Original subtitles

We are trapped-- trapped in this [INAUDIBLE].

SAMAD (VOICEOVER): I have had a sign, Archie.

I have decided to send my son, Magid, back to Bangladesh.

Crikey.

ARCHIE (VOICEOVER): What did Alsie say to your plan, then?

You haven't told her, have you?

You two faced bastard.

Too much history.

You're going to thank me in the end.

This country is tearing us apart.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

AMBROSIA: Two fours is eight.

Three fours is 12.

Four fours is 16.

Five fours is 20.

Six fours is 22.

Seven fours is 30.

Eight fours is 32.

Nine fours is 34.

Ten fours is 40.

Eleven fours is 44.

[EXCLAIMS]

I don't never get to finish my times table.

Enough maths for today, Ambrosia, my dear.

Time for the calisthenics, I think.

[SIGHS]

For defensive.

Hold it up nice and straight.

That's it.

Late cut.

Roll the wrists.

Hit down.

Good.

What is I learn all these things for, Sir Edmund?

British education, my dear, is the envy of the world.

Oh.

[BELL RINGS]

What's in that diary?

Give it back!

Yo, right here.

Oy!

Come on.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Over here.

No.

Hey!

What is this?

This is my sister at all times under my protection.

We know that.

Millat, you know, we was just having a laugh with her diary,

man.

Respect, Tifan.

OK, Irie, I've been looking for you.

Here.

I need a quarter for some girls in me history class.

No problem.

What's in that diary, anyway?

Nothing.

Writing about me, eh?

Listen, you want to see "Terminator 2" tonight?

It's on at the Odeon.

Yeah.

See tonight is a bit awkward.

Have you met Karina?

[SIREN]

Baby?

I thought you was going out with Millat.

Irie, what's wrong?

Nothing except that I'm ugly and I'm fat

and I'm short sighted and my stupid hair is all frizzy.

And I'm in love with a moron who thinks I'm his sister.

Apart from that, nothing is wrong at all.

Oh, baby.

You is beautiful.

You don't know that?

No.

Right.

I'd like to call this first PTA meeting of the term to order.

Well, as some of you know, at the last Governor's meeting

we had to field complaints about the use of cannabis

on school premises.

Cannabis?

What sort of parents are these that let their children use

drugs at our school.

Yes, well I'm leaving that question aside for the moment.

The governors have asked for a bit of a crack down.

Oh, dear, oh dear.

Don't they realize this is 1992.

It's bad enough having to fill the poor kids'

heads with all that crap about Jesus and Mohammad.

Yes.

Well, be that as it may.

Whatever action you deem appropriate, headmaster,

you can count on Archie and myself.

We are all military men.

Cannabis, Archie.

Cannabis.

Well, my Irie is far too sensible to get

mixed up in anything like that.

Yes.

And I thank god even Millat is incapable of such depravity.

But we must reach out to those children who have not

had the kind of moral guidance that we

have provided for our families.

On the other hand, it does wonders for your arthritis.

Apparently.

[SEWING MACHINE BUZZES]

Good evening.

I've had a pleasant time at the PTA meeting.

I'm now going to bed.

[SEWING MACHINE BUZZES]

Good night.

[SEWING MACHINE BUZZES]

I want it straight.

Straight, straight, straight.

And long and sleek and fixable, please.

And blonde. I want it blonde.

Mm-mm. Mm-mm.

[INAUDIBLE]

You wash this recently?

Girl, you crazy.

We can't put chemicals on this.

Go home and come back two weeks time.

Two weeks?

I can't wait two weeks.

Please.

[WHISTLES]

Josh.

Wow, Irie.

What happened to you?

Shut up, Malfen.

Where is Millat?

Oh, if I tell you, will you go with me?

No.

Will you think about it?

No.

Will you let me show you where he is?

OK.

But that's all.

And it doesn't mean shit, OK?

We're not together, OK, Malfen?

You just show me where Millat is.

Hi, Millat.

Jesus Christ, Irie.

What have you done?

It's just a hair cut.

What's the big deal?

That's not your hair, for fucks sake!

That's some poor, oppressed Pakistani woman who

needs the cash for her kids.

You had beautiful hair, man.

All curly and wild.

You know, it was wicked, Irie.

And it was yours.

Is that a joint?

Here.

For the history girls.

Are those drugs?

Can I have some?

Who the fuck is this?

No one.

Malfen.

Josh Malfen.

You know, I'm in your class.

You OK, Irie?

[WHISTLES BLOWING]

You three are busted.

OK.

I've had a little chat with your parents.

