highdown, that lot.

I don't see none of them here.

Hey, Flash, Porchester's hopped on education.

That's not our scene. Maybridge have gone on classical music. Beethoven and

that jazz.

And Highdown turned us down flat.

Hinted are letters of think.

Yeah, you can't win them all, Flash.

You can't declare a close shot till you have, love.

It's all very well getting into Miss Calico Draw's college for young ladies

in Swanage and that class of dump.

You've got to land the big ones first.

If you girls want to become a properly constituted trade union, officially

recognised by the TUC, then you've got to get into them posh schools by all.

Good gracious me.

That's quite enough, Anthea. Next entrant, please.

Astonishing! She's a must, Millicent.

You know, her style reminds me of Yehudi Menuhin.

If I close my eyes, I can almost see.

Hello?

Aggie? It's me, Lizzie.

Any luck with Highdown?

Yeah, there's a new girl, Angela Hall, who's been accepted.

She's coming from the Middle East next Wednesday, being met by her aunt and

catching the 4.15 from Victoria.

She's English, dark, 15, and wears her hair on top in a bun.

Yes, here we are.

That's it.

That's OK.

Excuse me, are you travelling all the way to Eastbourne?

Mm-hm.

Thank you.

Now, remember, darling, You're being met at Eastbourne by one of the

schoolmistresses named Miss Taylor.

Goodbye, my darling.

You'll be all right.

Work hard.

And don't forget, write to your mother and father.

Listen! Tilly!

Frida! Right, you, get your clothes off!

What I am making the complaint about... The complaint about

is how this state of affair has not been taken to my notice before.

Oh, we thought they'd come back.

There's always been a degree of absenteeism, as you know, Miss

Vandermeer. But not 42 girls at the same time.

You do not think they have come back to their parents?

The town would be hot with howls if they had.

They're even more unpopular at home than they are here.

Is that possible?

Why don't we call a hall meeting and ask?

Ask what?

Hand up the girls who are not here.

The only reason I engaged you as sports mistress, Miss Adams, is because you

were the only one to apply.

And nobody tell me what has happened to these girls.

I tried an acceptable amount of torture, but they told me if they squealed,

they'd be sent to Coventry.

Coventry is a town in the Midlands, is it not so, Miss Welsh?

Are you or are you not a geography mistress?

Yes.

Yes, I believe it is somewhere around there.

Sent to Coventry simply means if they open their mouths, the other girls won't

speak to them.

How conspiracy, yeah?

Then we must get to the foots of it. We must top their phone calls.

We must bugger the dormitories.

Tap their phone calls.

Bug the dormitories.

I remember now. It's near Birmingham.

I do not want to hear any more about that Midland town, Miss Walsh.

Forty-two of our girls are missing.

It will be parents' day in a few weeks.

If they do not find their children here, what do you think they will say?

You get a mixed reaction.

They will shout their heads off. You know that.

We must find out at once where the little beasts are and bring them back.

The future of our school depends on it.

Yours, you mean?

Here, draw them curtains. The whole chocolate box has got the minties on

you.

Oh, stuffer. What do you think about our demands, Harry?

OK. But I tell you, the Ministry won't take no notice till you show your

solidarity.

How do we show our solidarity?

Yeah, well, by following recognised union procedure.

Oh, what's that?

Well, you take one of them posh schools and you ferret out some legitimate cause

for strike action. Such as?

Well, a bit of unprovoked corporal punishment.

Like a kick up the Jackson from the headmistress?

Or being expelled without due regard for the sanctity of human rights?

You mean we've got to cook up something?

That's not the language of transport, Al, sister.

You've got to have an unassailable reason that'll have every schoolgirl in

Britain screaming for blood.

Then you can demand what you like.

Hello. Got to go now.

Me own union meeting.

Rich Dean are asking our operative there to spray polish the girls' shoes without

extra pay.

I'm going to have to call our lads out.

Let's phone Tilly at Highdown.

If we've got to start something, that's the place, and she's the girl.

You lot wait here.

They've been tapping the calls all day.

They've cut us off.

Now what?

I think you're running a terrible risk allowing this swimming session.

If anyone can find out what are the dark doings here, it is Miss Adams.

She has the whole confidence of the good looks. Well, she hasn't mine.

Her minus five IQ.

IQ? What is IQ?

Adverse sign of trouble, Miss Adams will contact us on the walkie-talkie.

We can be at Sharon Bay in five minutes.

Hey, Poppy.

You told me you were a champion swimmer.

I bet you can't race Mavis to that boat out there.

What do you bet?

A bottle of bubble bath stuff?

You're wrong.

You don't know what you're letting yourself in for, Mavis dear.

Let's start it then.

Whatever it is, over.

This is the action committee speaking.

We've a message for the old sow.

If any of your mob go snooping into our business, they'll catch more than a cold

next time.

You've been warned.

Roger, out.

What on earth does that mean?

Never mind what it means.

Into the car.

The ball's in your court now, Tilly. Damn it hot, kid.

Gracious, there's a naked woman beckoning us. Oh, and we're not stopping

for any Swedish shit-hiker.

What happens if Miss Adams... Hi, darling.

Britain's most exclusive girls' school.

Miss Dormancott will be here in one moment. Thank you.

Good morning, Mrs. Mowbray.

I'm Miss Dormacott.

My second Miss Taylor.

Now, I'm sorry I had to ask you here, but I understand from the embassy that

anything to do with Princess Roxanne should be referred to you.

That's quite right. You will not, of course, expect me to call her Angela.

Of course not. Normally I have an aversion to having girls here under a

pseudonym. No greater than His Highness's, I'm sure.

