All language subtitles for My.Life.So.Far.1999.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC5.1-YTS

Fraser, while resting,

not so much as a peep.

When I was very little,

the thing I hated most
in all the world was resting.

Resting was really just a kind of torture invented
for people like me and my sister, Brenda.

It was one of the things
Gamma told us to do,

and everybody had to do
everything Gamma told them,

even when everybody else
was outside having fun.

Play very nicely, children!

Not like a troupe
of cannibalistic baboons.

And I did
my very famous bad thing,

'cause I was being made to rest,
and it was a beautiful, sunny day.

- Fraser's on the roof!
- No, child, Fraser is resting.

No, no, he's on the roof!

Oh, Fraser!

I suppose he must've
climbed up the drainpipe.

Don't be daft. He's clamored out the window.

- Now, you all stay calm, children.
- Yes, Gamma.

- Edward, do something. Hurry!
- Robert!

Fraser, stop, darling. Oh, my.

- Robert, get the net outside under the child.
- Good thinking, Edward.

Get the dogs out from under
the net. They'll be crushed!

Fraser.

Watch yourself, sir.

Edward, get a rope!

My dad didn't
want us to go into our attic,

so he told us
that was where the devil lurked.

Ever since, I've been terrified of
the word "lurked" -

He's round the front,
Mr. Pettigrew!

- Huh?
- Yes, but which direction?

Our house is probably too big, which is
why my mum kept having babies,

so that we can keep it
filled up.

- Fraser! Yoo-hoo!
- Fraser!

Fraser!

She could've just as easily been
an opera singer.

She auditioned for the great
Blanche Marquese,

but then she met my dad and threw
away her opera career for love.

- Fraser! Please, darling.
- Woof!

Woof! Woof!

- Woof!
- Woof, woof!

Woof!
Woof, woof!

- Woof! Woof, woof!
- Woof, woof!

- Woof, woof!
- Woof!

- Woof!
- Woof!

Woof, woof! Woof!

The only language that me and my dad
both really understood was dog.

It was our ability
to communicate in dog...

that led him to me on the roof
and saved my life.

Woof! Woof!

I'm ten now, and me and my dad
don't talk dog much anymore.

Jump right onto the tailwind,
and up you go! There you are.

My dad is amazing.
He's an inventor and a genius.

Sometimes he combines his mechanical
genius with his great love for Beethoven.

Daddy's coming! Daddy's coming!

Daddy's coming!

Semi-submersible
vulcanized Pantaloon.

A boon to tradesmen
and gentry alike.

Say good-bye to soppy trousers.
Wave farewell to drippy socks.

Daddy, Daddy!

After his water triumph, Dad's next
ambition is to conquer the air.

It's seven years
since my famous bad thing,

and I still don't have
any fear of heights.

- Ready, Fraser?
- Ready, Dad!

He says that's why I'm such a help
to him with his flying experiments.

Seven, six, five,

four, three, two,

one!

- Look, an airplane!
- It's gorgeous!

Welcome to Kiloran!
I'm Edward Pettigrew.

Bonjour.
Sorry-- hello.

I'm Gabriel Chenoux, the emperor of the air.

I have a problem with my--
my filter.

- Do you know about engines?
- Perhaps.

- Oh, this is amazing.
- Let's see if there's something--

I seem to have landed
in some sort of Shangri-La here.

Some hidden world where angels walk
upon the surface of the earth.

A paradise from whence
no human heart may leave unscorched.

Well, Mr. Chenoux--

He just dropped out of the sky
like Daedalus.

- Daedalus? Who's Daedalus?
- Icarus.

- Daedalus was the father.
- I meant Icarus,

the one who flew
too close to the sun.

That's him?

Except Icarus didn't have a sheepskin flying
helmet on or goggles or a big coat.

All he had on was a pair
of golden swimming trunks.

Fraser, don't use
language like that.

"Swimming trunks"

Anyway, Icarus fell
and landed on his head...

and burst open and died.

We might well have something
up our sleeves for you.

You know, even if I would have
found a place to land,

I would've had to send somebody
to Carlisle for a motor truck.

Well, we may not be at the forefront
of aerodynamical mechanics, Mr. Emperor,

but I'm sure my men can
rustle up an air filter...

from available materials,
wouldn't you say, Jim?

What would that be,
Mr. Pettigrew?

I was just thinking that
what might do the trick...

in terms of replacing the air filter
might well be some of our Sphagnum.

Sphagnum?

You are, at this moment, Mr. Emperor,
privileged to be standing...

in the only Sphagnum
moss factory in Europe.

- And the biggest.
- And the best.

My father invented and patented
the Pettigrew Power Intensifier.

Did he, you say?
Flabbergasting.

- Flabbergasting.
- It fits onto the carburetor.

Mr. Emperor, are you going to let
us have a ride in your airplane?

Well, I think it's up to
your father to say. Ask him.

Dad, can I?

Dad says the view of Kiloran...

was a sight he would treasure
for the rest of his life...

and that we all
looked like bugs.

But he says I'm far too young
to go up in the plane.

It was seeing Kiloran from up
in the emperor's airplane...

that gave him
one of his best ideas.

It was during the Great War that
we first started mining moss.

It was used for
putting on soldiers' wounds...

because it was ten times more
absorbent than cotton wool.

So when they were
horribly wounded,

it was our moss that soaked up
their blood and guts and everything.

This is, by far,
the most effective solution.

You could see it so clearly from the airplane.
We reroute the moss trail through hillside,

and we save a three-mile journey
to the pressing plant.

Aye if you say so,
Mr. Pettigrew.

Just lay the charges, Andrew. Let me
worry about the logistical planning.

Good Lord. What's that buffoon
doing now, Mother?

Let me handle this, Morris.

- Give us a hand with that, will you?
- Edward!

Edward!

I don't think Mrs. Macintosh
will be too pleased.

Oh, that'll be the cavalry arrived. Master
Morris there--a right hard-nosed bugger.

If I know Master Morris there'll be no more of
this damned foolish dynamiting nonsense.

He'll not be keen to see
his inheritance blown to pieces.

I have never
in all my born days...

witnessed such
irresponsible behavior.

The estate is not yours,
Edward, to go around...

destroying and exploding
without so much as by-your-leave.

And besides, you'll
frighten the sheep!

What makes you think
it's yours to blow up, Edward?

Sheer bloody-minded
vandalism, I should say.

Andrew, tell the men to pack up
when they've cleared this.

