All language subtitles for The nine lives of Tomas Katz.2000

[music playing]

Mind the gap.

[buzzer sounds]

[beeping]

(INTERPOSING
MURMURS) He's coming.

He's coming.

He's coming.

He's coming.

He's coming.

RADIO DJ: Welcome back.

Yes, it's finally here.

Solar eclipse day.

And here's that
radio quiz in full.

The eclipse, is it caused
by A, an asteroid, B,

Jupiter, or C, the moon?

Calls 50 p a minute, so
keep those calls coming.

Funny place to
pick up a cab, innit?

The M-25.

Where have you come from?

The sewer.

[techno music playing]

The sewer.

Oh.

Thought you'd come out
the service station.

It's a funny place to
pick up a cab, innit?

The M-25?

I don't know.

Is it?

You tell me.

Might get run over.

What?

Said you might get run over.

Ah.

No.

I don't think that is probable.

Yeah.

It's one of the busiest
roads in Europe, mate.

Oh.

How fascinating.

Yeah.

Some people call this
the never ending road.

It's like a donut.

It goes round and
round and round.

Goes nowhere forever.

Not from around here, are ya?

Ey, you can't smoke
that in here, mate.

It's a non-smoking cab,

Have no worry.

It's not real cigarettes.

Fucking nah.

What line of work you in, then?

I cut people open to find
out where their dreams lurk.

Come again?

You, for instance,
have a recurring dream.

You are in a pub.

Pint, please, mate.

You receive a draft of
beer with great pleasure.

You drink with relief.

And then you turn and look.

And you recognize with terror
that the happy eater has just

come from your
home, where it has

been devouring your children.

Its wetness is the
blood of your sons.

And the dreams started
after your operation.

They placed an alien
organ in your body.

A pig's heart transplant.

And with the pig's heart,
came piggish thoughts.

Well, that's where
you're wrong, mate.

Wasn't a pig's heart,
it was a baboon's.

Baboon's?

Yeah, baboon!

A baboon?

A baboon!

A baboon.
Not a pig.

[oink]

But a baboon.

[squeal]

Where do these thoughts
come from, do you think?

Through ear?

Are you ill?

I don't know.

I don't know where the
thoughts come from.

Everything's been
getting strange.

Stranger.

The traffic patterns
are changing.

The roads are suddenly
empty and then full.

People in this cab are
getting stranger and stranger.

My inner baboon's taking over.

God help me.

Pull over!

Pull over!

What, here?

[dramatic music playing]

[thunder]

[indistinct radio chatter]

Morning's report, sir.

In general, sir, the
situation is worrying.

Our beat officer's
have been sending

in some strange reports.

Why?

What have they seen?

It's not so much
what they've seen

as what they're saying, sir.

Like?

Officer 26, 15:5
reports a higher incidence

of language in Potter's Bar.

Officer Consrook reports a
window conspiracy in Hoxton.

A window conspiracy?

A window conspiracy.

(MALE VOICE WHISPERING)
Stop following me.

Stop following me.

Stop looking at me.

Stop looking at me.

Spy on someone else.

(FEMALE VOICE WHISPERING)
Don't come here.

(MALE VOICE WHISPERING) Why
are you always staring at me?

Today, we break
free of our frames.

I'm watching you.

(FEMALE VOICE WHISPERING)
I'm looking at you.

(MALE VOICE WHISPERING) That
glazing does not impress me.

(FEMALE VOICE
WHISPERING) He is here.

Taxi!

Who are you, then, mate?

Oi, sunshine, who are ya?

What line are you in, then?

Really?

Aren't you that really brilliant
junior minister for fish?

Fisheries, yes.

Rory Spottiswoode.

Rory Spottiswoode.
I see.

Yeah.

What's that you got there, then?

It's my work.

Give us a gander.

I'm afraid it's confidential.

Yeah, I voted for you.

Listen, I've really
got an awful lot to do.

I've really got to get on.

Wait.

See out there, beyond my head?

Yeah?

There's a sign.

What does it say?

This is a non working cab.

Yeah, and what does that mean?

Your cab doesn't work.

No, don't be a plunker.

The cab is working fine.

Put your work away.

Can't I just
look at my papers?