And if it weren't for his fears of kidnapping.

I appreciate his concern.

What I fail to understand is Roxanne's behavior.

Roxanne? I simply cannot tolerate it. There is not a wall here that has not

been daubed with a mass of mindless gibberish.

It is disrupting the entire life of the school.

And whenever we try to reason with Roxanne, we are greeted with a whole

host of four-letter words, most of which I'm told are rude.

But I simply don't understand it.

Roxanne's mother comes from the best part of Leicestershire.

She's never been known to swear.

We are speaking of the same girl, are we not, Mrs. Mowbray? It doesn't sound all

right with me.

Have Angela Hall brought here at once.

Excuse me, Mrs. Mowbray.

I hope there hasn't been some ghastly error like the time you went to

Victoria. to meet little Lee Hung from Hong Kong and came back with little Lee

Sung from that East End laundry.

I'm sure that nothing like that could conceivably have happened.

You put Roxanne on the train at Victoria, did you not, Mrs Mowbray? Yes,

I did.

In a first-class compartment with an elderly lady reading the country life.

And she was travelling all the way. And I collected her at Eastbourne. Then

there can't possibly have been any mix-up.

at once angelo what do you want but this is not my niece lee hung

and lee sung it's a replay who are you girl what are you doing at highdown hang

loose grandma all right so i'm not angelo how's your father What's you

going to do about it? What are we going to do about it? We're going to have you

removed from the school immediately.

Well, you're going to have a strike on your hands if you do, matey. It's going

to be all ours, sisters.

You insolent child.

Get up.

Harcourt is the name.

Matilda Harcourt of St Trinian.

Heaven preserve us.

I'm the democratically appointed shop steward of the British Schoolgirls Union

Highdown Branch.

And if I go, it'll be victimisation.

Don't talk that juvenile pitiful to me. Go to your room and pack your bags, you

wanton creature.

You will be escorted to the station in half an hour.

Okay.

That's how you want it, love.

Here. You got a fag on you?

Got a fag on you?

Puppy? Yeah.

I'm afraid I don't smoke.

It's no good asking you to get.

Blimey, what a dump.

No fags, no drink, and no men.

And you call that education?

One reads about it.

One knows it goes on.

But until now, it has never been my lot to come face to face with it.

I must have led a very sheltered life.

What has happened to Roxanne?

Where is she?

You say that there was a woman reading Country Life who was traveling with her

all the way to Eastbourne? Yes, that's right. There was nobody in the

compartment when I collected this Centurion's freak.

What are you suggesting?

Well, supposing... What a dreadful thought.

Supposing the woman spirited the princess away to kick her legs in some

cabaret in, well, Benghazi.

Stay there.

Ladies in first-class compartments who read country life do not spirit girls

away to kick their legs in Benghazi.

No. This miserable wretch was substituted for Roxanne by a bunch of St

Trinian's no-goods, and that's where she's being kept.

But that's kidnapping.

Oh, nothing of the sort.

A schoolgirl prank.

A wicked one, but a prank.

I don't think His Highness will regard it in that light. There is no reason why

he should hear.

Miss Taylor, get me the headmistress of St Trinian's.

Rest assured, Madam Roxanne, we'll be back in a few hours. I sincerely hope

so. I don't have to remind you that His Highness rules one of the richest oil

-producing countries in the world.

Mrs. Mowbray, we are not interested in politics at Highdown.

I wonder if St. Trinian's is on the telephone.

If you had carried out my orders, none of this would have happened.

Turn over.

I want it on the blower, Olga, headmistress of Heidern.

Heidern?

What can she want with me?

Maybe she's going to appoint you her successor.

Heidern. Hello.

You wish to speak to the headmistress of St. Trinium's?

I am told that she will give on to me.

Good morning.

I have to speak to you about a very delicate subject.

One of my pupils is missing.

Oh, there is not much delicate about that.

Between ourselves, 42 of mine are missing.

One of them is here.

That means 41, then.

I am not talking about wholesale absenteeism, Miss Vandermeer. I am

inquiring about a pupil of mine, Angela Hall, who has been abducted. You mean

taken by force?

To your establishment.

Unless I'm very much mistaken.

Really?

Will you hold the line a minute, please?

Have we an Angela Hall here, Miss Martingale?

I don't recall the name.

Could you describe her, please?

Fifteen? Sleep?

Brown eyes?

Five-four?

Leg hair in the burn?

I'll see if I can find her and call you back.

We have enough trouble finding our own girls without searching for other

people's.

Have we anyone here answering that description?

I really couldn't say.

I'm afraid the girls are only numbers to me. If anyone throws a brick or a beer

bottle at me, I'm liable to remember her. Otherwise, they're all just so many

blank faces.

I'm happy that you take such a personal interest, Miss Martingale.

See if you can find the child.

It's Miss McTavish and Miss Coates' recipe. I'll get them to help you.

The present Austro-Yugoslav frontier was agreed by plebiscite in 1920.

You can see over there, if you care to look.

The Albanian frontier, however, remained in suspense for a considerable number

of... Is there a girl here named Angela Hall?

Seems she's straight to the wrong school.

She's 15, with brown eyes and black hair, worn in a bun.

No? Well, if any of you come across her, report to Miss Vanderbeer at once.

Carry on, Miss Walsh.

The Aldinian Borders are remaining suspense for a considerable number of

years.

I can certainly say that Angela Hall is here, but it may take some time to find

her. Our school is a large building.

We have some 120 rooms rambling over.

Miss Vandermeer, if you could avoid the rambling and find the girl, it would be

more helpful.

That girl left it there.

