All language subtitles for Rosemary and Thyme - 02x04 - The Invisible Worm.Xvid-DVDRip.English.edit.Addic7ed.com

Told you.

Gloves, you nana.

Now you're going to die of
septicemia and you've never

learn to change the wheel
on the Land Rover.

Isn't there
a test you can do?

Huh?

Isn't there a test
you can do?

Yes there is a test
for sick roses.

It takes forever
to get results.

And all they ever tell
you is that the rose

in question is sick.

Well, we know that already.

This is much more fun, sorting
it out ourselves.

You're a very odd woman.

Yes, I like to think so.

Right.

Now this is the plan.

We cut back.

And when we've ruthlessly cut
back as far as we can without

actually killing it, we cut back
some more until it tells us

what's wrong with it.

Laura, you're not listening.

Oh, this place gives
me the willies.

It's a school.

It's peculiar.

I rather like it.

Not during lessons, boy.

Confiscated.

To whom did he give
thanks, agricolus.

Growse, translate.

Give it your best
shot, growse.

Ag-ri-co-lus.

Astronaut.

Astronaut, sir.

Oh, headmaster.

Morning.

Honey Fungus.

But Eleanor Marshall--

Mrs. Headmaster?

Her-- said the soil was new.

How can soil be new.

It's provenance quote
was impeccable.

The parents paid a great
deal for it.

I was wondering.

Oh, I made you jump.

I'm so sorry.

30 years of sneaking
up on maggots.

You call the boys maggots?

Oh, it's what they
call themselves.

You should hear what
they call us.

Oakley, classics.

Boxer.

Thyme.

Plants.

I was wondering
if you might like to

dine in hall tonight.

Are you speaking to both
of us, Mr. Oakley?

Well, of course, if both you
ladies would consent

to be my guests, I might die
of happiness with

my face in the soup.

- Is the soup good?
- Bloody awful.

But it is the last Saturday of
term, and events can become,

um, well, amusing.

The maggots get to have
their revenge.

First they decide which master
needs to be punished.

Or mistress.

They devise the punishment.

The instructions for it are
placed inside an envelope.

Then during dinner, we totter
out here to see which one of us

has said envelope
in our pigeonhole.

If it's you, it's your duty to punish
the chosen colleague as directed.

This vision of sizzling pulchritude
is, in fact, miss Wells.

Which nobody calls me ever.

They call me Wellie.

I don't.

But then I'm a million
years old.

This is Simon Todd.

Shift, Todd.

So what happens if you
get the envelope?

You become the stag.

Who is he when he's at home?

He's the will of the maggots.

Last year the metal work bloke
was made to pilfer

mrs. Marshall's substantial
knickers from her secret

drawer and festoon them around
the plum tree in the quad.

I mean, a conference
is the thing for the

school in the holidays.

I mean, it's a dead time,
really, for the

school, for the halls.

My husband's discipline
is not academic.

Is that right,
Mrs. Marshall?

He moved here from the treasury
to become headmaster.

He finds the boys an
inconvenience.

I mean, honestly, why the boys can't
get themselves excited

by something a little more creative
I just don't know.

He means scuba diving.

Oh, is the scuba diving
good in Berkshire?

I dive most weekends--

portholes mostly.

Would you excuse me?

Right-o.

If the stag should appear
suddenly in my

absence, sit tight.

You're the school's guest,
and you'll be quite safe.

That's a relief.

Uh, yes.

I was wondering who's
that was.

Another mystery solved without
recourse to violence.

Silly boy, Simon.

Doesn't really know
what he wants.

Professionally?

Out of life.

Sorry.

Thinking aloud.

I have the habit of maternal
interference with

the young staff of either gender.

This sort of nonsense does
the school's profile

absolutely no good at all.

Oh my god.

And that's downright
irresponsible.

I mean, there are fire
regulations.

This is ridiculous.

How do we know when the stag
has done his thing?

I said, how do we know when the
stag has done his thing?

Lights!

Somebody get the lights.