- We'll be doing no more blasting today.
- Right, Mr. Pettigrew.

- Andrew Burns says it was a very good
- idea, Dad does he? Ah, well.

Uncle Morris has rolled back
into town,

and Gamma thinks Uncle Morris knows
best when it comes to managing Kiloran,

even though he lives 500 miles away and
only shows his face once in a blue moon.

I know. And he's
a right hard-nosed bugger.

- Fraser Pettigrew!
- What's a blue moon, Dad?

My dad has two obsessions.'

Beethoven and the Bible.

- As usual, every Sunday, we have to listen
to him preach. - Mens Sana in corpore sano--

a healthy mind in a healthy body.

But what is it we mean when
we speak of a healthy mind?

We mean a direct, manly attitude
towards our faith. -

Now, I take my text today from the words
of the glorious hymn by William Blake.'

"Bring me my bow of burning gold,
Bring me my arrows of desire"

Until we have built Jerusalem--

Uncle Morris says our minister's
liver is going to explode.

But if you're a minister, you'll go
straight to heaven, won't you?

Dad, when people die
and go to heaven,

does everybody get
a house of their own?

- To live in?
- Uh-huh.

Well, heaven is like living in the place
you love best for all eternity.

So it'd be just like staying here,
then, wouldn't it?

It'd be like
not dying at all.

Fraser, that's very poetically put,
and it's very apt.

I was just thinking something
along those lines myself...

about the nature of home.

Don't forget to wash
your hands, now, Finlay.

In pastures green

Magnificent.

Norwegian pine,
Sitka spruce.

- What are they, Uncle Morris?
- Commercial softwoods.

- What's a commercial softwood? - It's what your
father should be planting instead of his moss.

Trees for the paper
and timber industry,

not handfuls of sphagnum moss
from out of a filthy bog.

You'll miss Sunday lunch!

Ah. Come on-- lunch.

Donald, Finlay, come on-- lunch!

- I'm coming, Mr. Macintosh! I'm coming,
Uncle Morris! I'm coming!

My uncle Morris
had made his fortune in Liverpool...

and his home in London, when he wasn't
nightclubbing around Paris and Monte Carlo.

He always brings the latest
jazz records with him,

mostly to irritate my father.

One time I heard him tell my dad
that he'd kick us out of Kiloran...

once he'd inherited it, and that we'd
have to live in the moss factory.

But Dad said Uncle Morris
was only kidding.

We reckon he's a good laugh,
our uncle Morris.

Who's this? Who's this?

- Reverend Finlayson!
- Yes!

- Good!
- I saw him drinking out of the Bible.

Oh! He had a drink
out of the Good Book, did he?

Oh, well, there you are.

Here, I think I'll sit here a moment.
Hold this, Finlay.

Gamma doesn't let Father
smoke in the house.

My father smokes
wherever he wants.

He used to have to ask
my mother, but now he doesn't.

Uncle Morris, do you have to do everything
you're told by Gamma Macintosh as well?

Ooh, absolutely,
without a shadow of doubt,

- and seek permission for any new venture.
- What new venture?

Well, let's say for instance--
just for an example--

say I was of a mind
to get married.

If old Mrs. Macintosh said no, would you
have to tell your betrothed it was all off?

Well, let's just suppose
that my prospective wife...

was a good deal younger
than I am,

and she just happened
to be French.

Is she very beautiful?

Oh, yes.

Oh, yes, Finlay.

Is she as beautiful
as my mother?

You think Moira's
beautiful, huh?

- My wee sister, beautiful?
- Of course I do.

Father says, "My, my, you're looking
beautiful today.

Fancy slipping upstairs
for a slank, Moira?"

A slank? Is that what he says?

- I must remember that.
"Slip upstairs for a slank" - What? What?

Why's that funny? What?

Mister says,
"Fancy a wee slank, Missus?"

"Time for a slank"
"Thank you for a slank-you"

Slank you, bank you,
ank you, slank you!

Hey! Hey... Fraser!
Fraser!

Fraser! Stop it!

You're only jealous of her

'cause my mother's beautiful
and your mother's Dead!

You shouldn't have said that.
That was very mean!

And, you know, just because he
made fun of your mother

doesn�t mean to say
you can be cruel, you know.

I want you to go an apologize
to Donald Burns.

Yes, Uncle Morris
I, m Sorry!

The accounts are a shambles, Mother.

Then income from this nonsensical
moss business is a pittance.

All Dad's investment in this estate
is just... dribbling away.

Right!

Boys, six breaths!

- One, two, three, four,
- Just look at him.

Five, six!

Let's go!
Come on, gird your loins!

You're all bonkers!

I mean, all this running around
naked and dog behavior.

There may be a bit
of a fool in Edward, but he's a kind fool.

Kiloran isn't a business,
Morris. It's our home.

Your father understood that
better than anyone.

Edward worships Moira,
and Moira adores him.

You're just an old softy,
Mother.

- Good Lord! Stoddard, isn't it?
- Aye, Mr. Morris.

Didn't I dismiss you last summer?

- Mr. Pettigrew brought you back,
did he? Typical. - Uh-huh.

You know, Mother, I think it's time
I sorted this place out.

I mean, it's just bedlam,
like a zoo!

No, Daddy! Daddy, no!

Whoa!

Procrastination only intensifies
the sensation of shock, boys!

I'm clean, Daddy, I promise you.
I'm very, very clean!

Ha-ha-ha!

It's not healthy, Father.
Dr. Gebbie said I had to tell you.

It could make your heart stop.

- I'm gonna run and hide in the woods.
- Fraser, no!

Fraser, come back!

That was the first
time that I saw the hairy man.

No one else saw him. He must
have been a figment. -

Anyway, I think he was
more frightened than I am.

If you plant a boiler house and
a chimney stack there, Edward,

You will disfigure Kiloran beyond repair.

And if you put a chimney there,
dear, the smoke will blow...

into the nursery, dear--
we'll poison our children.

Uh-huh.

Aha!

The Pettigrew Draft-Assisted
Horizontal Underground Fume Extractor.

Brilliant, Mr. Pettigrew!

Really, Moira.
The man's mad.

Who ever heard of a chimney
under the lawn?

Edward's terribly practical,
Mother. I'm sure it'll work.

What, and this is for insulating
all the new central heating pipes?

- That's right, Andrew.
- I've never seen anything like it in my puff!

Aye, and they've decided
to call it "asbestos"

Oh! Tastes like
your mother's porridge.