Girl!

Over-educated pig.

I want the entire town here at once.

Miss Evans?

Poppy?

What is going on here?

I don't know.

I've got a cold.

I think they do this in Holland.

It baffles me what they do across the channel.

By now it should be boiling point.

Dory, okay.

Now come along, Poppy. We've got to search the grounds for some dreary girl.

Come on!

Miss Adams, search the west wing. Miss Coke, the east wing.

Please. And Miss McTavish, the dormitories.

But in

heaven's name, it's all this.

Run, Stroud.

Don't, you childish.

Remove this tomfoolery at once.

Beat it, scum.

You wouldn't dare.

My guess is they would.

You cannot assert the West Wing yet.

We couldn't get to it. There's that furniture on the stairs.

They've blocked the East Wing.

The little doves say they're on strike.

Oh, dear.

What will they think up next?

It's true.

Matilda Harcourt rushed in and shouted, I've been expelled.

And Elizabeth Stratton yelled, it's all out, sisters.

And the whole class tore off, leaving me, well, in the middle of Yugoslavia.

Near Birmingham.

This time they've really overstepped the mark.

It's naked terrorism.

Well, you should know.

What are you going to do about it, Olga?

For the moment, I think we'd better present a small profile.

Nobody must know.

I suppose we better inform High Down about the child.

Somebody has been taking the hard centers.

I have spoken of this before.

My mother sends these chocolates from Holland.

Please, only to take the soft centers.

There is a chart here.

Miss Dolmencott?

Hello? No, I'm afraid we cannot recover your little George tonight.

We have a minor local problem.

Yes, if you must know, the girls are on strike.

On strike?

Miss Dolly, I'm not telling you... Miss Taylor, I am on the phone.

Miss Vandermeer, if you cannot deal with rebellion at your school, I must call in

somebody who can.

I demand my pupil back.

Strike at a girls' school.

There's a sit-in here.

It's inconceivable.

I beg your pardon?

They say they've withdrawn their labour.

What tish-tosh is that?

Have a head prefect brought here.

There isn't a head prefect. Only a cell.

A cell?

I think it's a kind of group.

The bishop of East Hampton's daughter is one of them. I don't want to know who

they are. Have them brought up at once.

Send up the cell.

He is still thinking of calling the police.

I should call the embassy first.

Ah, no, no, no.

Not at all.

That would entail the most undesirable publicity.

Miss Taylor, get me the ministry.

The Minister for Female Education.

I'm sorry about this little complication, Mrs Mowbray. It should be

quickly cleared up. Would you care to stay to lunch?

Well... Yes, I think I should, under the circumstances.

I'm afraid it's the usual school fare.

What is it today?

Toad in the hole, prunes and tapioca pudding.

Hello? Oh, is that the Ministry?

Female Education Department, please.

Cells, sit-ins, Mrs. Wilbray. Oh, it's not us.

It's not possible at high down.

What on earth is that?

I suppose it could be the tapioca pudding.

Hello?

Female education?

This is Highdown Ladies' College.

Miss Dormancourt would like to speak to the minister on a matter of the utmost

importance.

Oh.

Oh, dear.

The minister is in Monte Carlo attending an international educational conference

for the underprivileged. Oh.

I will speak to the departmental chief, then.

Hello?

Sir, Mr. Culpepper-Brown, you're wanted on the telephone. Oh, really? Miss

Calfax can't, Mr. Burris. Take it, I'm due at lunch.

It's Miss Dormancourt from Highdown College, sir.

She says it's a matter of great urgency.

Probably some cabinet minister's brat has got chicken pox or something.

Yes, good morning.

Yes, Culpepper-Brown, Permanent Secretary of Female Education speaking,

yes.

Yes? Yes, Miss Dormancourt, you have a problem, and I have a luncheon

appointment.

What did you say?

Miss Carfax, will you fetch Mr. Butters and Miss Brenner from the staff canteen

immediately?

Madam, unfortunately, the minister is in Monte Carlo.

Yes. Yes, but of course I shall endeavor to contact him at the table, sir. At the

conference table, sir. Yes.

Yes, and, madam, you may rest assured that we shall take every positive and

immediate action.

Yes, of course, sir.

What school did you say that this little princess is held captive?

St. Trinian's.

Staff guard.

I promise you that this little actress, a little princess, will be back with you

yesterday.

What am I saying?

You wanted us? Something appalling has happened.

Yes, sir, we had that impression.

All right, well, sit down and put that thing down.

A princess from one of the richest oil countries in the world has been

kidnapped from Highdown College.

I just think of the political implications of that.

Fortunately, we know the name of the school that she's been taken to.

And I can't quite see the problem, sir. The school is on strike.

On strike?

But that sort of thing could only happen at... Well, at a place... A place

like... Oh, no.

Not there.

It isn't true.

But what's it got to do with us, sir?

St Trinian's is no longer recognised by her.

In a case like this, it matters that the Ministry has a grave responsibility.

So, a swift recovery of the child before her father finds out will be the object

of your mission.

My mission?

And I'm already a quarter of an hour late for an urgent luncheon with the

chairman of the Twelve Letter Alphabet Society.

They want to go metric.

So you'll catch the next train to St Trinian's and bring that child back at

once.

What do you think you're doing?

My psychiatrist advised it in moments of extreme stress.

Please don't ask me to go, sir. Anyone but me. Now, Mr. Butters, get down off

that chair.

I take it you wouldn't want to place your future MBE in jeopardy, would you?

MBE? If I go, I shall deserve the George Cross.

Miss Brenner, you will accompany Mr. Butters. I had hoped to visit my mother

in Harpenden this afternoon. She hasn't been at all well.