Stop this, stop, stop, lights.

Well, that came from
the changing room.

Where's miss Wells?

No lights.

Got your torch, headmaster?

Yes.

She's over there.

Let me see.

Are you all right?

Show me.

God almighty.
t -I'm going to call the police.

No.

It's quite all right.

Quite all right?

You've just been assaulted.

No.

He-- he was trying
to frighten me.

That's all.

Made me scream.

Who's there?

Get out, Ruddock.

Out.

Mr. Todd.

Good lord.

I'm all right.

I'm all right.

Why do my staff make a fetish
of telling me that it's all

right when...
it isn't.

I just got in his way, the
stag, and fell and clobbered

myself on one of the lockers.

I don't think this is
appropriate, Mr. Todd.

Come with me.

Lord keep us safe this night
and secure from--

Not so fast, you
filthy maggots.

I smell smoke.

Who has got cigarettes
in here?

What do I get, Mr. O?

Detention?

Recitation?

Smacked bottom?

I think, Crispin, the
dormitory is not

the place for you.

God knows.

Orient express job--
they all did it.

Ok.

But what's-his-face in the
orient express was horrible.

And Wellie's a nice
girl, isn't she?

You sat next to her.

Bad men get in a froth
about nice girls.

Come on.

Quentin what's-his-name is--

is a bore.

And Richard Oakley's got
the hots for you.

And that's not a motive.

I think it was a mistake.

I think the stag was supposed to
do something to poor Wellie

and it all went wrong.

Blech.

Those ghastly boys and their
practical jokes.

Oh.

Isn't that the most frightful
thing you've ever seen.

It's a hand.

That is a hand.

It's so disgustingly
realistic.

That's because it's a hand.

Ok.

Now I'm going to be sick.

No you're not.

Move.

If anyone's going to be sick
around here it's me.

Oh, lord.

Don't tell me.

What?

Tell me quickly.

Simon Todd.

Oh, I can't look.

Is he dead?

You very often are when you've
got a bloody

great harpoon
sticking through your chest.

We're trying to locate
the murder weapon, sir.

You say there's only
one such item in

the school, and it's always
under your lock and key.

One... of poseidon
stainless steel, anti-recoil,

harpoon rifle and two
titanium-tipped steel bolts

for your inspection.

Sergeant Honey, you said it.

Oh, good god.

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

Theft.

I mean-- my wife was with
me, do you know?

All night.

We'll have this conversation
in a minute, sir.

In you hop.

Yes, I mean, have you actually
spoken with her?

I have, actually, yes.

Well, what did she say?

In the vehicle, please,
Mr. Marshall.

All right, come on, boys.

Everybody inside now.

Ladies, what a business.

I wonder what the
police will ask.

They'll ask him if he knows
who was the stag.

That's important, is it?

Assaults?

Murder?

On the same night?

Are they connected?

That's what I would
want to know.

It is what I want to know.

Common room?

Five minutes?

Do you mind?

It was me.

It was you?

The stag.

Yes, it's a bit of a
surprise to me too.

Just a minute, are you saying
you assaulted Wellie?

Yes.

I did.

I'm--

Forgive me.

The instruction was
in my envelope.

Remove Mrs. Wells' bra, or
perish in the attempt.

Do you have that note?

Uh, I burned it.

What about the stag stuff?

The mask?

The cloak?

Burned it.

Burned it all.

I just don't believe you're a
batterer of women, Richard.

Well, it's not an activity in
which I routinely indulge.

So then why didn't you stop?

You could see that
she was upset.

I was drunk.

That's an explanation,
not an excuse.

And then you smacked Simon
Todd's head on the locker.

Well, he tried to stop
me from leaving.

I did not wish to be stopped.

The school is in for a
substantial day of some bad

press, Eleanor.

If it's acceptable to you, I
shall teach my final classes

and, well, resign.

Did you kill Todd?

I did not.

I think I'd have noticed
if I had.

I don't suppose Quentin did
either, though it won't do him

any harm to be
unceremoniously

browbeaten
himself for a change.