Oh!

Do you really have a fiancee,
Uncle Morris?

- Do I what?
- Do you really have a fiancee, Uncle Morris?

Indeed, I do, Finlay.
Indeed, I do.

- Is she a secret?
- Well, she was until this afternoon.

What's her name, Uncle Morris,
and where did you meet her?

Her name is Heloise, and I suppose
I met her on a golf course.

Frog's legs--
that's another one.

- Also snails and slugs.
- Ugh! -Slugs?

- That's unbelievable.
- It's disgusting, you mean.

It's hardly likely, Katie, you would be expected
to perform French cookery for the woman.

Good, plain, Scottish fare
will have to do her.

Finest food in the world--
none of your fancy trimming�s...

or garlic.

I ate garlic once. I was confined to my
bed for nearly a month with rheumatic pains,

- and even a little gout.
- You went to bed with a little goat, Marnie?

No, dear. Not "goat."

I was confined to my bed
with a little "gout"

Is it true Mr. Morris met his
fiancee on his golfing tour?

Apparently she was playing
in a dance band.

Oh, he's a great one for the dancin',
our Master Morris.

- Playing what?
- Well, apparently, it was a musical instrument.

Maybe a glockenspiel?

She plays a French cello,
and her name is Heloise.

- Aha? The French cello, Master Fraser?
- Uh-huh.

Uncle Morris was having a whiskey
and soda to buck up his spirits...

after losing to a dreadful bogie on the 17th,

when this beautiful music
wafted into the room.

He went through to see what it was, and he
saw Heloise bowing her cello in the French trio.

And he said to himself
there and then,

"That's the girl for you,
Morris, my boy"

He asked the leader of the trio if the
lovely cellist would play him a solo.

He requested
"Le Cygne" by Saint-Saens...

'cause he knew it was French,
and he wanted to impress her.

The very next day he took her to Robbie
Burns' cottage for a cream tea...

and asked her if she'd do him
the honor of becoming his wife.

Oh! I think that's so lovely,
so sad as well.

- I think that makes you want to weep!
- Get a hold of yourself, Sarah.

What was it again that Mr. Morris asked
his fianc�e to play for him, Master Fraser?

"Le Cygne", which means "the swan."

- It's French for "swan"
- That is so beautiful!

"The swan" Would that be a song you
would know yourself, Fraser?

Uh-huh. Mumsie has it
on a gramophone recording.

It's this:

- Ah, that was beautiful, Heloise!
- Thank you so much.

- I see you're wearing the choker. - I wonder
whether you and I might have a talk, Mother.

You could just see that swan.

It would be my pleasure to conduct you on a
personal tour of the Pettigrew world of moss.

- I'd like that very much. Thank you
so much. - That was lovely.

- I adored it! It was lovely.
- Uncle Morris?

What, Fraser?

Good luck, Uncle Morris.

The moss itself has properties which are one
at the same time both antiseptic and--

- Sphagnum is ten times more
absorbent than cotton wool. - Oh!

These women we see here are
the cutters and the balers.

Afternoon,
Mr. Pettigrew, sir.

Ahey, Cyric! Brawn, bonny afternoon
of it we're having, my lassie!

It's an advantage to have a working
knowledge of the local vernacular.

- The cutters and the balers--
- The cutters have the job of cutting the moss.

- And the balers--
- The balers have the job of doing the baling.

- Fraser--
- Oh!

A considerable quantity of water has
to be removedfrom the moss...

- before it can be racked
in the drying shed-- - For drying!

And we made cigars
from the dried moss. Didn't we, Dad?

It is not one of our better ideas.

Hey, Fraser.

Now, this is just taking
some soap down to the cottage.

- Oh!
- Just one of my little--

- What's this?
- Father made it himself.

Now, what we have here is the, uh--

A little storeroom shop
we have here.

We might be able to knock up
a couple of little selections--

- Look! There's Jim Menries.
- Hello!

He's our blacksmith. He's so strong
he can crack things in half.

Oh, that's very impressive.

Mmm!

Oh! Oh!

Is all the moss factory
your father's invention, Fraser?

All of it, everything! It's the only moss
factory in the entire continent of Europe.

Mmm, he's a very clever man,
your father.

I know. He's an inventor
and a genius.

Mmm.

What a beautiful scent.

It reminds me
of when we would catch...

ecrevisses in the river and wrap
them in moss to bring them home...

- when I was your age.
- What age are you now, miss?

Hmm.

I'm 24, but don't tell
your grandmother.

What are ecrevisses?

Ecrevisses are crayfish,

ignorant little boy,

a species of miniature
freshwater lobster.

And very delicious to eat.

- I-I knew that, Father. I meant--
- Well, Fraser,

I think you've pestered Heloise with your
silly, irritating prattle quite long enough...

- for one afternoon.
- I haven't!

You're severely testing my patience.
Can you not see Heloise is bored stiff?

- Now, up to the house. Up to the house!
- But Dad--

I'd like you to accept this small gift
as a souvenir of my moss factory.

Soap, cologne and
a soothing unguent of sphagnum.

It's you that's irritating,
and it's you that's pestering,

- and it's you that's ignorant!
- Ah, Fraser!

How would you like to be the first young
man to shake your favorite uncle's hand?

Leave me alone!
I hate him!

Fraser! What happened?
What's the matter?

That boy is getting out of control. His father
had better take a firmer hand with him.

One tantrum hot on the heels
of another.

Fraser.

Fraser?

Whoo-hoo!

Oh. Fraser.

Fraser!

Come talk to Mumsie, darling.

Enchante.

Enchante.

It's Dad's fault I'm ignorant, because
he never tells me about anything useful.

If you ask him why Beethoven is
so wonderful, he says stuff like,

Beethoven
is the sound of God talking in His sleep.

And if you ask him why he hates jazz,
he says things like,

Jazz is the sound of the devil
sniggering at our folly, Fraser.

So you end up not knowing anything--

except now I know for sure
the devil doesn't lurk in our attic,

because that's where I lurk.

The devil lurks
wherever he wants.

He's like me,'he isn't afraid
of heights either.

I've decided to read all
of Grandpa Macintosh's books...

so that I know more
than my dad does.

Someone has written
inside the cover--

"Dearest Samuel, Forbidden fruits
are always the sweetest.

I have many things I'd like to teach you,
if only we could find the opportunity.

The very thought arouses me
to lubricious ecstasies"

Probably a golfing friend.