Yes, and as a matter of fact, I'm due on the couch at... Now, Mr. Butters, this

is top priority.

Butters, I would remind you that in a moment of confidence, you told me that

you held the highest tenderfoot badge known to the Boy Scouts. Now, this is

your opportunity to put that knowledge into play.

But... No more.

Now, Miss Brenner, this child may need a woman's smile to comfort her and a

woman's breast to cry upon.

You are adequately equipped for that task, so good luck to you both.

May your mission bear fruit.

Fruit. The skeleton in our cupboard has come home to roost.

College.

Walton.

How many is that now?

392. Quote 400.

What? A quid a telegram?

Where the heck are we going to get 400 pounds from?

Well, apart from having a bash at the African drums, I can't think of

anything. Maggie.

Carry on with the telegrams. They'll go out.

How much bread did you say Angela had in her bag?

900 pounds.

I'll borrow 400.

It's a union decision, Mag. Just make her out an I.L.U.

Well, well.

We've got strike breakers.

Miss Brenner?

All clear?

I've stopped thinking, Mr. Bottas.

Hello, dear.

Where are you?

Mr. Bottas, it is no part of our duty to place ourselves in peril.

We're friends, little girl.

Friends, darling.

Where are you?

Hello. We're here to help you.

We're friends, darling.

Oh, it's you, Miss Brannan.

But how can we stop them?

We could cut off their electricity, I suppose.

The gas we should cut off.

Another devil.

Take a miserable couple of hours.

Civil servants, I'd say. From his bowler hat and the cut of her drawers.

Looking for the hideout girl, I suppose.

I don't wish we could find that Clarison child. We were in the news of the world

last week. It'll be the Sunday people's next.

Couldn't we find someone to negotiate, Olga? Who?

Well, the only person I know who is persona grata with us and the girls is

dear Harry.

That stink of stale cooking fat, beer oil and cheap cigars. Oh.

Well, if we must, we must, I suppose.

Get him, Miss Martin. I can provide you with regulation officers' trousers, sir,

and skirt, madam.

I am not permitted to supply the tunics, but I'm sure we shall find suitable

apparel in our sports pavilion.

Do you think they will mistake us for football fans?

Miss Brenner, very few people die of shame.

I shall join them when we reach Victoria.

Come in.

Oh, hello, Miss V. You have been a long time.

Well, it's me toilet.

Something wrong with your plumbing?

I don't want a toilet.

Me bath.

Me coiffure.

Lying on me back, me getting into me jeans.

It takes time, you know.

Right, you want me to chat, missus? Yes, that was the idea. Sit down, will you?

If you can.

We do not see a great deal of each other.

You know how it is.

You do your thing.

I do mind. But those things should have the same objective, the welfare of our

girls. Oh, yeah.

Yeah, that.

Do you mind if I smoke?

If you must.

You have heard the girls are on strike?

Love you. I'm helping them with it.

Assisting them freely as a fellow worker to assert their democratic rights.

That covers almost everything these days, does it not?

You know about this high-down girl?

What high-down girl?

Your fellow workers have kidnapped her.

Oh, I wouldn't approve of that.

Definitely not.

Then perhaps you can persuade them to return her.

I've been under wage restraint for 12 months, you know. There is no money to

pay higher salaries.

I'll make you an offer.

If I negotiate the return of this kid, you and me, the first five autumn school

fees that come in. Not possible. I always reserve the first five for my

winter holiday in Mallorca.

Success, matter of fact.

Okay. Then let's you and me take the first dozen autumn fees and split them

50-50. How's about it? You are twisting my arm.

If the girl is here by tomorrow...

I will split the first ten, not counting music lessons, karate, parachute

jumping, or any other of the usual extras.

Fair enough.

Ah, chockeys.

Do you mind if I do?

No, thank you, if you please.

It's hot here.

Oh, pineapple fondue with quiche.

Post early today.

Look, carpentry.

Oh, halberd.

Fantastic.

Wickham Abbey.

Hi, Harry.

Strike's going great. We've had 156 telegrams and letters all pledging

support. What have you been up to, kid, having this girl up and high down?

You said it was her intellectual trait. I never said you could call her nobody.

You've got to hand her back.

Not yet.

Why not?

Because we borrowed 400 quid from a ram bag to send out the strike notices.

School kid with all that dough.

What's her dad do for Pete's sake?

I think he owns a petrol station.

She said something about us not getting any more oil from his place if he heard.

Sounds like one of those motorway garages.

Kidnapping? Nicking 400 smackers?

You could go to jail, you biggins, if you don't return it.

Yeah, where are we supposed to get 400 quid from?

Yeah. We could get the Ministry to fork out. They want the girl back bad. They

sent two creeps down here to get her.

Yeah.

Yeah, there's something in that.

Only taxpayers' money.

You leave this to me, girls.

This is the kind of industrial negotiation I specialise in.

But I assure you, Mrs Mowbray, the occasional will not arise for His

Highness to cancel the three frigates.

Roxanne will be back at Highdown very, very shortly.

We have a positive plan for her recovery.

Yes.

And I'll call you back immediately.

Right.

Miss Catherine Higgs, sir.

Good morning, Miss Higgs.

Take a seat, please.

You're a detective, I understand.

Inquiry, Agent Love.

I started working with Mudford and Marsh, ooh, donkeys years ago, as a

professional co-respondent.

Correspondent? No, co-respondent, yeah.

Going off with gentlemen that wanted divorces and that.

Of course, all that went up the spout when they changed the law, like, so then

they transferred me to the Special Investigation Department.