And since your parents are stalwarts of the Parent Teacher

Association, we are all in agreement that this is

definitely an internal matter.

Now, as for the punishment, Josh's parents have

put up an interesting proposal.

Since your A levels are coming around,

they've offered to have you both over after school

to join Josh for some intensive revision groups.

No way, man.

Josh's father is an eminent geneticist, as you may know,

and his mother is a bestselling author, so the two of you

are certainly going to get plenty out of it.

Why all the long faces?

I think this solution is very much in the Flecker Glenard

tradition.

I'm sure our noble, old founder would have approved.

Education in the widest sense.

People helping people in an intensely personal way.

Well, in point of fact, latest historical research suggests

that Sir Edmund Flecker Glenard was little more

than a corrupt imperliast--

Thank you.

Thank you, Josh.

[RINGS BELL]

My, what wonderful breasts.

Marcus Malfen.

Don't worry about Marcus, he's a bit of an old latch,

but he's harmless.

Yes.

Come.

[OPERA PLAYING]

I bet we'll Joyce in her garden.

Joyce?

Oh, so you're Josh's bird cry.

Gosh, you both look so exotic.

Where are you from?

Wilstone.

[LAUGHS]

Chill out, people.

It wasn't that funny.

God, he's gorgeous isn't he?

Are you and he--

-No. -Just as well.

His parents have probably already

got something arranged for him.

I used to like the troublemakers when I was your age,

but you're much better off with someone like Josh.

You really are.

He's been talking about you all week.

For god's sake, Joyce.

Anyway, we are so excited about you being here.

You're both obviously very bright,

I can tell by looking at your eyes.

Josh, your mother is saying that the IQ expresses itself

in the secondary physical characteristics of eye

color and shape, et cetera.

Do you have any sensible repost to that proposition?

Oh, don't be so Malfenist, Marcus.

Sorry, I'm going to have to stop you there.

I'm afraid Malfenism either is or isn't.

It cannot be qualified.

[LAUGHS] -Touche.

Touche.

All right.

Let's go to work.

There's a quite pain in the girl.

A missing father figure, perhaps.

But in Millat I sense a gaping wound.

Raw hole that needs filling to the very brim.

With?

Education.

[HIP HOP PLAYING]

That's my towel!

Here you go then.

Millat!

MILLAT: What?

I'm trying my best to run a godly house.

I will not have naked women running around in towels.

Oh, get off my back, you old hypocrite.

Hypocrite?

I'm no bloody hypocrite.

I pray five times a day.

Look at you.

You're pissed again.

I'm more of a Muslim than you are.

You are no bloody Muslim!

What do you know of your father's faith?

What do you know of your country?

What do you know of any bloody thing?

Nothing because I got stuck in his dump

while my big brother got a first class ticket out of here!

I should have sent you back to Bangladesh in a crate.

MILLAT: I wish you had.

[HORN HONKS]

Hi, Mr. Iqbal.

I come to ask your advice, Irie.

You know Millat better than anyone.

What can I do?

How does one get through?

All I ever wanted was two good Muslim boys.

Is that too much to ask for?

[SIGH]

I always meant to go back, you know.

I mean, who would want to stay?

Cold, wet, and miserable.

Rotten food, awful newspapers.

A place where you are never welcomed, only tolerated.

Then suddenly years pass and you cannot return.

Your children are strangers and you belong nowhere.

Do you understand, child?

Yeah.

Take care.

Listen, Alsie, if you're upset about it,

why not talk to somebody about the whole thing?

Hm?

May be time to open a line of communication, you know?

I never-- I've sworn I'll never talk

to him until Magid returns.

Well, at least he's getting a proper education.

You know, in the old ways-- Magid.

And I think poor Samad's been punished enough.

A man that sends his son to Bangladesh?

Huh?

Most ridiculous, upset, dangerous country

in the whole damn world?

Every year the cyclones.

Every year under water.

Generations just wiped out like clockwork

in hurricanes and mudslides.

And he sends my son there.

No, Clara Jones, I don't think he's been punished enough.

Well, fair enough, I suppose.

My ass it's fair enough.

Alsana, you is one stubborn old mule.

You already gone lose yourself one son.

If you're not careful, you're going

to lose yourself the other one.

Hey, man.

We got your skunk.

[GIRLS LAUGH]

Millat!

[PANTING]

[SOBBING]

Samad?

Samad?

Samad?

Let the boy go, Samad.

When he was born here he was bound to do things differently.

Just let him go.

[LIGHT SWITCH]

[BELL RINGS]

Good morning, Joyce.

Millat?