I'm afraid if you just
want to look at your papers,

you're going to have
to step out of the cab.

I am a government minister.

I don't care if you
were the Queen of Sheba.

There's no exceptions.

You'll talk with me.

I don't wish to talk with you.

That's of no consequence.

You talk.

I don't listen.

I talk.

You don't listen.

Have you never been in
a fucking cab before?

I'm lonely.

I'm bored.

The only human contact I get
is through this fucking mirror.

I need some human contact.

I'm the minister of fisheries.

And I've been having extensive
talks with representatives

of Gwupigrubynudnylandia.

It's been hard work.

I've hardly seen my pets
in the last fortnight.

It's hot-- it's--
it's hot in your cab.

I have such great ideas, Roy.

I can make 100 knife
edge decisions every day.

I shouldn't be in fisheries.

Two weeks.

Two miserable weeks, sitting at
tables with carafes and water.

I hate water.

Those bloody
Gwupigrubynudnylandians.

They've disrupted my
routine these last two weeks

with their stupid negotiations.

Now you've seen the suits!

What am I saying?

Where are we?

Who are you?

Who are you?

Where's Mr Spottiswoode?

This way, minister.

- Scotland Yard.
- OK, governor.

Scotland Yard.

Yeah.

Yeah, governor.

Wait.

Don't I know you from somewhere?

Who, me?

No.

Not unless you've
got in my cab before.

Something familiar.

Something strange.

I'll get out here,
whoever you are.

Whoever you are.

I'm Rory.

Rory from Walthamstow.

RADIO DJ: --over to the embassy
where apparently a breakthrough

agreement has been
brokered by the fishing

minister, Mr Spottiswoode.

In view of the grass-skirt
behavior during negotiations,

and the continued
[inaudible] mud slinging

between our two
nations, I have decided

to come down firmly in favor--

and the decision, let me tell
you, has not been an easy one--

of declaring all-out war
on Gwupigrubynudnyland,

and on the Middle Far
Distant East in general.

Let me make it quite
clear that this

is not a limp-wrist, blue hat
war, but the real testosterone.

We have been supplying
arms to Gwupigrubynudnyland

for 20 years.

And now you're
saying we're going

to use them on our own troops.

Yes.

Let's face it, we've
trained these bigots.

Causing havoc, raping au
pairs in towns like Aldershot.

I think it's about
time we packed

them off somewhere foreign
such as Gwupigrubynudnyland.

Let them run amok there.

I mean [inaudible]
are going to suffer.

I'll tell you that.

Because they were personally
responsible for sodomizing

my aunt Julia.

And I've not forgiven them
for that, the bastards.

They're going to be in the thick
of the action from the word go.

[inaudible] are going to die.

I'd like to make this
quite clear to you all.

That's me, Rory Spottiswoode.

The minister of fisheries,
not the minister of defense

has declared war.

I hope you appreciate that.

Who will be in
charge of the campaign?

Ah, now, Captain Birdseye
will be coming out of retirement

to take charge of the Navy.

Get this up close up here,
I'd just like to get this

across to the voting public.

Captain Birdseye products
are extremely healthy

and nutritious.

And if you've not
had an alcopop today,

the day is not truly begun.

Have an alcopop for breakfast,
for the wee ones, little Jimmy.

Give him an alcopop to
start his little day.

Alcopops are going to form the
backbone of our war effort.

But we're not going to war sad.

We are not going to war sober.

We will go into war with
a smile on our faces.

Noted and exulted, the alcapop.

[cheers]

RADIO DJ: Mr Spottiswoode
speaking from the embassy.

We will come back when
we have more information.

Total chaos was
caused on the roads

today when as many as 6,000
black cab drivers were summoned

to the same kosher
meat packaging

plant in North London,
by a strange voice which

they described as angelic.

[music playing]

Here in the
underground control room,

I see myself as
Emperor of London.

And I dream of the
day when London will

cover the entire world surface.

And the United States
of America will be

London's 57th postal district.

And the central line will run
from Alaska to Vladivostok.

And I will control all of
it from this control room.

But for the moment,
a lack of investment

is really getting me down.

Mr Schlauch, you were saying?

Yes, Lindsey.

Read me the last sentence.

Our client profile
is very disencouraging.