Well, if you're ready, sir,
I'll lead off.

All right?
Mr. Macintosh.

We're ready, Andrew.
You just give the word.

Bye-bye!

Fraser!

I was looking for you.

So, you enjoy Saint-Saens.

Yes, when you played it,
Auntie Heloise.

Was that the music you played when Uncle
Morris became smitten, Auntie Heloise?

Listen, when nobody's around,
I want you to call me simply "Heloise."

D'accord?

Okay. Um,
do you know what this is?

It's jazz.

Mmm.

Life can be so sweet

On the sunny side of the street

Heloise!

I thought it was one of
the children misbehaving.

Morris told me you sing.

No. No, not--
Well, not really.

- Well, a little bit.
- Ah!

I auditioned,
but nothing came of it.

- Ah. - Blanche Marquese thought
I might have a future, but,

alas, it was not to be.

Perhaps we could try a duet.

N-Now?

Yeah, I would, actually.

Oh, on the cello. Of course. You--

- Fantastic!
- Okay.

Oh, my love is like

A red, red rose

That's newly sprung in June

Oh, my love is like a melody

That's sweetly played in tune

As fair art thou

My bonny lass

So deep in love am I

That I will love thee

Still, my dear

Till all the seas gang dry

Till all the seas gang dry my dear

Till all the seas gang dry

And I will love thee still my dear

Till all the seas gang dry

Mmm.

Waist, waist, waist--
Aye, aye, aye--

Twenty-two, twenty-two,
aye, aye, on the waist.

Inside leg! Inside leg!

- Aye-- Twenty-one, twenty-one--
- No, go away!

- Go away! Go away! - All right, boys.
You can put your things on now.

Oh, Scottish men.

- Oh, it's gorgeous! - Yeah. That's
for your auntie Heloise, now, Meg.

- It used to belong to my dear
husband's mother. - I know.

Morris told me when he gave it to me.
I think it is the most beautiful thing.

I wore it on the first day
to please you.

Well, you did please me.
Morris is a very fortunate man.

- Mumsie,
- Yes, love?

Aunt Heloise says
we can call her just Heloise.

We will call your aunt Heloise
"Auntie", I think, young madam.

Sorry, Gamma.

I've fallen
head-over-heels with Heloise.

I think everybody has.

Rhythm and timing!

This little unsuspecting fishy
hiding in the weeds, when suddenly--

the hunter strikes!

My dad decided...

it's time to learn the manly
art of hunting fish. -

Fraser, liberate your brother,
will you?

This means getting up
before everybody else...

and standing in freezing-cold water,

and you have to sing bits of Beethoven
to be in the proper rhythm.

I spent half my time learning
to fish in ice-cold water...

and half my time learning things
out of Grandpa Macintosh's secret books.

In one of the books,
Greek Mythology,

there's a lovely picture of a lady and
a swan, which is "le cygne" in French.

Also another lady called Pacify and
her pet bull which she loved hugely.

Cast!

I found an article about a thing
called "prostitution" read it three times.

It's one of the most interesting
things I've ever come across.

There aren't just secret books, there are
also secret engravings hidden in them.

These are mainly of Belgian ladies
with all their clothes off,

which is called being
"in dishabille"

Also in
the Encyclopedia of Ethics,

it says what to do if you accidentally
see pictures like these.

What's really great about learning
the manly art of fishing is...

that it gives you loads of time to think about
what you've read in the secret library,

and the books give you loads of things
to think about while you're fishing.

And that's why my dad
wants me out of the attic--

because he doesn't want me
to know anything.

It probably suits him if I'm ignorant and don't
know about the things he knows about,

like the naked ladies
in Grandpa Macintosh's library.

Well, now I probably know
more about naked ladies than he does.

Come on.
Come on, Doggit.

So then if we knock that wall down there
and extend three yards that way,

then we'll have room
for the drying machines to--

- I love this moss.
- So do I.

It's like a perfume.

- Morris, of course, hates it.
- No, he doesn't.

He wants to destroy it, all of it.
He has no soul, your fiance.

- He has no romance in his soul.
- Edward.

So, uh--

Now, do I--
do I get the kiss,

- like-like you did with, uh, Fraser?
- What?

You know, how you rewarded him
for, uh, throwing moss.

Fraser's a child.

And you-- Morris'
child-bride-to-be?

Edward--
I don't want this talk.

Edward, I want to go
back to the house now.

Stop it!
Arrete! Please!

Don't ever... ever do that again!

You're behaving like a child.

- Yes?

I beg your pardon, Mr. Morris,

but Jim's just arrived from the station
with what looks like more guests.

Ah! Excellent, excellent.

Oh, yes. It's Hector
and Lillian. Good.

Her name's Lillian, but, uh,
we call her "Billy"

Ah!

Hm.

- We'll just, uh, put these back in
the study, will we? - Why?

Oh, you know how Gamma
is about strong drink.

Not that I disagree myself, especially
with Mr. Finlayson at dinner.

Why don't you just leave them
where they were, in fact, Edward?

Wouldn't want to appear inhospitable.

Edward,
this moss business--

What about the moss?

If you're going to manage this place properly,
you'll have to come up with a better scheme--

something that's
more realistic, less childish.

What's childish about the sphagnum moss
processing factory?

Just look at yourself.
You're a grown man.

You're still walking around the place...

with hanks of the stuff hanging off of
your clothes and sticking out of your hair.

Yeah.

Look at that.
You can't get away from it.

There'll have to be some
serious changes here--

some cutbacks and the like.

What are you getting at, Morris?

You're so busy wheeling and dealing,
making your money...

that you forgotten
that we're a family here--

a happy family.

- Good morning, wee Fraser!
- Hello!

You breeze in here with your exotic...
child fiancee...

less than half your age, and you throw
your weight around. -

- Ah! Just look at you two!
- Morris!

A couple of desperados
up from the big city.

Morris, darling.

Welcome back to the pie, old chaps.

Heloise! There you are.

Are you all right?

Come on, I want you to meet some
friends. This is Billy and Hector.

- This is Heloise,
- Enchante. Bonjour.

My exotic child fiancee.

Listen! You'll never believe
this in a million years.

- It's for disemboweling deer. Look!
- Shh, Fraser. What, Sissie?

One of Mr. Morris' friends is a woman
dressed up as a man, called Billy.

Only his real name's Lillian--
her name, I mean.

What do you mean,
dressed up as a man called Billy?

You mean like a cowboy?
You mean like Billy the Kid?