Hey.

Millat is living here now.

Oh, and Marcus wants to see you upstairs.

Hello, Irie.

What's with the mouse?

It isn't just a mouse, Irie.

That is my life's work.

Oh.

Right-o.

You wanted to see me?

Yes, Irie.

I have a proposition.

My office has been a mess for years

and I need someone I can trust to sort out the filing.

5 pounds an hour as many hours as you want.

Before you decide there are some ground rules.

My work here is top secret.

I really can't discuss it and neither can you.

Why no?

Well, let's just say that we are

talking about the total elimination of disease

in the human species.

You get some idea of what's at stake here.

Not to mention the billions of dollars in primary patents.

So what do you say, hm?

It could prove quite educational.

OK.

Thanks.

[HORN HONKS]

Fuck wit.

[SHATTER]

Hey, Shiva.

Cannabis resin is forbidden to me now, Millat.

This is Brother Moe, Millat.

Hey, Moe.

What's up?

We are the keepers of the eternal and victorious

Islamic nation.

Brother Millat, a war has begun and we need men like you.

Men who can lead.

Men who have respect in our community.

Yeah.

I can see that.

We are under attack from the west.

Everything from the rampant sexuality of the women

to the allure of marijuana.

Right.

Millat, we're going to be late.

Sure, babe.

This is taking a bit longer than I thought.

Listen, I'm with you guys.

I am.

And I'm cool with the suit and the shades.

But the thing is, right, people rely on me.

They need me to be good, old Millat, wicked Millat.

They need me to be cool.

It's practically a responsibility.

I used to be like you once.

I believed in British justice as I swept up

the broken glass from my shop window

while the police laughed in my face.

I believed in British education as I comforted

my weeping daughters after they had been chased home

from school by skinheads.

I was even grateful to the National Health System

when they put me back together again after I'd been beaten

to within an inch of my life.

Here.

Read these.

We'll talk again, Brother Millat.

[HIP HOP ON HEADPHONES]

JOYCE: Millat!

Millat, darling!

Millat.

How much longer is he going to be living here?

Oh, please, Josh.

We've been through all this.

He's a refugee from an oppressive, domestic regime.

You're not going out are you?

You can't.

I've been cooking for you.

I said I'd see Karina.

But I'm making the cauliflower bake.

It's your favorite.

I hate cauliflower bake.

And you mustn't think that I've got anything against Karina

in particular.

It's just I think you could do an awful lot better.

Who gives a shit if he could do better or not.

Yes, all right, Joshua.

You know, you can be very selfish sometimes.

What?

Oh, I see.

I can't speak now?

In my own home.

Oh, don't be so ridiculous, Joshua.

Joshy.

Western youth.

Corrupt.

Decaying and feebled.

Oh, I meant to tell you.

I got a letter the other day from Bangladesh.

Someone called Magid Iqbal.

Oh, yeah.

Millat's twin brother.

I mentioned I was working for you and I wrote to him.

Irie, did I or did I not stress the need for secrecy?

My office at the University gets death threats every week

from animal rights loonies.

If they ever find out my address here--

I'm sorry.

I didn't think.

That's all right.

No harm done this time.

Good god, where did you find that?

That's my great grandfather, Isaac Malfenovsky.

He was Chief Rabbi of Warsaw in the 1870's.

Hm.

That belongs with these journals in the family archive.

Wow.

All this is your family?

Yes.

The Malfens can trace their roots back to Russia

in the Middle Ages.

We were Mithnitzes before we were Malfenovskys.

And something else before that, I expect.

Malfens have always kept on the move,

evolving, improving, After all, if you don't adapt, you die.

JOYCE: Marcus!

I always thought you were so English.

Oh, we are, Irie.

We are.

I want to go to Jamaica.

In my year off I want to go to Jamaica.

What's brought all this up, love?

Some people, right, they know who they are.

They know where they've come from.

They've got roots, you know?

History.

History is nothing but trouble in our family.

And in any case you can forget about Jamaica.

It's way too dangerous.

I'll ask Millat to come with me.

I wouldn't trust [INAUDIBLE] with that one.

Mom, I want to know where I come from.

I need to now who I am, you know.

I need to.

I was told that my mother used to run a pub in Bromley.

But that may not be true.

Is that it?

Nothing but trouble and might have run a pub?

Jesus, don't you know anything?

Haven't you got any idea where I come from?

Don't you care?

Well, it's not up to me, love.

Yes, dad.

Tell me something I don't know.

Mom, I want your permission.

For what?

Hm?

Getting yourself killed with that no good, damn fool boy?