Our last customer survey
said the only people

with a very low sense
of self-esteem travel

on the Tube network.

Yes, Lindsey.

The problem with the
underground system

is that no one in
their right minds

would choose to
travel underground.

Yours sincerely, et cetera.

I'm going to buy some fags.

This is London
Underground control.

We've popped out for a few
minutes to buy some fags.

London Underground apologizes
for any inconvenience.

Emperor Schlauch.

Yes?

I have something for you.

A mango.

And a telephone directory.

The book of the
names of the dead.

And the orb of judgment.

[music playing]

RADIO DJ: So this is the
first great opportunity

this lifetime for
those in the southeast

to witness a full solar eclipse.

Unfortunately in
the late afternoon,

so the effect won't be--

A radio is
dangerous from now on.

Our struggle is over.

Our imprisonment in this
tower is at its end.

You both know secretly we
have been preparing for this.

I have met with the (BEEP)
and we shed my earthly form.

Today you unleash the forces
in the underground system.

[AMBIENT NOISE GRADUALLY
INCREASING IN INTENSITY]

London Underground
would like to advise

customers of a situation.

From now on, the entire
earthly underground network

will be shut down.

London Underground apologize
for any inconvenience

this may cause.

This is due to--

[thunderous noise]

It's the Tubes now, sir.

But no one can tell
me what's happened.

Send someone down there.

Well, that's just it, sir.

Sounds stupid, I know,
but nobody seems to be

able to find a Tube station.

The situation in general,
sir, is worrying.

I have a conjecture, Cuthbert.

That it is something to
do with that taxi driver.

In his cab, I sensed the
presence of a strange force.

A force the like of which
I have not felt before.

Cuthbert, today
is a strange day.

The day of a solar eclipse.

The planets are all out of
alignment, and all is in flux.

There may well be today
some psychic disturbance.

And yet I am,
concerned, Cuthbert.

About a pale child
of the astral plane

that represents existence.

I saw her for a brief
moment in that cab.

She seemed to be dying.

Provincial detectives
laugh at me behind my back

because I rely on
the spirit world

to bring criminals to justice.

They call me mystic Meg.

Little do they know that
London, Cuthbert, is a city

built on a mystic network.

London is full of forces
that we know nothing about.

Even the bollards, Cuthbert.

Even the bollards
can have powers.

[abrupt ambient sounds]

Duplicate the facts, devil,
praise, hash, hash, six,

da, da, six, hash, da, six.

And Garland your fax
machine with dog wood rose.

Let not the hand of an
unclean woman press the keys.

Or cast a shadow across the
display during her term.

First of all, [inaudible] had
to attend to the wilderness

during her unclean
time rather than test

the gall of the facts' merits.

A papier mache finger bob,
wards against piratical junglist

radio signals, transmitted
by the deranged,

from the tower block
boroughs of southeast London.

- 'Til later--
- In my--

Back to today's event--

I would just like to
say that in my opinion,

today's event are based on the
idea that, well, the very truth

that the world as
we know it today

has become a cesspit
of blood, excrement--

[ambient singing]

--when you actually
head down there,

you get this big [inaudible].

And I said, I was
telling her the other day

that she fucking pisses
me off, and she spins them

round and round and round--

Get in the car.

What the fuck's going on?

[interposing voices]
- Where are you taking him?

- Hey, shut up.
- What's going on?

Oh, shut it yourself,
why don't you?

Dirty fucking mouth.

Fuck off then!

[music playing]

Bethnal Green, primary
school, arson and mutiny.

Put it on the map.

Other reports, sir.

Officer Firdfirst
reports a grass

blade incident in Tufnell Park.

Officer 24172 reports a scouring
of the inner ear in Wimbley.

And Officer 9391 reports
a smegma trumpet passing

south from Stanford Hill.

It's all over, sir.

Our entire constabulary
has gone insane.

Put them on the map.

The Minister for Fisheries
and the Tube controller,

Schlauch, have been
apprehended, sir.

Should I have them brought
to you for questioning?

Yes, Cuthbert.

[ominous music playing]

Taxi drivers there--

Oh.

--of course it's
had a jam up--

I mean.

I think, Janice, you will find
that most taxi drivers suffer

from extreme mental illness.