- You mean like fancy dress?
- Is it like a costume?

No, that's how she's dressed--
as if she was really a man in real life.

Probably a lesbian.

Master Fraser, you'll get skinned alive
for language like that.

They generally come
from the Greek island of Lesbos...

- and are called lesbians for that reason.
- Oh, Master Fraser!

Language like what, Sarah?

I never said a word! It's him
should get his mouth washed out!

Although I don't think Billy or Lillian
Are traditional Greek names.

There's no chance
one of you young lovelies...

might find it in their hearts
to iron these for me, is there?

Crawford saw Jesus
on the lawn this morning.

- On the lawn.
- Who?

Jesus--just right out there on the lawn.

Jesus Christ!

Didn't you, Crawford?

Uh-huh.

Jesus walked across the loch
and over the lawn towards the house.

Was Jesus by any chance
wearing a pair of Edward's...

semi-submersible,
vulcanized pantaloons?

I know who you mean.

I've seen him too. I saw him
down in the moss factory this morning...

- when the lady screamed.
- Who screamed?

Fraser, Jesus doesn't like little boys
who tell wicked fibs.

- Sorry, Gamma, but--
- Sometimes Jesus might forgive a fib...

if it's to protect a loved one
from harm, Fraser.

No. If you claim to be a Christian,
and you tell a lie, you are a hypocrite...

and not a Christian.

You can't do a bad thing and be a good
man. You can't have it both ways.

Now, who can I help
to a little glass of this claret?

- Minster, you'll not object to keeping
Morris company... -Oh!

- Amongst all these abstemious souls?
- Well--

- No, there is a wedding to celebrate.
- Well, really, I don't like to--

I really don't think I should.
O-O-O-On the other hand--

I wouldn't like to--

Sissie, you must tell Mrs. Henderson her
cock-a-leekie soup's a triumph.

I think it's meant to be
cream of asparagus, ma'am.

Your trifle ready
for the cream yet, Sarah?

Says sherry first,
then whip cream, Mrs. Henderson.

Oh! Right.

You may fetch some sherry
from the cellar.

Oh, right, girls-- vegetables.
Sissie, you're neeps.

I'm potatoes. Aggie, you can be
Brussels sprouts. Come on, come on!

It's the scandal of the thing.

- Terrible suffering of the families.
- Oh, God, he's off.

Miners have seen their wages
actually cut in half.

It's no wonder they threaten
to withdraw labor.

I believe I hear talk that there's to
be a bonspiel at Kiloran this winter...

in honor of the newlyweds.

Who shall blame them? -Who, indeed,
Mr. Finlayson? Who, indeed?

- Edward?
- Well, if the Lord sees fit to bless us...

with three inches of deep black ice, that's
exactly what we'll be having, Sir David.

What is this bonspiel, Morris?

Curling-- slippery bowling.

It's the Scottish nation's
greatest gift to the world--

after golf, that is.

Ah, it's a game, I see.

Mrs. Henderson,
you've excelled yourself.

It's rarely she manages
anything so good.

- So, are dogs allowed in? Yes.
- To heaven?

- Dogs-- perfectly free of sin
in their hearts. - Of course.

So heaven is full of
people's pets that have died...

and gone to wait for them.

The Christian faith
is a very muscular thing, Heloise.

- It isn't damaged by ridicule.
It's much stronger than-- - Temptation.

Than duty? Than what?
What is it stronger than?

- What about stoats?
- Quiet, Fraser.

- Yes, what about stoats?
- I'm sorry to say that stoats are vermin.

- In your eyes, not in the eyes of
other stoats. - In the eyes of God.

No, I'll have another wee spoonful
of that, if you don't mind, Sissie.

But why would any god
deliberately create vermin?

They seem to be doomed to eternal
damnation simply for being true...

to their own nature.

Because, by their nature,
some creatures are beyond redemption.

Creatures? How would we define
a creature?

Would I qualify
as a creature, perhaps?

A stoat is not a creature,
miss.

A stoat is a wild beast
of woods and fields,

just like our Fraser.

She's on her fourth helping.

- What? Fourth helping?
- The trifle. I can't get it off her.

No--
not my sherry trifle.

Oh, my God!

I think it's the sweet sherry
that sort of allows it--

That's utter nonsense,
Edward. It's amontillado.

My father wouldn't have
sweet sherry in this house. -

Perhaps Heloise and I could
perform, Mr. Finlayson,

raise funds for the families
of your poor miners.

What a very Christian idea.
And what will you perform?

- A duet, perhaps?
- Prostitution!

No, really.
It's perfect.

Mumsie and Aunt Heloise
could be prostitutes.

They could attend to our urgent needs and earn
a considerable fortune for the miners.

They could service my dad
and Uncle Morris and anybody else...

who could afford their lubricious ministrations.

Fraser, go to my study
and wait for me there.

What? Why?
Wh-What's wrong?

We're all of us prostitutes
in some manner or other.

That's what my Samuel
used to say in business.

He's waiting for me,
you know--

Oh, I miss him.
I miss my Samuel!

- He's waiting for me!
- Come along, Gamma.

Come on. Let's go have
a little lie-down now, shall we?

- There we are. There we are.
- Oh, he's waiting for me!

I miss my Samuel.

He's waiting for me.

He's waiting for me.

It's you that's irritating!
It's you that's pestering,

and it's you that's ignorant!

- Come on, son!
- Fraser!

Where are you?

- Fraser!
- Fraser!

- Where are you? Come on, lad!
- Fraser, where are you?

Gamma's got better
now her trifle's worn off.

She's very angry with Sarah and
says she'll have to let her go.

It was only from the bloody damn
dressing, Mrs. High and Mighty Macintosh!

Jesus Christ Almighty,
Mr. Pettigrew, look.

Dad dredged the
loch for his precious Beethoven busts,

but he found
something else instead.

The hairy man turned out to be
Andrew Burns �cousin Alec...

who'd been shell shocked
during the Great War.

And I've got pneumonia.

The house is the emptiest it ever was,
and it makes me think...

of how it's going to be when Uncle
Morris throws us all out onto the streets...

and plants Norwegian pine
and Sitka spruce all over everything.

That's really scary.

Fraser,

I think you
had better wait outside.

But I thought
you were dead, Gamma.

Outside, Fraser.

I know you're unwell,
Fraser Pettigrew,

and having flights of fantasy
due to delirium,

so we won't speak of this
to anyone.

Is that fully and completely
understood, young man?