But surely your husband
is innocent.

He bloody well is not.

I'm crying because
Simon is dead.

Last night when he was hurt, I
took Simon to the pavilion

to try and talk some
sense into him.

But I was aware--

I don't know how--

but someone was watching us.

I think it was Quentin.

I think he saw what he saw
and he misinterpreted it.

He got in a rage--

God, he can get in a rage--

went and got his horrid
little harpoon gun,

and he killed Simon.

Pavilion, like cricket
pavilion?

What?

Hello.

I'm Rosemary Boxer, gardener.

Oh, you must be Eleanor's son?

Put that out, will
you, Crispin?

It's making my eyes water.

It's a shame.

Excuse me?

Your mother's just had
a bit of a shock.

She's not my mother.

But you're excused,
Rosemary Boxer.

So, what's the story
with the Marshalls?

Well, I don't suppose they've
had what my dear, old nanny

used to call cardinal
relations for years.

Quentin's got a son by his
first marriage, Crispin.

He's up at Cambridge, though
he spends far too much time

wandering about here
for my liking.

Poisonous boy, frankly.

Listen, this is all
very stimulating.

But why don't you tell me what
you really want to know?

Ask and ye might be told.

What's the story with
you and Wellie?

Are you an item?

You've made an old
man very happy.

She blew her nose on
your handkerchief.

Oh, crikey--

definitely cardinal relations.

Look, for reasons
that I don't feel presently obliged

to explain, I have
fallen on my rusty sword.

But I still can apologize
like a gentleman.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have, um, packing.

Why is Richard lying to us?

Do you think he's having a
ding-dong with Wellie?

He says not.

I mean, I don't believe
he was the stag.

Well, what's the point in
telling us that he was?

I mean, career down the tubes,
reputation shot to pieces--

I mean, that's daft.

These look better.

No, they don't.

No, they don't actually.

What's wrong with them?

Vigorously pruned--

the damned things are
sicker than ever.

There's no point in expanding
the bed if they're going

to conk out next week.

Have you seen a cricket
pavilion?

In my life or here?

In the grounds.

Oh yes, it's sort
of that way--

I wanted to apologize for that

unpleasantness with my stepson.

He was upset about his father.

He wanted reassurance.

I, um, didn't, of course, say to
him what I'd inadvertently

said to you, the business
about Simon.

Good.

I've just heard that my husband
will be returned to us later today.

The police have indicated they
will not be pressing charges.

That's good news.

Look, the sooner we sort out
these roses, the sooner we can

get out of your hair.

Um, can you tell us exactly
where this soil came from?

Exactly?

I don't know.

Simon dealt with it.

He liked to be sent
little tasks.

He liked to please people.

Maybe there's a receipt.

Maybe we should have a shifting
around his room?

No.

Absolutely not.

Is that clear?

Simon Todd
had a lot of stuff,

didn't he?

Oh, this is pants.

When was the last time you
bought soil and got a receipt?

Are you looking for
information about soil?

No.

Neither am I. Ah, what's this?

Oh, it's a diary.

Was cheating in class today.

He knew, I knew, earned
his respect

by turning a blind eye.

Oh lord, sad life." What
are you doing that for?

The poor bloke's dead.

Well, you wouldn't
want someone reading

your diary when
you were dead,

would you?
I would.

That's the whole point.

Blimey.

What?

It's a receipt.

For soil.

Would it be possible for you ladies
to make a little more noise?

Listen girls, this pathetic
little school is my Inheritance.

And I want it delivered to
me in good condition.

Well, I don't reckon you
as a headmaster, matey.

Neither do I. I see myself as
someone who does not very much

at all, because he's made a
hilarious amount of money

selling a substantial
property... counties.

You'd flog the school?

I would.

I like money.

Enough to frame your father?

My dear, if I was moved to
frame someone, they'd be

thoroughly framed.

My father's been given
the all-clear.

Then who do you think
killed Simon?