And therefore, I think
it's quite unkind of you

to bring this matter up.

ANNOUNCER: If you should
succumb to possession,

the cure shall be to
eat of singing insects.

If their legs rise above the
heads of them, you shall eat.

If their legs rest
below the ears of them,

you shall not eat.

For they are winged creeping
things, and an abomination.

Sit down, gentlemen.

Mr. Schlauch, Mr. Spottiswood.

Sir, I think there's
something appearance-wise--

Silence, Cuthbert.

Gentlemen, what
are your own names?

Cuthbert, guide my hands
to their foreheads.

Let them go.

But have them followed.

They might lead us somewhere.

We are not dealing with a
normal criminal, Albert.

We should have to abandon
all normal police procedure.

The astral child who represents
existence itself is dying.

I shall continue my inquiries
on the astral plane.

Who is there?

Is there someone there?

I am here.

Are you an evil spirit?

Don't use gesticular
language with me, please.

I am blind.

Are you a guide?

Yes.

So is there a new presence?

Yes.

On this and every play.

He's closing things down.

Who is he?

No one knows.

Where is the astral child
who represents existence?

In the sewer.

He has put her there.

Where is he?

In Edmonton.

He's here and everywhere.

He's closing things down.

His victims will
lead you to him.

And the astral child.

And the gate.

As we speak, they are
passing my earthly form.

Leave now.

Soon, the astral plane
will be downsized.

Search him in the spirit spaces.

I will.

Where am I?

We're going shopping.

We're going shopping and
then we're going to the bank.

You like our little shopping
trips, don't you, Mr. Brown?

No, I don't.

Go on in for your fags.

What?

Your fags, Mr. Brown.

You short again, Mr. Brown?

What?

We'll have to go to the bank.

Bank?

Your 40 pence short!

I'll buy you fags.

And you can pay me back
when we get to the bank.

What?

Stay here.

I'm not going anywhere
in a hurry, am I?

Where am I?

Why aren't we home yet?

Truck turned over
at [inaudible].

[distant gunfire, explosions]

And a casino.

We had that Rommel,
the Desert Fox.

Nurse.

Two sons.

Never got to see them.

You were born in a house with a
stream at bottom of the garden.

I want to be young again.

I want to wipe it all out.

Are you there?

Yes.

Am I home yet?

Yes, you're home.

Home already?

Oh, good.

Right, I've got
your fags, Mr. Brown.

Now, then.

We're going to go to the bank.

Leading bank.

Less of that.

[inaudible].

[inaudible] the bus stop.

Nurse, [inaudible].

Mr. Brown, we're in the bank!

Well everyone needs
a shag in the morning!

I need a shag in the morning!

Nurse.

You need a man with experience.

Not one of them young fellers
crawling all over you.

You need a man whose
got experience.

Sorry about this.

It's worse than normal.

Be quiet or you
won't get any dinner.

Better feed me properly.

Poison.

[coughs]

I should have married
that Mable Louis.

Instead I settled
for that bitch.

That well poisoner.

She stole my golf clubs.

It's the kind of woman she was.

She'll steal your golf clubs
as soon as you say jack.

One day soon, you'll
all be like me.

Pushed around, drenched
in your own piss.

Right.

Let's get your money.

I want a money transfer order
for the country's entire assets

to the account of
Mr. Albert Brown.

I'll just phone
for authorization.

[phone rings]

Jeff Plow.

[HIGH PITCHED LAYERED HARMONIC
VOICE] Yes, sir.

It rang, sir.

[inaudible]
- Yes.

The transaction is authorized.

[ominous music playing]

Willis reporting a
haunting peacock soliloquy.

So, has officer Willis
been following the victims?

It may be our only hope.

Yes, as far as Hyde Park.

But--

But?

His last radio report stated
that the vector is snake-like,

but--

Determined, like
a vehicular vector.

[non-english]

[non-english] This is not
Officer Willis' habitual

vernacular, sir.

I'm afraid that even
Willis has become insane.

He's lost them?

I fear so, sir.

Cuthbert.

Do you think that everything
that happens is inevitable?

Yes.

Oh.

What do we do?

Crawl in the dust.

Grovel and beg.

Weep tears and cry out.

I've never known you
give up so easily, sir.

Get the Ouija board.