Yes or no.

No.

[LOUD MUSIC PLAYING]

This situation is intolerable.

Our only remaining son and he's living with strangers?

And my Irie may as well be living there too for all

that we see her these days.

Oh, she's just earning some pocket money for her year

off, love.

Well, why the big deal then?

Hm?

Every time I ask her what she's doing she

says she can't tell me.

It's a secret.

Well, the Malfens seem a nice enough family, in my opinion.

We've done without your opinion for 15 years, Archie.

We'll get by without it now.

The man is an idiot, Archie, and obviously a drug user.

He'll get on with Millat then.

But what can we do?

We can't stop him going otherwise the headmaster

is going to expel them.

Oh, for God's sake.

They're just a normal, boring middle class family.

And all they want to do is to help Millat

and Irie with their studies.

It may be no big deal you, Miss Smarty

Pants Lesbian Niece of Shame.

But it is to me, yeah?

I haven't seen Millat in weeks.

Then why don't you just go around and visit him?

I have to go over to strangers now just to see my own son?

After everything I've been through?

It's not enough that Magid is stolen away from me

and send to the other side of the world.

Seven years now with barely so much as birthday card.

Now I must lose Millat, as well.

I mean, what have I ever done to deserve such hell, huh?

OK.

I'm sorry.

Look, do you want me and Max to go around to talk to him?

I thought you would never ask.

Right.

Let's get this over with.

Oh.

[BELL RINGS]

Hi.

Ah, so you must be Millat's cousin--

-Neena. -Neena, yes.

Hello. And Max?

-Maxine. -Maxine.

Yes.

Don't get me wrong.

It's not that I dislike gay women, it's just--

and it's not that I'm offended by it.

Really.

It isn't.

I just don't see the point.

The point?

Yes.

I mean, do you use each other's breasts as pillows?

[CHUCKLES]

Do you know, I've been wanting to ask that myself all evening.

In lots of Indian poetry they talk

about using breasts as pillows.

Downy breasts.

Pillowy breasts.

I'm from Bangladesh.

Of course.

It's totally, utterly, totally, completely nuts.

Well, that settles it.

Something must be done.

I thank Allah that at least one of my sons

is safe in Bangladesh learning the old ways,

safe from the venal influence of a decadent west.

Samad!

If only I could have sent both of them back,

all of these troubles would have been avoided.

Samad!

Archie!

Archie!

Archie!

Videotape from Bangladesh from Magid!.

So what, are we waiting for Millat?

I rang a bit.

He doesn't want to come.

I can't wait to see what Magid looks

like after all these years.

It's not what a person looks like, Clara,

it's the soul that you're about to witness.

The soul of a Muslim and a Bangladeshi.

A soul that has returned to old ways.

Does he still speak English?

Don't worry, Archie.

I will translate.

Mother, Father, welcome to letter from Bangladesh.

I propose to begin with the news that your eldest son has

recently triumphed in a national essay competition

with his composition, "Bangladesh Whither now."

I traveled to Dakar to collect this fine silver goblet

and a small cash prize which I shall put towards my airfare

home to England.

Home?

MAGID (ON TAPE): My prize winning theme was to lament

the tendency of the Bangladeshi to throw

his hands up in the face of history

and blame his misfortunes on fate.

The preposterous superstitions of Allah,

which descend from our dark ages,

do nothing but bind our people in chains.

And it is to the west we must now

turn for true enlightenment.

A point I'm sure my baby brother can well appreciate since he

has been able to enjoy the immense privilege

of a British education--

[TAPE STOPS]

Samad!

[PEOPLE TALKING LOUDLY]

[SINGING KARAOKE]

Oy!

You looking at me?

You looking at me?

You fucking looking at me?

[SHOUTING]

Millat!

And don't come back, you Paki wanker!

You fucking fascists!

Millat!

Millat!

Millat, wait!

Why'd you have to dance like that?

-What? -Sex, right?

Sex is a private thing, right?

Oh, yeah?

Well, how come we did it in the park then?

That's different. That's you and me.

But in there, right, it's like you want them to look at you.

It's like you're prostituting yourself to the male gaze.

Because that's how it works in the west isn't it?

Those fucking leaflets again.

Listen to your language.

Why can't you respect yourself?

Why can't you wear some more clothes?

I do respect myself!

What's the matter with you?

Why can't you just be a lady?

You fucking hypocrite.

You're just like your old man.

You're no better than a whore.

What's gotten in to you.

Who are you?

Irie.

Irie, you're going to be late for school.

Archie.

Millat?

Breakfast, Millat, darling.