Uh, who cares?

Getting himself murdered was
quite the most interesting thing

that dreary boy ever did.

It's been fascinating, but I
mustn't let you keep me.

Nighty night.

We're not going to let
that little sot stay in there

and fiddle with...

No, we are not.

We're going to set off
the fire alarm.

He'll ignore it.

You try.

Wait, wait.

My guess is, you're breaking,
uh, five different rules?

Well, good for you.

Expect you'll get a medal.

What's your christian
name, Ruddock?

What does your mother
call you?

Sweetie pie.

Right.

Well, that's nice.

Well, shall we call
you Ruddock?

Mm.

We think you've got
something to say.

But you don't quite know who
to say it to, pet, do you?

Say to us, if you can.

We won't bite.

Oops.

Can't help it.

Why did you want us
to come down here?

Was it something you saw?

Shall I just ask you questions,
and then you can nod

or shake your head?

Were you hiding down here the
night the stag came out?

Did you see Mr. Todd?

Did you see the stag
hit Mr. Todd?

Was it someone else?

It was Mr. Todd.

He did it to himself.

He came out of there.

And he did this horrible scream,
like our dog when

it got hit by a car.

And he went to the lockers
and went bang, bang,

bang with his head.

And there was blood and
everything all over his face.

Oh, there, there.

Manager.

You say that because
of the blazer.

The blazer and the hair.

They always have that hair.

And they always do
that with it.

Come on.

I say, hello.

Are you the duty manager?

Ladies.

Uh, I wonder if you could help
us please-- uh, soil.

You want some soil?

No.

We've got the soil.

I want you to tell us
a bit about it.

Just a minute.

Ya, Crispy.

What a funny place
to find you.

You're very easily amused,
miss Boxer.

No, I'm not Boxer.

I'm the other one.

What are you reading at
Cambridge, waste management?

Well, look at that.

That's lovely, that is.

Minerals, a bit of flint
in there, see.

Roses like flint.

I--

I remember that bloke coming
from the school.

He specifically asked for soil
that had been good for roses.

Stop.

Had been?

I said all this soil, young
man, comes from the

rose terraces of Hardwick cole.

People used to pay good money to
view those gardens, before

the family went bust.

But if soil has already had
roses living in it,

you can't use it again.

It'll poison the new growth.

And if you're starting from
scratch, you've got to use

soil that hasn't even had
a sniff of a rose.

Don't you know that?

You saying I done a blunder?

On the contrary,
you lovely man.

Bit more.

Bit more.

There.

Big bed.

Oh, yes, well it can wear it.

Trust me.

I rarely do anything else.

All those things in Crispin's
trolley, all

that plumbing stuff--

two plungers, five brands of
sink trap unblocker,

five different products that
all do exactly the same thing.

Well, perhaps Crispin's trap
is particularly blocked.

That, or he was trying to
distract attention from what

he'd actually gone
there to buy.

What are you planning?

A sexy rexy, peekaboo,
jacqueline du pre, and rambling rector.

I meant colors.

White and gold, the
school colors--

With a dash of pink to
cheer it up a bit.

Hello.

Hello, Wellie.

Uh, sorry.

But I just have to say this--

you mustn't let them get
rid of Richard Oakley.

It's ridiculous.

He's everything that's good
about this place.

But Richard wants to go.

No, he doesn't.

If he leaves Stagford, it'd be like
unplugging him from the mains.

He'd go dead.

You have to explain
to the Marshalls.

Yeah, but we're not governors
here, Wellie.

We're gardeners.

But you can talk to
the Marshalls.

I can't.

I know they're difficult
people, but I mean--

No.

I can't talk to them.

They won't let me.

You do know, don't you, that
I'm not leaving this place

until I've had a squint at
this ruddy pavilion?

It's locked.

Luckily, I brought a key.

No, Rosemary, you
can't do that.

Yes I can.

No, no you can't.

Look, you're doing
it all wrong.

Give it to me.

The first thing you learn at Hendon
is to get the right tool for the job.