Good day, sir.

Can I ask you what you're doing.

I'm returning to Japan.

I have had enough.

By which route?

Below in the
lake, there's a pipe

that goes by Sloane
Square, under Russia,

all the way to Japan.

Japan.

As a young man, I swam
the pipe from Komatsu.

Kom-- what?

Komatsu.

Komatsu.

Maybe I'm too old
for the journey.

My flesh is old.

But my spirit is young.

That next time I
see the sun, it will

shine over the Caspian Sea.

Where the sturgeons swim.

Do you want to come?

The Caspian Sea?

When I was in
[inaudible] before the war.

I saw a man who
played the cimbalom.

And he had a performing chicken.

He made just enough to live on.

And his wife was
very, very beautiful.

Thank you, rabbi, for
that illuminating story.

For those of you who
have just tuned in,

this is an emergency
debate on the unusual state

of the nation.

News just in, the stock
market has imploded.

A massive amount of money
was withdrawn from one bank,

causing everyone to
call in that debt.

Soon, it transpired
that everyone

owed everybody else money.

And no one actually
had any themselves.

And further developments
on the Tube.

It appears that the
underground system is to be

renamed the underworld system.

And will be used exclusively
to ferry the dead to the valley

of the last judgment.

Now over to Westminster Palace.

Once again, I'll
make it quite clear.

We have checks and balances,
balances and checks in place

to prevent this kind of thing.

There is no chance
that I or my superiors

would authorize the transfer
of the nation's assets

to any unauthorized account.

Hang on, we got a weirdo.

But excuse me.

So is this interview finished?

Spirits.

Spirits of the dark.

Are you there?

Knock once if you are there.

[single knock]

Good.

Cup of tea?

Go away!

The circle is broken, we
shall have to try again.

Spirit's, answer.

Astral child, are you there?

[single knock]

That is not the astral child.

It's an interfering spirit.

Spirit, what is your own.

N, O-- get this
down, Cuthbert.

It stopped.

Spirit, spirit.

What is your name?

N, O--

No, no.

Is no your name?

Y, E, S.

Are you a mischievous
spirit, a joker?

I want to speak to
the astral child.

N, O.

[sinister music playing]

WOMAN: Hark, the animals come,
one by one, pair by pair.

Antelope, oxen, llama, and hare.

Mule, moon.

Low and bark to the ark.

Brown brick monoliths by
Talgarth Road in Hammersmith.

Knowing patriarch awaits them
there, pair by pair and one

by one, he strings them
up from after the fall.

No.

The animals hanging there,
antelope, oxen, llama and hare.

What have we got?

Highjacker, whole,
na-na-na, ge-heh-nom.

N, B, N, B, we will
drag our corpses--

pff-- derd-- and hang
them above our souls--

Kirker Han-- by the M-25.

To the question where have
you put the astral child who

represents existence,
he answered,

in the sewer where she belongs.

Cuthbert, we are going
to need a bigger circle.

Get the T-raiders.

We are joined
by Janice Whaley,

Abel Malarkey, and
Rabbi Moses Golum

to comment on the situation.

Janice.

One of the experts are now
saying that the pound now

actually has a negative value.

I mean to say if you pay
someone now in Sterling,

they actually owe you money.

And what's more,
money with interest.

What-- what-- what actually
implications does this have?

What is happening
to the country?

Abel?

Why, why why, why,
why must we have

this passive, passive sense.

What is happening
to our country?

What is happening
to our country?

What is lacking is a sense
of moral responsibility.

The question should be what
are we doing to our country.

[electronic music playing]

[car alarms going off]

[explosion]

It's the M-25, sir.

Northwest.

This is the sign, Cuthbert.

Get the car.

I think we should pass for
a more humanist point of view

over to the rabbi.

Well, it's the
question of choices.

Do you simmer with
dumplings in the hot water,

and then transfer them
to the chicken broth.

Or do simmer them in the chicken
broth in the first place.

Now, you may think this is
a sort of academic question.

But no.

Because you then have to
choose between the flavor

on the one hand and the
disintegration on the other.

And that is a microcosm of--

I mean, there must
be-- we must be able

to pin the blame somewhere.

Where do we start?

In the case of the
school mutiny and fire,

I think it's quite obvious
that the responsibility lies

with the children themselves.