Mind you, I see the world now, you know. I mean, in the old days, it used to be

Brighton, Brighton, Brighton.

Nowadays it's, you know, south of France, Mexico, Bahamas, you name it.

Well, you won't be going to Farfield this time.

Oh, well, no, make a change, huh?

I've never done a school before.

The problem will be not to be done by the school.

Oh, they'll have to get up very early in the morning to catch me.

Sugar lump.

I rang the headmistress and said I understood she had a vacancy for a

chemistry mistress.

How did you find that out?

The last incumbent was blown up. She has no wish to return.

Went a bit to pieces, did she?

Don't worry, love.

I'll be in and out of that dump so quick no one will have a chance to put

anything under me.

And I obviously don't need to warn you that this is a hazardous assignment.

Oh, bless you, Bubbles.

I'm used to hazards.

Should have seen some of the types I had to go to Brownington with.

Mr. Culper for Brown, sir.

There's a man on the phone named Harry.

It's about that girl.

He says he's the footwear and cleansing operative at St. Trinian's.

Oh, I don't think I have to talk to him.

Oh, I think you should.

Bubble?

Oh, I put him through, yeah.

Well, it only remains for me to wish you good luck, Missy.

Goodbye.

Ta-da, love.

Don't worry, I'll be back here with a kid before you can say H2SO4.

I mean, until today, I thought that was a character in a James Bond movie.

He's on your line, sir.

Here. Here.

Call Paper Black.

I understand that you're employed as an Trinian and that you have a message for

me. Yeah, well, not so much a message as a proposition, see.

You want this eye-down girl back, don't you?

Well, I can deliver her.

Well, indeed?

For a consideration.

What do you mean by that?

2,000 quid.

2,000 pounds.

2,000 pounds?

In reddies.

I've had another opacy.

It didn't have to be two grand to make it worth my while.

Are you aware that what you're saying is tantamount to a threat of extortion?

Hold it, brother.

It's my intention to give this money to the St Trillian Strike Fund.

Some of it. Are you suggesting that the Ministry of Education should subsidise a

school strike?

Subsidise? Don't they?

Right, I tell you what.

You consult your bosses, and I'll ring you back in 24 hours' time. All right.

Wait. Are you likely to be much longer? Because I've got an ulster back.

Well, I hope it runs a smashing race for you.

Till the final furlong, and comes in last.

I'm sure I was not able to show you more of our school, Mrs. Hicks, but only a

third of it is under my control.

You'll find the staff here an oddly assorted lot, rather like these

chocolates. Somebody's been eating them again.

But the one thing we have in common is that we never worry about the children,

and somehow that binds us together.

Not so much a happy family as a flat happy one, eh?

Is photography included in the curriculum?

Aye.

It used to, until somebody went off with the... I was rather expecting a visit

from Harry.

Oh, yeah, the... the Aegean rocker with the talking T-shirt.

Our good person.

And sympathy with the girls.

As far as that is humanly possible.

Right, girls.

Now, one for the sun.

Quite a modern school, isn't it?

We do our best.

English newspapers, gentlemen.

Thank you, my dear.

Telegraph and Guardian, eh, Humphrey?

Thank you.

Let's have the sun, too, my dear.

I always believe in covering a broad cross-section of the media, Humphrey.

You sure you don't mean a cross-section of the broads, Charles?

It says here that the girls of St Trinian's are on strike.

Mind you, I'm told there's always trouble there.

Well, it appears they're not alone.

There's a sit-in at Highdown.

Not the Highdown, surely?

It seems so.

And at Millbourne, the girls there took their teachers' clothes away and sent

them to Oxford.

Sure. A deserving cause, of course.

Humphrey, you may make jokes of that sort in the Ministry of the Environment,

but in my ministry, we're used to dealing with vital matters like these

very seriously.

Good morning, Sir Charles. Take Sir Charles's hat, please.

We're glad to see you back, Minister.

I'm looking awfully fit, if I may say so, Sir Charles. Your conference must

have done you good.

What's all this about a strike at St Trinian's, Millbourne and Highdown?

Something must have sparked it all. A kidnapping, Minister.

St Trinian's did it and substituted one of their own girls.

And Highdown threw the wretched child out.

And St Trinian's called a strike.

Have the police been informed?

We wanted to avoid publicity, sir. Avoid it? Have you seen this?

Half-naked girls on the back of a sports car.

What goes on here?

Allow me to explain, Minister. The kidnapped girl is the daughter of Prince

Neruz of Mabuta, the oil country.

Oh, my God. Does the Mabuta embassy know about this? Well, we're hoping to settle

it, sir, before they find out.

Let me apply my mind to the problem.

It's for you, Mr. Butters.

Your flatmate, Dennis.

Oh, dear.

Mr. Butters is busy. May I take a message?

It's about your dinner party tonight. He said, should he peel the grapes?

Really? I simply don't know. Say he can do what he likes.

He says you can do what you like with your grapes.

Where was I?

Applying your mind.

Ah, yes.

Well, surely the sensible thing would be to get Highdown to take back this St

Trinian's girl, thus eliminating the cause of the problem.

If I may say so, Sir Charles, that's an absolutely splendid solution to the

problem. So simple. I don't know why we didn't think of it.

I'd have the right kind of mind.

Get me the headmistress of Highdown.

You had an accident?

No, sir.

Merely roughed up a little in the line of duty.

You sent him to rescue the princess?

I did, sir. Then I need hardly ask if the girl is still there.

No, sir. No.

And then you sat on your backsides.

I engaged a detective, sir. A detective?

All that was called for was a little common sense.

Here's something in this water.