I'm sorry, Gamma.

Gamma, when you die and give
the house to Uncle Morris,

what will happen to us?

Whatever happens, my love,
you'll always be looked after.

Anyway, I'm very far
from dead, you know?

- But I thought you'd stopped breathing
and died. - I know you did, Fraser.

That's why we don't sneak into ladies'
bedrooms without knocking first.

- But why? - Because we might
stumble on some dreadful secret...

that makes our hair turn white
and haunts us all our lives.

Is that what turned
your hair white, Gamma?

No, my love. It was
you lot that made my-- Oh!

My hair turn white.

Now, off you go
with Sissie.

Oh, Master Fraser,
you're on fire.

Sissie, is slanking something you have
to do in secret because it's wicked?

- Fraser. - If people get caught slanking,
are they in terrible trouble?

- Daft wee boy.
- Slanking!

- Sissie?
- Uh-huh?

You used to teach me a poem when you
used to bathe us before we went to bed.

- Remember?
- I don't know any poems, Fraser.

- Yes, you do. You taught me one.
- Which one?

"When I was going down the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.

- He wasn't there again today"
- "I wish, I wish he'd go away"

- Uh-huh. Who is he?
- Who is who?

- Who's that man, Sissie?
- There isn't any man.

I met a man who wasn't there
on the roof. Tell me who he is,

or I'll splash water
all over you.

Aye, and you'll feel the back
of my hand, young man.

Fraser!

I like Sissie.
I like bath time with Sissie even more.

In some ways, she's even better than
Grandpa Macintosh's pictures.

Now, you stay there
and rest, young man.

- I want to help Dad and Andrew fire up the new
boiler, Mumsie. -Oh, you'll do no such thing!

Now, rest, dear Fraser.

Oh, dear.
Oh, heavens above, Edward!

- Oh, goodness me!
- Whoa!

Now, Gamma--
Gamma, uh--

Moira!

What on earth has that man
of yours gone and done now?

I think the heat must have
cracked the joints in the pipe, Mr. Pettigrew!

Edward Pettigrew!

It's fractured
the asbestos slagging.

You've dug your own
grave this time! -

Now, out of the draft and
underneath those covers, Fraser.

Damn and blast!

You know how Mrs. Macintosh
feels about smoking around the house, sir.

Fraser, where on earth
did this come from?

The moss factory. I think Auntie
Heloise must have lost it.

I'll have him boiled alive
in his own juices!

Moira? What's the matter, love?

Oh, don't be silly, dear.
I'm only wanting to give him a fright.

Hmm.

Rotary Screen Mark III seems
a little bit brighter, don't you think?

So, Fraser, what do you think
of the camera work?

Oh, it's very good.

- Look! Here's Heloise and Elspeth!
- Yeah.

Oh, there's Mumsie.
Wave to Mumsie!

- Why is jazz horrible, Dad?
- Contact!

- Lack of moral fiber.
- Not like Beethoven.

That's exactly right, Fraser. Contact!

Beethoven is upright and honest, whereas jazz
is sneaky and treacherous and effeminate...

and just plain foreign. -
Have you got it switched on?

Of course I've got it switched on.
What do you think I mean by "contact"?

- Auntie Heloise likes jazz.
- Yes, well, Auntie Heloise is particularly French,

and French ladies don't understand
the first thing about moral fiber.

- McPherson.
- Good morning, Mr. Pettigrew.

Aye, it's a muckle big pile of letters
today, is it now? Something for you, Fraser.

Thank you.

It's smelly.
Smells like Auntie Heloise.

Don't be ridiculous.

Morning, Master Fraser.

So, uh, what seems to be
the problem here?

- Ma'am. - It's right here.
- Thank you, Aggie.

- Oh.
- Are you cold, Mumsie?

Just a wee bit.
Always seem to be these days.

I've run out of firelighters. You could
fetch some for me, Fraser, hmm?

- Will you pay me?
- Pay you?

Uh-huh. I want to save up
and buy something.

Look. Here it is. Number 32.

Is this what you came up for?
I thought you missed me.

- Hmm. My goodness.
- Just the right size for my room.

That's a lot of firelighters.
You'd best get started, young man.

A penny a dozen.

"Dear Edward, All I want
is to be your sister-in-law...

and your friend.

Please let us forget what happened
and what didn't happen.

No one need ever know.
With best wishes"

Something's
troubling him. He's not himself.

What do you think it is,
Andrew?

Oh, worries about the estate,
I expect--

about your uncle Morris
and the changes he'll make,

the future, the family-- all the things
a father worries about.

Sometimes children worry
as well, though.

And what do they
worry about, Fraser?

Do you think there's
something evil about jazz?

Are we having
a debate here, Fraser?

It's a Socratic dialogue, Andrew.
It's how you find out about the world,

how it works.

I'll tell ya how it works.

In the heart of this world
there's a molten core,

thousands of degrees Fahrenheit
of boiling magma.

Do you know what magma is?

Well, it's like lava, only thicker.

The fundus of the boiling heart
moves the continents around...

on the surface of the Earth,

and the continents crunch
into one another to make the mountains.

I thought--
Didn't God make the mountains?

- In the first place?
- Uh-huh.

Aye, well, there is
some argument about that.

Have you carved out
your lantern yet, Fraser?

- For Halloween? - Aye. Cassie
and Donald have done theirs.

You'll get your shoes back
for the walk home... if you're good.

Halloween is a time of great evil...

when terrible crimes
and atrocities happen,

like, for instance,
a gay gordance.

We're going to start
with a gay gordance.

Now, since some of you probably
aren't familiar with a gay gordance,

Fraser Pettigrew and Cassie Burns
will lead us through it all very slowly.

- Fraser?
- Mumsie.

Fraser.

Come on, everybody up!
Come on!

- All together, now.
- All the boys and girls. That's it!

That's it!

- I warned you, Fraser Pettigrew!
- Warned me what?

- That's it. That's it!
- What?

Moira. Moira!

- Edward, do something.
- Stop this nonsense!

- All right!
- This is ridiculous. Stop it, Finlay!

- Finlay! Edward!
- All right! All right!

- Off! Off! Off!
- Come on! Break it up!

- Fraser!
- You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

He's touchin' my sister.
He was feelin' her ass.

- He was feelin' my sister's ass and her
titties as well. - That's enough.

I wasn't touchin' anybody!
I was just doing the gay gordance.

- I've had lessons!
- That's enough!