No, no, no, no, no, Abel.

That bears no
relation to reality.

I am the mother of
two children and I

never let them out of my sight.

Never out of my sight.

They are not allowed to watch
television or go to school.

Consequently, they will, I
assure you, grow up with high--

I say high-- moral standards.

It's the parents and
teachers who are to blame.

But today's events defy
explanation, don't they?

Well, if they
defy explanation,

what are we doing here?

I often wonder.

But the country seems gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped by what, Ivul?

Gr-gr-gr-gripped.

gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gr-gr-gr-gr- gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gr-- gr-- gr-- gr-- gr--

gr-- gr-- gr-- gr-- gr-- gr--

gr-- gr-- gr--

gr-- gr-- gr-- gr--

gr-- Gripped.

Gripped.
Gripped.

Gripped.

Gripped.

Gr-- gr-- gr--
gr-- gr-- gr-- gr--

gripped by mass psychosis!

This is nonsense.

It's utter nonsense.

Once again, we attribute guilt
to a spurious collective,

rather than to
individual culprits.

Abel--

Please, don't interrupt me.

If I may, Abel--

No.

If you would let me finish--

No, no, let me finish, please.

Tell me-- um, get
back to the point.

No one seems to be
making any sense anymore.

Even the police seem to have
brains of truncheon meat.

Our society is vapid,
meaningless, and violent.

Who's to blame?

The children.

With their buggy eyes
and their bulbous bodies.

They're taking over
the nation, them

and their accursed trainers.

Yes, yes, I
couldn't agree more.

I think someone has
to take the blame.

And the finger
has to be pointed.

I'm going to point the
finger at my own offspring.

I agree with that.
Little bastards.

- Yes.
- We could--

Did you hear the man?

Did you hear the nice man?

Did you hear me?

Yes, did you hear him say--

Drag one of them over here and
I'll give him a good seeing to.

Really, Abel, would you?

- Absolutely.
- Would you, Abel?

Absolutely.

I feel obliged to help.

Well, I shall
unchain them shortly.

I shall unchain them shortly.

No, leave them chained.

I prefer it that way.

Well, well, we
could talk forever.

Is there a solution?

Yes.

I have it here.

It's a tuning fork.

I acquired it through the Sunday
Times' recent innovations.

Tuning fork of annihilation?

Broadcast the melodious hum of
this durable stainless steel

tuning fork across the airwaves,
and cause the destruction

of all domestic televisions,
and the death of all children

who hear it.

Well, what will
they think of next?

Should we give
this one a bash?

Why not?

Give it a ting.

[single note]

The BBC would
like to apologize

for the widespread destruction
and loss of infant life.

Faster, Cuthbert, faster.

Let's not take all day.

Yes, inspector.

ANNOUNCER: Do not attempt
to leave the station,

as this is impossible.

The unofficial,
unconfirmed spiritual force

has taken possession of all
London Underground stations.

The next trains arriving
on all platforms

all carrying the souls of the
dead on their final journey

from all the gathering
rooms of the after world.

[violin heavy music playing]

But is there a spiritual
angle to today's events?

Can a religious
spin be put on them?

We have with us Rabbi Moses
Gholam, who died two years ago.

But we're very happy
to say he's been

exhumed for today's broadcast.

Rabbi?

Well, since our
beginnings, we have

been watched over by the gods.

At first by Wotan and the Norns.

And subsequently by
successive generations

of watching deities.

Unfortunately, however,
over the centuries

the quality of the
dead has somewhat

declined, due to relentless
intermarriage until now.

Sadly, we are left with
an inbred half-wit.

His name?

His name?

Dave.

Guess what screen
I'm thinking about.

Screen 437.

No.

326?

No.

224.

How'd you guess that?

Intuition.

That crack in the
pavement's got bigger, Dave.

Mm.

I've always liked them chimneys.

Hey, Dave.

Is that it again?

Oh god.

Oh dear.

[inaudible].

Put a stop to that right away.

I like the interactive
side of this job.

I'm bored.

What's that?

Dave.

It's come to my attention
that you are the most

vacuous being in the universe.

Me?

Really?

That's why you've been
selected for The Great Toss.