And if you haven't got the right
tool, then you approach

the situation with patience,
calm, and caution.

Oh, bloody hell.

Hard to imagine Eleanor
consoling Simon in here.

What's that awful smell?

Oh, that's that stuff
that you um--

oh, you put it on bats.

Not, not, not flappy
bats, cricket bats.

Linseed.

That's not linseed.

Laura?

My feet are sticking
to the floor.

We're going to need
that spade.

We've got a bit of
digging to do.

Let's get working.

Who's there?

Listen, guys, stags is over.

Mr. Todd has been killed.

This isn't funny, ok?

I'm opening the door
now, guys.

I'm sorry.

I just needed to hear
you scream.

Simon told me that
he loved me.

He'd always loved me.

Was this before or after
he roughed you up

in the changing room?

During.

It seems that I had been failing
to read the signals

since, oh, ever since I came
here, really, three years ago.

Every time he held a door open
for me or passed me a biscuit

it was an overture, no, a
declaration of devotion from

someone quite unable to speak
the language of love.

I, of course, was completely ignorant
and therefore failed to respond.

Every time I declined
the biscuit, it was

a slap in the face.

The shame of rejection
built up and up.

He couldn't communicate with
me except by hurting me.

And when he realized what he'd
done, well, you heard him--

that awful scream.

It's just so sad.

Come.

You've got a secret, Richard,
and I think I know what it is.

If I took a knife and carved a
bit off you, it would be like

a stick of rock, printed
all the way through--

honor, duty, service.

What possessed you to betray
everything that you are?

Why throw it all away
by saying you

attacked a young woman?

I did it for the school.

There's an enchantment that lies
all over Stagford lodge.

And Quentin has set himself
against it.

He's determined to extinguish
every curiosity--

every fabulous
piece of nonsense

that contributes to
the...

The poor boys are under so much
pressure to be serious

that no one dared set
the stag a task.

Without the task, there
is no stag.

So I wrote one myself, to keep
him alive, put it in my own

pigeonhole--

a last stand for oddity
and silliness.

Pathetic really.

And then when I-- when I went
looking for the stag's robes,

they were gone.

And when I realized that
Simon had put them...

On, I thought, good.

Good god.

Good for you.

But of course, Simon
was on a mission.

He wanted to declare
his love to Wellie.

And when that declaration went
all wrong and Wellie behaved

so bravely about it, I thought,
oh, damn it all--

you two have got the right
stuff after all.

They are the future.

I am the past.

But the enchantment
will continue.

You sacrificed yourself
for them.

What happened to
the stag stuff?

Would Simon have destroyed it?

No, I'm perfectly certain
he didn't, though

I can't find it.

But I'm sure it's floating
about here somewhere.

It wasn't me.

It wasn't me either.

What the devil is
going on here?

Fix the roses.

Get the hell out.

Exactly.

Not a comfortable working
environment.

Too many harpoons.

Gentlemen, this is the last class

that I shall teach at Stagford lodge.

However, it would be a mistake
to suppose that I might

slacken out of any sense
of misplaced sentimentality.

Now this, so I am told, is
called a dvd player.

I trust you maggots know how
to operate it, because

I certainly don't.

Growse.

What is it?

Gladiator.

Not for me, gentlemen,
not for me.

Ruddock, you are in charge.

Me, sir?

Yes, you sir.

Right.

There.

Now, you're going in here
whether you like it or not.

Told you it would look good.

If you want to change the order
again, I'm afraid

I'm going to have
to kill you.

Oh, here he comes.

Anything new?

Nope.

The moment you see anybody set
foot in that pavilion--

Uh, we will.

Even a child?

We'll come and tell you.

Promise?

Promise.

I had my fingers crossed behind
my back when I said that.

So did I.

Growse, out now.

As for the rest of you wretched
maggots, my god.

I shall miss you.

Oh, I don't know.

You don't know what?

I don't know if I can keep
re-digging this bed

just on the off chance--

No off chance.

Look.

