All language subtitles for White.Teeth.S01E03_English

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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