What's I-- it's like
I've won something, have I?

Dave, Dave, Dave,
don't try and speak.

It doesn't become you.

Your days of watching are over.

You alone can see everything.

You watch, but totally
confused by what you see.

[CACOPHONY OF NOISES INCREASING
IN INTENSITY]

This is your opportunity
to make everything simple.

Dave, there;s too much
stuff in the world.

And people keep on making
more and more stuff.

They're stuffing the
world with stuff.

Dave, imagine the purity
of a blank screen.

We need to make
everything disappear.

All those voices.

All those things.

All that stuff.

I'm talking about erasure.

The train you are
riding is bound for glory.

You're being taken
to a new land.

Where work is plentiful
and love abounds.

Your lives were empty,
but now they're full.

Now you have joined
us, we are as one.

Brothers, and sisters,
the time has come.

No cars.

No pigeons.

Um.

No legs.

No houses.

No dogs.

It's the beauty of life
without the trappings.

Well, Dave, I think
you've got the idea.

London's a big city.

You have a long
task ahead of you.

Start on the outskirts.

Work your way
towards the center.

No shops.

No parks.

No, um, skirts.

[electronic music playing]

You will not find this peace
in the Book of Revelation.

You will not find this
peace in the Sayangita!

In the book of the
Cloud of the Unknowing!

You will not find this peace in
your personal message machine

that tells you you
must meet someone

8:30 outside your local Odean.

Can you hear me,
can you take this in?

And finally, London
is being erased.

Most of the outskirts,
suburbs, and external zones

have been entirely downsized.

The erasing force is
moving its way inwards,

but the central zones all
still thankfully intact.

Keep medicines out of
the reach of children.

The refugees were found
urinating in container trucks.

Do not drive or
operate machinery.

The man from Del Monte says yes.

[speaking french]
Get into the car.

The manager and his staff
welcome you to Brighton.

But ambassador,
you're spoiling us.

If music be the food
of love, play on.

Hear my prayer, oh, Lord.

Hide not thy face from me
in the day of my distress.

Incline thy ear
unto me, for my days

consumed by a black
smoke My bones

are burned as a firebrand.

And my heart is smitten
like glass, and withered.

And I forget to eat my bread.

Cuthbert, I sense
you seemed troubled.

It's lucky you
can't see, inspector.

Why is it lucky I
can't see, Cuthbert?

No police.

No windows.

Cuthbert.

Cuthbert.

Who are you?

It is I. I will lead you.

Where?

[indistinct gasping]

[interposing yelling]

To have vagina that
smells of the fish of Hades!

I say to you 13--

13-- 13 times it comes!

And 13 times a droplet
of my semen shall

she suck as on my penis,
to redeem herself now!

Yes, yes, you can laugh!

[indistinct yelling]

[music playing]

In half an hour.

You have half an hour
to reconcile yourselves.

With the end of
transmissions, the end of all

signals, the end of data.

Free yourselves from this tiny
minded, 10-finger fascism!

From the despotism
of decimality!

The decimal system is
the numerology numerology

of the devil Translate
your mind into binary.

The zero is the hole!

The woman's hole.

The one is the phallic
creative principle.

Translate before it's too late.

None of you are really there.

Prepare to face zero.

Let this edifice henceforth
be known as Keith's Column!

[music playing]

No doors, no
bricks, no mortar,

no roofs, and no Privet hedge.

Kneel.

Stretch out your hands.

No street lights.

No shops.
No buses.

No grills.
No bollards.

No pavement.

No tarmac.

It was her, and
he did not listen!

He walked on!

He walked by!

[indistinct yelling]

Erotic, NASA filth!
FBI!

CIA!

Engaged in funded chaos!

Ye Germans shall go
to the lake of fire

with their Ginger spice!

They're approaching
the planet!

Approaching the planet now!

We must listen!

He's here for you.

He will open your eyes.

Reach your hand up.

Tell me your name.

No.

Is that your name?

Yes.

So is this the promised end?

Yes.

Could I have prevented this?

No.

[music playing]

We will drag our
corpses and hang them

above our souls by the M-25.

No St Paul's No
Canary Wharf whatsit.

No NatWest tower.

No birdsong.

No sound.

No substance.

No lights.

No Dave.

This is London.