Oh, I'm terribly sorry, sir. That's my fizzy nerve pills.

The headmistress of Hyde.

What's the woman's name?

Dormancott. Good afternoon, Miss Dormancott, Minister speaking.

Now, I don't think we've had the pleasure.

I wanted to have a word with you about this so-called strike.

It's a joke, of course.

Well, as you say, a bad joke, but one, nevertheless, that must be firmly dealt

with. Now, what I'm going to suggest, as a temporary measure, is that you should

take back... for this St Trinian's girl.

No!

No!

No! No!

And shortly after, we will exchange her for a certain little lady you and I wot

of. Eh?

On no account would I so much as contemplate having that St Trinian's

freak back.

Morale here would sink like a stone, if indeed it has any further to fall.

Miss Dormancourt, as you know, it is no part of my government's policy to

oblige... Any school to go comprehensive.

But there are cases where it could be of advantage to the community.

Sir Charles, Highdown is one of the last citadels of private education.

Madam, do you want to go comprehensive or not?

I'll take her back.

I knew you'd see reason, Mr. Alcott. Good to know.

All a matter of handling.

One can recognize the statesmanlike approach at a glance, sir.

Now, you will let it be known to the kidnappers that High Down have agreed to

take back that St. Trinian's girl.

This will remove the cause of the strike, and they will call it off.

Release the princess from the dungeons, and everybody will live happily ever

after.

Off you go, butters.

Just follow my blueprint.

Just one other matter, minister. This letter to the Left Action Democratic

Students' Union, I think it would be better if you signed it yourself, sir,

since you know the secretary.

Evan Williams.

Yes, he's a damned nuisance. What have you said?

Why, you couldn't possibly agree to negotiate with such a small

organization. That's quite right. The young idiot thinks he's running the

Transport and General Workers.

But to get back to St Trinium's, the girls can't all be bad.

Oh, no, they're not at all bad, sir.

I mean, they're not all of them bad, sir.

Just 99% off them, Minister.

Is anyone at home?

What do you want?

I've a message here from the Ministry.

It's for your senior shop steward.

I think they're suing for peace.

Peace? Does that mean we've won?

Looks like it.

If you let Matilda go back to Eydown, you're scuppered.

I mean, it was because she was victimised that you went on strike.

She's your ace in the hole, right?

Then hang on to her and bang in your demise to the Ministry pronto.

You've got clout now.

Real clout.

So use it.

Quite the little traveller.

Eh?

Eh, who are you?

Oh, look.

I'm Katie Higgs, new chemistry mistress.

Oh, right.

I hope you've taken a course in bomb disposal.

I thought I'd come to you for that.

They tell me you know what tech's around here.

What do you want?

Just a natter.

Not a lot going on, really. There was a strike on and that.

Half the girls have opted to stir it up elsewhere.

You mean they was engaged on legitimate union business?

Like kidnapping.

Are you Scotland Yard?

Never heard of the place.

All the girls did was to substitute one student operative for another.

Now the ministry wants to change them back.

Is that a fact?

This the union will not sanction.

Not even for 2,000 quid?

Who you been talking to?

Here.

You ain't no chemistry mistress.

Maybe I ain't, love.

But you and I could make really good chemistry together.

Know what I mean?

Now, you told the Ministry you could deliver the kid for a couple of grand,

right?

Well, I made it off the record observation.

They can't dish out public money like that.

The girl's old man came up with the lolly.

He has?

On delivery of the kid.

Girls, trust me.

I'm not all things to all people, you know. No, you want to be all things to

just some of the people, including yourself.

Otherwise, you're going to be left out in the cold.

Aren't you, Chutney?

What? We'll run out of clispy spring rolls.

But that wouldn't be for me, you know. It'd go to the strike fund.

Oh. Naturally.

Lest you're expensive.

Oh, lest my... Yeah, well, the question is, does it comply with my social

conscience? Well, you wrestle with that, one boy.

You give it the best of three fools and let me know.

I'll be in the shop, having a bash at the sweet and sour bowls.

I can't make out what this democratic student union stands for.

A demand for first-class hotel accommodation, a private bathroom, and

sketchy shows of belief in equality.

There's a schoolgirl from St Trinian's to see you, sir.

This can only mean... They've returned there, St Trinian's, wretch, and called

off the strike. Oh, isn't that jolly good, I say?

Yes, well, no.

I'm not accustomed to interviewing schoolgirls, but, um... All right.

Tell her in.

Now, be careful not to show your feelings in front of this little girl.

Which one of you slags is Culpepper Brown?

There is no way to address one of Her Majesty's civil servants.

I am Mr. Culpepper Brown.

Oh, yeah? Well, shove your snout into this, mister.

Arrivederci.

Of Italian extraction.

Possibly. Rather bulky, isn't it?

Merely to say yes.

British schoolgirl union's resolution passed by the headquarters action

committee are full and just demand.

Oh, no.

That can't be true.

Well, I'm afraid it is, Miss Brennan.

Get down off that chair. But my psychiatrist... Don't give a damn what

your psychiatrist says. Get down.

Anything very worrying, sir? I just don't believe this, you know.

This must be a joke. It can't mean anything else, can it?

Well, can it?

Would you like a glass of water, sir?

Perhaps one of my fizzy nerve pills, sir. No, thank you. Get me the

Minister's secretary of the House of Commons. We must see him immediately.

Good afternoon.

Sit down, won't you?

I take it you've come to report on the exchange of those schoolgirls.

I'm afraid I won't be able to give you much time. Division bell, you know.

We're voting today on the bill to bring back the birch.

It's a three-line whip.