He told me to look after her
and to see nobody touches her.

I wasn't touchin' anybody.
I was doin' the gay gordance!

The Encyclopedia of Ethics also said...

that Halloween needed
a human sacrificece to be any good.

Think yourselves lucky
I don't thrash you both with my cane.

Now go up and apologize
to Mrs. Macintosh.

This year it's me and Donald,
so that makes us friends,

and Donald is taking me to see
something really amazing.

Come on, you!

- Steady.
- Come on.

- There we are, mate.
- What are they doing?

Are they gonna have a fight? -It's a bulling.
They're gonna give it a servicin'.

That's it.

- Steady, steady.
- Wow.

Aye.

There we are.

The Encyclopedia says dancing
with girls is one of the pleasures of the flesh,

but I didn't enjoy
dancing the gay gordance.

I read about a thing
called an... orgy,

and about harems.

Then I fell asleep and dreamt
about Auntie Heloise.

So, when you wake up after
one of these dreams, Fraser,

- Uh-huh.
- And the bed's wet,

- Not hardly ever. - And it was a
very nice dream that you were having--

- I hardly ever wet the bed anymore,
Father. - No, I know.

- I haven't since I was very little--
- No, I know, I know, Fraser.

But if, um--

When, in the future,

you feel something well up
from deep within you,

- from the core of your very being--
- Like magma?

- Uh-- What's magma?
- It's--

it's like lava, only thicker.

Well, probably.

- But when you've had a very nice
dream-- - I have nice dreams as well.

- Precisely. - I dreamt about
Auntie Heloise playing jazz.

- It was the first dream I've ever
had that had music in it. - Dear God.

Well, next time you hear music in a dream,
as soon as you've waken up in the morning...

you must run down to the loch with me and
have a cold plunge-- mens sana in corpore sano.

- "Healthy mind in a healthy body"
- Healthy body. I know.

Yeah. Well.

Well,
that's all cleared up then.

So, uh, Fraser, is there anything
you'd like to ask me about?

What's an... orgy, Father?

- Uh-huh.
- And, uh-- and a fellatio--

is it like a trombone
the angels blow into in heaven?

Uh--

They're both, I believe, Fraser,

what we call temptations of the flesh.

I know that,
but what are they?

- What are what?
- Temptations of the flesh.

What are they?

Well--
What are they?

Uh, what are they?

Well, they--
Well, I'll tell you what they are.

They are to be resisted
at all costs.

- Gamma?
- Hmm?

Did gods in ancient Greece
turn themselves into animals, really?

Well, what do you mean
by "really", Fraser?

- Did they actually do it?
- Well, sometimes they actually did it, in legend.

Why didn't Jesus ever turn
himself into an animal, Gamma?

Oh, turning oneself into an animal isn't
very Christian, Fraser.

I think if I was Jesus, though,

I would have liked
to turn myself into a swan, or a bull.

I think that is quite enough
about if you were Jesus, young man.

I've always wanted to be
a polar bear.

Get by the fire! Hello.
How are you?

- Ooh, Marnie. Ooh, Marnie.
- Fraser!

Mumsie, they're here!
Uncle Morris and Auntie Heloise.

Fraser, my favorite nephew!
Come!

- Give a kiss to your old Auntie Heloise!
- Mumsie! Mother!

Auntie Heloise
and Uncle Morris!

They've arrived
for the bonspiel!

- Heloise.
- Yes?

- Happy?
- Yes, very.

I hope you are.

Those... are the Ailsa Craigs,
Fraser.

Your grandfather's
favorite stones.

Aye, I used to polish them
personally for him.

They're the best ones--
real beauties.

Why are they the best, Tom?

A very dense granite,
and a very fine grain.

That means the stone
has massive momentum,

if you've the muscle on ya
to get them movin'.

Here, look at this.

Plutonic igneous granite.

What does "plutonic" mean?

Pluto was the god of darkness,
a black prince of Hades.

These stones are from magma,
Fraser,

forged in the very bowels
of hell--

- speaking geologically, of course.
- Wow!

The bonspiel is when all
the curling teams from all around...

play in a huge contest.

Young Jim--
Young Jim, Big Jim.

I want a side bet for the miners.
I'll have ten guineas on this one.

Ten guineas on you, boy.

Ladies and gentlemen,

today, for the first time ever,

we are competing
for the Macintosh Challenge trophy.

Curling was
my Samuel's passion--

a game that could be shared
by all.

I dedicate this bonspiel
to my dear departed husband,

Samuel Macintosh.

On my signal,
let the roaring game begin!

Sweep! Sweep!

Luck of the devil.
Well done, though, sweeps!

The best noise in all the world.
As good as jazz.

- Are you winning, Uncle Crawford?
- No. In a word, Fraser,

we're getting thrashed.

Angie's team is just
limbering up against us, Fraser.

I fancy they'll be lifting the cup at the
end of the day. - Not a chance.

- These miner boys are unstoppable.
- Nonsense. You want to bet?

Edward, I'm a millionaire.
What are you going to bet me?

- And what is that supposed to mean?
- It means what do you have...

that I might want
to take from you in a bet?

What do I have, Morris?
What do I have?

- This.
- Sorry? What?

This, this-this place,
this estate.

Kiloran, the moss factory.
What I have?

I'll bet you everything Andrew's
team'll take the bonspiel.

- Everything.
- All right, Skip!

What makes you think
it's yours to bet, Edward?

Sweep! Sweep!

- And what about you, hmm?
- How do you mean?

Well, what would you put up
in return? Eh, Morris?

What's the millionaire got
that he couldn't bear to lose?

What means more than anything?
All his money?

Business? His two homes?

What means more to you
than anything else?

I suppose you're referring
to my wife, hmm?

And what makes you think
she's yours to bet, Morris?

- Crack down, Jim Menries!
- Crack down, Jim Menries!

Crack down!
Crack down, Jim Menries!

Aaah!

What the hell was that?

Stone's cracked, Andrew, son.
Handle's loose. The stone's rubbish, I'm afraid.

I'll get the stone, Andrew.

Oh, come on, Andrew. Hey! And--

The emperor.

The emperor of the air!
The emperor's coming!

Mumsie, Mr. Chenoux's coming!

The emperor's
come back to see us,

although I suspect he's really
come back to see Elspeth.

Mr. Chenoux, can I have a ride
in your airplane, please?

No, no, no, Fraser. You're a wee bit
too young. Mr. Chenoux, meet Heloise.