Millat?

Marcus!

Joshua!

Joshy!

Josh!

[ECHOING VOICE]

Oh, hi.

I wonder if you're interested in animal rights at all.

I'm Joely and I'm from an organization called

FATE, which stands for Fighting Animal

Torture and Exploitation.

Good.

Jesus, is that you, [INAUDIBLE]?

Hello, Nana.

I've run away.

Praise be!

This much I do know.

My mother that side there, Ambrosia.

She was educated by a fine English gentleman.

A sir no less.

Oh yes, she was educated, all right.

Five times a week.

Why did you do that?

Why?

Girl, it is not required the why's and wherefore's when

an English Christian gentleman wants

to be generous and give you an education,

you just be thankful.

What about your father?

My great grandfather?

No, she never did like to talk about him.

Although I'm sure he was a good Jamaican boy.

Oh, yes!

And he was a great one for the cricket.

I know that much.

Yes.

And he was skilled stone dead in the Jamaican earthquake

of 1907.

Just the very same day I was born.

My mother, she say it was judgment from the Lord.

I don't know why she think that.

It's so sad, you know, that he died the day you were born.

Lord picked me.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

[TELEPHONE RINGS]

Basically what we do is we conduct

a perpetual worldwide terror campaign against all torturers.

That's fantastic.

Obviously that involves all the usual stuff, breaking

into labs, attacking fox hunts.

Um.

Threats to cosmetic firms.

But these things really only work as a way of teaching

the public to respect animals.

Really it's all about education.

It's amazing.

F.A.T.E. Doesn't take anyone who isn't

totally committed to the cause.

Crispin did nine months in Brixton

for torching a pet shop.

Would you do nine months in Brixton, friend?

Let's face it.

What's nine months?

Welcome to the cause.

Samad?

Another letter from Magid.

[DOORBELL]

It's that mad Malfen woman.

Don't open the door.

[DOORBELL]

JOYCE: I know you're in there.

Why don't you do something? SAMAD: What?

Make her go away instead of just

standing there with your flabby gut

hanging over your tiny willy.

JOYCE: Do we have to behave like children?

She won't go away.

She's mad.

[DOORBELL]

JOYCE: What can this possibly achieve?

Even if she does, she'll only come back.

Why doesn't she go away and mess up her own son?

Haven't you seen him?

JOYCE: Whether you like it or not.

I'm involved here.

[DOORBELL]

[DOORBELL]

[DOORBELL]

Mrs. Iqbal, I'm Joyce.

Joyce Malfen.

Mrs. Iqbal, we simply have to-- Millat is missing.

He hasn't come home in the last two nights.

I'm at my wit's end.

All his stuff is gone from his room

and-- I think he may have run away.

He's not at your house?

No.

He's run away?

I fear so.

Thank god for that.

Atta girl.

It was nothing.

SAMAD: Come.

Let's forget the bloody Malfens and see what Magid has to say.

Perhaps he will have come back to his senses at least.

Perhaps, I'm in here.

Welcome to another letter from Bangladesh.

Let me begin with some exciting news.

First, my application to the University of Oxford

has been rewarded with a scholarship

and I have a place to start in the autumn at Corpus Christi.

Oxford?

Scholarship?

All brains in the end.

A triumph.

Ask yourself no longer.

I have found a sponsor, an eminent Englishman

with whom I have recently struck up a correspondence

has sent me the money to return to my homeland

and invited me to work for him over the summer.

For these are plane tickets I have here in my hand.

And although I am, of course, an atheist, nevertheless

I ask you to remember in your prayers

the name of my distinguished benefactor

and future employer, the renowned scientist, Dr. Marcus

Malfen.

Hey.

[INAUDIBLE] This way.

So what are the chances of Crispin going to prison again?

I mean, now that he's got a record and all,

he could go away for years next time, couldn't he?

Yeah.

Everyone starts off wanting to shag Joely.

You get over it.

We all live upstairs, but this is the nerve

center of the operation.

[CLATTER]

Worldwide.

Sorry.

Hi, Joely.

Crispin.

For your information, Comrade, that

is public enemy number one.

The biggest exploiter, tester, and general

fuck around with animals in this whole bastard country.

Even you must have read about his genetically

engineered mouse project fucking doomsday scenario or what.

We know he's operating somewhere in this area.

That's why we moved up from Camberwell.

It's only a matter of time and then--

Boof.

Boof?

Boof.

Brothers, brothers, a war is nigh.

And now is the time for movement.

Deeds and acts.

Let the conflagration begin!

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[MUSIC PLAYING]