Well, and when did the little princess get back to High Down?

She has not gone back, Minister.

The strike is still on.

They've turned down my offer.

Oh, worse than that, sir.

They've come back with the most impossible demands, sir.

They pretend.

Perhaps you would care to read them, sir.

Good God.

Wads of them.

Holidays with pay?

Well, that's in line with what the Students' Union's after, isn't it?

Move on to the last page, Minister, please.

The Union has decided that the personality cult manifested at the

Ministry is responsible for the ills of feminine education.

We therefore demand that the civil servants named should be disciplined in

the following manner.

Mr Culpepper Brown shall, for three months, become porter.

at St Trinian's.

Miss Brenna shall scrub the floors and clean the lavatories.

Miss Brenna, please.

Read on.

Mr Peregrine Butters shall perform the duties of matron at St Trinian's,

sewing on the girls' buttons, washing their underwear.

Oh, it's all too sick-making for words.

Well, naturally, we shall refuse.

But we must bear in mind the interests of peace. Sir Charles, you have not

finished yet, sir.

Perhaps you would rather not read it in front of Miss Brunner, sir.

Heavens' name, why not?

For the next three months, Sir Charles Hackforth... will... pose

in the nude... for the St Trillian's life-clasp.

It's outrageous.

It's unbelievable.

This is a piece of...

Stark's daring juvenile audacity.

Stark? It certainly would be.

Obviously, this calls for the firmest possible action, Brown.

Well, let us consider what options are open to us.

We could follow the procedure normally applied in dealing with strikes,

Minister. What's that, Brown?

Throwing the towel.

What was that you said, Mr. Bennett? I said to make them howl, sir.

Corporal punishment is forbidden at the moment, Mr. Butler. I meant to

negotiate. With whom?

A bunch of underaged female delinquents?

Who else can we talk to, sir?

This obviously calls for an entirely different approach, Brown.

And I think I may have the solution.

You're always so splendid at resolving things, Minister.

Miss Crane, I want to speak to Mr. Evan Williams, the secretary of the Left

Action Democratic Students Union.

He's an ambitious young swine. He'd welcome 200,000 new members.

He'll open arms, I'd say.

We'd get the L.A.D.S. to take over the school, sir.

Precisely. And in return, we'll give the L.A.D.S.

some of the things they're after.

I must say, Minister, I do admire your grasp.

I now know, Sir Charles, why you've risen so far in politics.

You have given me the ambition to put myself up for Muswell Hill in the next

general election.

I should have thought you'd have done better at Southall.

Ah, Elvin, my young friend. How are you, dear boy?

How many?

200,000.

It's been less than one of the biology primer.

Yeah, I bagged a one in the middle.

They're supposed to be on picket duty.

How about a trip down the sea, eh?

They'll be disciplined for this, sisters.

You didn't bring us here just to see the sea, did you? I thought it would be

something more exciting.

Like a cup of coffee.

Shall I tell them? Yeah.

Our chaps at L.A.D.S. are so chuffed by your show of fraternal solidarity, we've

decided to throw a dance for your senior shop stewards.

Are you kidding?

No, straight up. When?

Tuesday. Where?

There.

Finished. Waiting to be towed away to a museum.

It'll be fancy dress.

Fancy.

Pay on delivery of a child to the above address.

Here. This isn't ministry notepaper.

No, my firms.

Wellington and Wesley.

Enquiry agents?

Oh, I would establish, love.

One of our first clients was George III.

He engaged us to keep an eye on George IV.

And in the girl over at your offices. Why?

Well, because that's where the girl's father will be, with Sir Lolly.

I mean, we couldn't do that sort of thing in a government office now, could

we? I suppose not.

OK.

The girls are at a union meeting now, so the coast is clear.

Can I have a portion of beef curry, please?

Coming right away, madam.

Right, this is where the girl is.

And here's the key.

I'll meet you on the 9.50 train to London.

I've told the girls I'm going up to Smithfield.

Oh, you do use mate around here, do you?

You'd better go out by the back way.

And if anything goes wrong, I shall deny I ever met you.

Some of my best friends do that, love.

Oh, here.

Yes.

And you'll eat with chopsticks.

This is no time to be funny.

Who wants to go to the dance with a load of male shaving pigs? Male chauvinist

pigs. What's the difference? Yeah.

Why should we have anything to do with them? Right. Because we've got a lot of

the same interests.

Hey, and we know what they are. Yeah.

Just cool it, sisters.

Look, why not let those who want to go to the dance go if they promise it's a

one-off thing?

Yeah.

Be back in a minute, Angie.

Are

you Angela

Hall?

Who are you?

I'm your fairy godmother. I come to rescue you from the Ugly Sisters.

My card?

Genuine bedouin, that, if you'll pardon the expression.

Come on, kid.

950 train for Victoria is about to leave on platform 3.

We apologise to passengers for any inconvenience due to staff shortage.

Number seven is from Littlehampton, Worthing and Haywood Heath.

149 Piccadilly, mate.

Mr. Culpepper-Brown does appreciate how anxious I am to see him.

Indeed he does, and smoother.

I don't suppose even the end of the world would upset...

Hello? Mrs. Mowbray, your prayers have been answered.

Your niece has been recovered.

Oh, thank you.

Well, I'm changing the word from consider favourably to seriously

consider. Miss Carfax, would you retype that letter to the LADF, please? Great

news, sir. That Miss Higgs was on her way up with the young lady from

Highdown.

At last, the wind is in our favor.

Mrs.

Mowbray, you couldn't have come at a better time.

Ta-da!

The entry of the gladiators.

Come on, where's the trumpet?