Come on.

Maybe my fingers weren't
so crossed.

I'm going to go and
get Richard.

No you're not.

I'm not going in there
on my own.

And we've got to do this
now or it's pointless.

Snap.

Only, of course, this one
has a harpoon gun in it.

What the hell are you
talking about?

Isn't that what you're
looking for?

It's none of your bloody
business what

I was looking for.

I was looking for this.

First plumbing, then pruning.

There's nothing he can't turn
his hand to, you know?

Only of course, he's going to
be careful where he treads,

because some idiot has been
repainting the floors--

to cover up where they
put the murder weapon.

Not very bright.

The police would rumble that
in about six seconds.

No, no.

He's obviously realized he's got
to dispose of it more thoroughly.

No, he's too stupid.

His stepmother had to
tell him to do it.

Didn't you, Eleanor?

What a bore you women
are proving to be.

We were inclined to think
you two hated each other.

If you showed any real interest
in people other than yourselves,

you'd realize
that Crispin adores me.

Don't you?

He's a good boy.

I tell him what to do and
I look after him.

What about Simon Todd?

You said you were in
love with him.

But he wasn't in love
with you, was he?

It all came to a head the
night of the stag.

That's when everything
went horribly wrong.

You asked him here, didn't
you Eleanor, thinking you

would capitalize on
the situation?

But Simon didn't want you.

The crisis had released
his tongue.

And Simon told you, in no
uncertain terms, that Wellie

was the woman that he loved.

Not you.

How do you know this?

Simon wrote it all
down in his diary.

It's all in here, as you
knew it would be.

That's why you warned us off
searching his room and

sent Crispin in to do it.

Fortunately, I'd removed
this first.

You wanted to erase all trace
of the outrage, the insult.

Defeat was unthinkable.

That silly little girl wasn't
going to get him.

No, you'd sooner destroy Simon
than give him up to her.

Have I missed anything?

So Crispin was wheeled in
to cover up the tracks.

She's the killer.

His job was to fire another
harpoon at his step-mother

to make her look like a victim and
then get rid of the gun.

Your big mistake, Crispin,
was being so unkind

to your father.

Putting a sausage on a fork,
you should be ashamed of yourself.

He was trying to protect you.

I don't want to go to
prison, Eleanor.

Neither of us want
to do that.

She's got something in my
back, a carving knife.

Don't be silly.

Where would I find a
carving knife here?

It's a screwdriver.

She's bluffing.

No, she's not.

A double-act from
start to finish.

I don't think so.

Difficult one, isn't it?

If you'd be so kind as to open
the door, Richard, Crispin and I

will be on our way.

On the whole, I think we should
leave this sort of thing

to the professionals.

That was a good ...,
Eleanor.

Please don't go, Wellie.

We all want you to stay.

Really?

That's handy because that's
what I'm going to do.

What?

We thought you were leaving.

I was.

Changed my mind.

That's how girls are, Ambrose.

Ruddock.

Bit of a rumor flying around
about you, though.

So, conversational
gambit, so.

I like it.

I could do better.

Guess who's just been
bending my ear?

Mrs. Ruddock.

Oh, she loves the roses,
by the way.

They all do.

Isn't it right, she said, that
her son has been made prefect?

It is.

And is it also right that
Quentin Marshall has resigned?

It is.

Quentin is selling
me the school.

Well, 30 years of salary and
nothing to spend it on.

You're going to
be headmaster?

Well, I'll caretake until a suitable
appointment can be made, yes.

How long will that be?

'Til they bury me.

Although, I don't suppose
death will stop me from

interfering with the life
of the school.

You'll make a very
nice ghost.

Well, that's quite the most charming
thing anyone's ever said to me.

A bit odd, but quite charming.

It's not a bad life, you know?

What isn't?

Headmaster's wife.

But not for everyone.

Safe journey.

You did good work here.

Thank you.

Come back and see us again
next year for dinner.

We'll make some mischief.

unCapsLocked :) by 7kozlov
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