Heloise, this is Mr. Chenoux.

- She's French, and, uh--
- Morris Macintosh.

I'd like to present my mother.

Hurry, lads!

Hot pot's ready!
Hot pot's ready!

Come on, put the stones back.

She moves with a remarkable elegance,
don't you think, Fraser?

- Auntie Heloise?
- No, not your auntie-- your sister, Elspeth.

Like a swan.

- Elspeth?
- Yeah.

- Whaa!
- Who-Whoa!

I think the emperor
wants to dance with Elspeth...

because all that's on his mind
is slanking.

- Ahh!
- He's French.

What a pleasure
to have you in my arms.

Anyway, who wants to slank Elspeth?

- Gamma, please.
- What's the matter now, Fraser?

Can Jim Menries play with Grandfather's
stones if we make it to the final?

- The Ailsa Craigs-- can Jim and Andrew have--
- No, I don't think so, Fraser.

- That's not appropriate.
- But Uncle Morris,

Gamma says it's a game
that can be shared by everyone.

Yes, well, never mind
about that, Fraser. I said no.

Now, go on, run along.
Eat your stew.

Thank you, Mother.
We'd better get back.

Gamma!

Get her out!

Come on, lads!

It's Mrs. Macintosh--

I never got to fly
with the emperor of the air,

and Gamma died a few weeks later
from pneumonia.

It's time to go now, angel. Come on.

Come on.

Gamma!

It wasn't just Gamma that died that day.

Kiloran would never
be the same.

She was Kiloran,

and the world we'd always known
quietly slipped away with her.

A good cry helps.

Our dear Lord surely knew what
He was doing when He made it...

so easy for the ladies
to have a good cry.

Moira.

Dear Moira,

Jesus came for Gamma.

In her will, Gamma decided
to give the estate to us,

not Uncle Morris.

And if only Uncle Crawford
would stop going on about Jesus.

Jesus held her hand.

- No, He did not!
- Did not what, Fraser?

Jesus!
That's a wicked fib!

You're only making it up
to make Mumsie feel better.

But you're not.
You're making her feel worse!

Fraser, that's quite enough.
Speak to a grown-up like that.

- I>Edward, the child is upset.
He's only trying-- - I'll thank you...

- not to interfere, Heloise.
- Don't listen to your father, Fraser.

Leave the bloody child alone
when I'm talking to him, woman.

- Don't you dare use that
tone of voice with my wife! -Enough!

This is my home and I'll be damned if I'll let
you throw your weight around any longer!

I think we should leave now.

My mother never saw through you,
Pettigrew. I do though.

You're a shabby little Lothario.
You're a--

You're a joke!

You're not fit to run
my mother's estate!

My estate, Morris. My estate.

Is this really what you want, Morris,
more than anything?

Hmm? Except, you see,
I've already won it!

I'm not talking about
the estate either, Morris.

I won the bet months ago.

Stop it!

- Stop it! Stop it!
- Morris--

It was a silly bet.

Do you think I don't know...

about you and her?

I suppose you've had
your hands on her.

Do you think I'm blind?
That I am a fool?

Do you think I don't know
that you want her--

her instead of me?

Instead of us?

Edward, please--

Edward, you must listen to me.

Understand me, Edward.

This is our home.

Morris is gone.

I only want you.

You must work out
what it is you want.

I didn't mean to cause
all that trouble.

- I know you didn't.
- Elspeth,

is Dad gonna stay
with Mumsie and the rest of us?

- I don't know, Fraser.
- What did Mumsie mean when she said...

Dad's had his hands
on Auntie Heloise?

Had carnal knowledge of her,
like in the Bible.

Isn't that a dreadful sin?

I don't know. Is it?

Elspeth, is it like a slank?

No. That's something you do
with somebody you love.

Did you do it
with the emperor of the air?

That's not
any of your business, Fraser.

Heloise got it for you.
She brought it from Paris.

She thought it was something
you might enjoy.

Louis Armstrong!

I've been a child.

It wasn't just Morris.

I'm so sorry.

The next few months
weren't easy for any of us,

but Dad worked hard,
and Mumsie finally forgave him.

And bit by bit, Dad remembered
the knack of making Mumsie laugh.

Adultery, sins of the flesh,
sins of the heart--

Where's Fraser?
I thought he was with you.

- I'll go and fetch him.
- Quick, or we'll miss the service.

- Where is he going?
- To look for Fraser.

Ah.

On the sunny side of the street

Can't you hear
that pitter-pat, babe

Your happy tune is your sound

Life can be so sweet

On the sunny side of the street

I used to walk
in the shade

With those blues on parade

But I'm not afraid
baby

My clover's crossed over

If I never have a cent
babe

I'll be rich as Rockefeller

With gold dust at my feet

On the sunny side
of the street

Grab your coat

Grab your hat

Leave your worries
on the doorstep, baby

Just direct your feet

On the sunny side
of the street

Just a few of my scones.
All the best.

Thank you, Mrs. Henderson.
Lisa.

I'll miss you, Master Fraser.

James.
Have you seen my husband this morning?

Ah, Mr. Craig goes down to the walk, m'am.

He said to stop the car an honk
on the way past

to say goodbyes, m'am.

What is it, Fraser?

Last summer, when father's plane crashed,
was it my fault?

No, love.
No.

Your father wasn't meant to fly, Fraser.

He was meant to stay here
and look after us.

All the animals in his zoo.
Hmm.

Off you go.
Ta da.

And James, safely huh?
Right m'am.

Goodbye, Fraser.
Goodbye.

Goodbye.
Good luck, Fraser.

Goodbye, Fraser.

Goodbye, Fraser.

Bye.
Bye-bye.

Aye.
The sun'll be out soon.

Let's go and get a cup of tea
and a meringue.

So.

Are you all ready?

Yes.

You're all set up, then?
Uh huh.

Did you get, um...
Cound you...?

I see you've got your big trunk, there,
and...

Listen, uh...
I thought you might like to know something.

What, father?

You know that word you asked me about?

I looked it up in a...
medical dictionary for you.

Fellatio?

Ah...

Um, believe you me, Fraser,

boarding school is not the place to start.

Thanks, dad.

Well...

I'm going to miss you, Fraser.

Good luck.
Thanks.

See you in the holidays.
Looking forward to it.

I hope you...

I'm glad he deceided to teach me
something helpful, at last.

Even though I didn't have a clue
what he meant, as usual.

Come on!

Anyway, that's my life so far.