Oh, my darling.

Thank God you're safe and sound.

My darling, don't cry.

It's all right.

It's all over now.

I want to go back to school.

Yes, of course you shall.

And by tonight, you'll be safely back at Highdown.

Not that school, you old bag!

That's 149 Piccadilly.

What, that?

That's the Wellington Museum, built by the Duke of Wellington.

I think someone's been having you on, mate.

Yeah, and I think I know who.

Minister of Education, quick as you like.

I want to see cold paper black.

If you mean Mr. Culper for Brown, he's in conference.

Don't you worry about that, girl.

You just tell him it's about the eye-down nipper.

I'll see what he says.

Yeah, that's what we like to see, the spirit of solidarity aboard the Salt Sea

Queen. The bar's open, have a drink, get back here soon for the slow sound coming

up so you can really get together.

I went to the Ministry to make them cough up and I spot this.

It's against all union rules, poaching members of another union.

Sisters of the fourth and fifth, we're going to lynch these six boys.

This is Blake and Son, Ironmongers. Sorry, we're closed.

Well,

now, this is more like it. The kind of music where you can find out whether she

lives on her own or if he's got a car. You know what I mean?

Over there.

Come on.

What we need is a declaration of solidarity.

Some simple document we can all put our names to that will express our resolve

to join forces.

Right,

come on.

Sign there, girls. It's just a declaration of intent.

Nothing more to it than that.

Hey, look, Evan.

We know what you and the Ministry have cooked up, but there isn't going to be

any takeover, brothers.

Right, sisters?

Right! Don't talk like that, little girl.

Sign with the rest now.

They wouldn't like us to use four.

Blimey. Hey, we've got trouble, Evan.

get a boat mission.

remember the spirit of love and peace, eh? Listen, I've got to play some really

knockouts now.

Let me tell you bros, it was a pyrrhic victim.

The little bastards have had it now.

But what can the ministry really do about it? Turn over the ministry.

It's the TUC that are backing us now. They read about what happened the other

night. A bald-headed attack on a group of innocent trade unionists. They were

hopping mad.

But the girls, they're trade unionists too.

Not recognized, brother.

Not on the register of friendly societies.

Tomorrow we shall offer them peace on our terms.

What are they?

Complete surrender, brothers.

Trade Union Council.

It's official, all right.

We've had letterheading, all those names.

You can see them on the box every night.

Are they trying to tell us we've got to be taken over by that mob?

In so many words.

And what are we going to do about it?

I tell you what we'll do.

We'll disband the union.

With defeat?

Defeat? Are you joking?

They will let us form a friendly society, so we'll form an unfriendly

society with an open-closed shop and no membership fees.

Cool. I'm all for that.

Me too.

It won't be a union.

It'll be a non-union, the first non-union in the country. And if

anybody, one single sister, joins that student union or any other union, wow,

our non-union shop stewards will let her have it.

What is more, we have offered arbitration.

We have even proposed a royal commission.

They wouldn't listen to a word I said.

On me like a pack of wolves.

He heard it on today in Parliament, sir. A fearful row.

The situation's critical, Brown.

Couldn't be worse, sir.

There's hardly a schoolgirl in the entire kingdom at work.

I've been checking, sir. Not an O-level, never mind an A-level. It's been passed

since last summer.

Is there no room anywhere for compromise?

Well, their executive committee have decreed all or nothing. They won't

budge.

Then what are we going to do?

Throw in the towel.

What was that, Mr. Butters?

in the towel, sir.

You're absolutely right.

We must bow to the inevitable, Hugo.

You mean even to everything, sir?

Even personal demands.

What alternative have we?

If you want your K, Hugo, and you two your MBEs, and I want to remain in

politics. Little do you know, sir.

You don't know what they're asking.

Only too well, Miss Brenner.

This will be my ultimate sacrifice to the welfare of British education.

This way, your highness. This way, princess.

Come in.

Welcome to our school, your highness.

Nice to have you back, Roxanne.

I'm charmed to meet you, Miss Vandermeer.

Roxanne has spoken so highly of your school.

Do you know, she pleaded with me to bring her back.

I am most flattered. She has communicated her enthusiasm to her

sisters, I am afraid.

May I ask, would it be possible for them to join her here?

Well, we are very full, but naturally... In the hope that you would say yes, I

brought them with me. Oh, do please ask them to come.

There are, let me see, 16.

No, no, 17.

My sons are at Eton. Of course. The boys equivalent to our school.

Can't you see I am engaged, Brown?

Do the downstairs windows first.

Well, what do you say, madam?

I'm overwhelmed.

But naturally, I shall have to engage extra staff.

You'll be paying in... Swiss francs. How healthy.

Rock solid deal.

Help yourself to a chocolate.

Hard centres or soft centres, whichever you prefer.

Right, here's me smalls. I want me wife hunts back Monday.

...to install an early warning system round here.

Come on, Minister, we can't sit here all day!

Look,

do you want us to sign that productivity agreement or don't you, Charlie?

for your services at a number of other schools.

We've even had an urgent request from a comprehensive at Scunthorpe.

Yeah.

I don't know if you remember your history, Sir Charles, but when the Danes

defeated the Saxons, they demanded money from them called Danegeld.

But once the Saxons had coughed up, the Danes kept on coming back for more.

See, the point is, once you start painting, girl, you've got to go on

doing it.

Come on, aren't you a cunt, Grandpa, and take that pose?

I think I'll book him for his consort next week.

Resourceful Miss Vandermeer sold her memoirs to a Sunday newspaper and

retired to Morton-on-Sea, because she had heard it was a one-eyed result.