All language subtitles for Last of the Summer Wine s01e06 Hail Smiling Morn or Thereabouts.enng

No, wait, wait!
Come back, Mrs Partridge!

It wasn't meant to be rude!

I was just trying to demonstrate
the intensity of me feelings!

You know, if ever one of those came
up in the middle of the North Sea,

there'd be an international
incident to decide who was entitled to stick a flag in it.

Oh, come on, let's go call on Clegg.

Just a moment, just a moment.

I'm studying contrast and tone.

I used to exhibit myself, you know.

You mucky old devil!

In the 14th Field Signals
Regimental Camera Club,

I won the Mrs Colonel Langford OBE
Award for my interpretation

of a soldier's farewell at F 11
in 1/60th of a second.

Of course, the equipment has
improved since those days.

Mine hasn't.

Marvellous what you can
do with a close-up lens.

Well, hurry up and do it
and let's go and get Clegg.

You've no cultural interest at all,
have you?

I've got my ferrets.

Did you never take advantage of the
Army's further-education schemes?

Well, we had this Army film show
once about social diseases.

My mate fainted.

It's all a lot of rhubarb,
this, isn't it? Look at this!

A tacky bit of wood. Who wants to
take a photograph of a lump of wood?

That is a study in texture.

Give over.

I bet that bloke had a
dolly bird sitting on there.

So what? And he clicked his
shutter and she fell off!

You've no idea, no idea at all.

Eh-up.

Eh, look at this 'ere.
"September Morn."

It must have some appeal for you,
you're looking at it close enough.

Well, you can't believe in it, Two
skinny tarts prancing about in fog.

That is not fog, you uncouth
member of the proletariat!

That's mist,
fingers of autumn mist.

That's fog! That is mist!

Moody, atmospheric mist.

And that's a dewy meadow they're
wandering through, not a slag heap.

Their feet must be filthy.
Oh, well, they are now! Eh! Hmm?

It was just a friendly gesture,
Mrs Partridge.

DH Lawrence would
have understood it.

I should hope so. He'd be in trouble
with them Arabs if he didn't.

I wouldn't hurt you for the world,
Mrs Partridge, but you must understand this urge to...

this urge to touch each other
comes from the depths of evolutionary time.

It's not where it comes from,
Mr Wainwright,

it's where it was going
that worried me.

Eh-up! I'm glad to see she's
marking your card again!

Ah, come on now,
be prepared to hold out.

Oh, dear, he's off again.

Now then, nice smile...

Lovely. I'm all in favour of boyish
enthusiasms, it keeps you young.

Where would you be
without Mrs Batty and your ferrets?

The little devil bit me last night.

Not in front of her husband, I hope?

I'm talking about my ferrets!

I didn't think you
meant Mrs Batty somehow.

You know, I must get a light meter.

I should get a heavy one. You'll
pay more, but it'll last longer.

Shall us go in?

Come on in, we'll have coffee.

Ah, just what I fancy.

Two sugars for me.

You know, in the right hands,

the camera
is an instrument of expression.

Eh, give us a fag and I'll pose
for thee in my wellies and garters.

Ooh! Eh, dear!

It's an uphill struggle trying
to educate him. It really is.

Just the same at school.

Fast asleep in every poetry lesson.

Old Fergie would hardly get through
the first line..."I must down to the seas again" when he'd already gone.

I knew Eskimo Nell. Knew her?

You once took her on that coach
trip from the Black Bull. Who?

Her with the big glasses
and always full of beer.

Ah, that were Maureen Hargreaves.
How much could she sup?

I don't know,
I could never afford to find out.

Eh, he has been
out with some rubbish.

Why don't you write your memoirs?

Cos I haven't finished
living them yet!

You must be joking!

Who do you think's going to fancy you
nowadays, apart from Hammer Films?

I do as well as thee.

And it's no use flashing your camera
about, Princess Margaret's not going to come round again.

She'd never get on
with his landlady.

You've got to get somebody that's
compatible, shares your interests.

In my opinion, Cyril, your being
married to Princess Margaret

would have severely restricted your
freedom of movement in places like Francine Jessop's sandpit.

I never went near
Francine Jessop's sandpit.

What's all this lot, any road?

Came across it in the shed. I never
realised you'd been out camping.

We only used it once,
took me months to talk her into it.

I'd just read the Last Of The
Mohicans and I was desperate to practise my woodcraft.

And what did she make of it?

Ah, it was a disaster.
You know how it is?

Few mature married women have
the taste for playing Indians.

Oh, I don't know, I think Nora Batty

would enjoy scalping
him if she could.

Ah-ha! She fancies me.

Well, she disguises it superbly.

Well, she has to,
she's a married woman.

It's all right all this women's lib,

but they're never really
going to be like us, are they?

Not till they've learnt how to
fall in love with railway engines,

postage stamps, ferrets.

Where did you go for
this return to nature?

We had one night in a field
just off the East Lancs Road.

She insisted on maintaining her
lifeline to all public amenities.

There was I thinking in terms
of the uncharted wilderness

and this bloke comes and dumps
an old mattress and the innards of a slot machine.

You do get some heathens about.

Fancy folk doing a thing like that.

You can get good money
for scrap these days.

So much for your concern
for the environment.

It was in prehistoric days,
before insecticides.

There were still flowers about.

A bit sooty, but game.

I picked her this handful
of cowslips and took them back to the tent.

She took one look at them and
burst into tears. She was touched.

She was furious. She came at me
wielding this camper's friend, a combination tool with 100 uses.

What happened? Can't you guess?

She found the 101st!

She were always ugly, then?

Aye. It's over-exposed and the
lighting's terrible. Who took it?

I took it, for better or worse.

And it was never worse
than in that field.

She just didn't look
at home in a field.

She sat there in her best navy coat
and her chapel hat

pining for her draining board.

I pointed out a passing curlew and
a huge tear trickled down her cheek.

She wept all the way home softly,

in-between playing roasting hell
with me for expecting her to eat baked beans with a spoon.

When we got home,
she drank a scalding hot cup of tea and papered a ceiling.

Stealthily!

You're supposed to go like a phantom.

You two are more like a tandem.

I'm trying to capture
the savage struggle for existence that goes on at this level.

I hope you know this is ruining
the crease in my trousers!

You've got about a million creases
in them trousers. How about greenfly? Probably got those as well.

COMPO BLOWS A RASPBERRY
To you!

Do you want to photograph greenfly?

Not really, they're
a bit too listless.

I'd prefer something more
aggressive like a beetle.

Eh-up, he's fearless, this lad!

That's quite enough of you.

Caterpillar. Is it furry?

It's like an Old English Sheepdog.

Ah, now then, that would make an
interesting study.

Don't get too close, it'll have you!
They've got a wicked set of teeth.

Oh, look, do keep out of my light.
Ooh, I can't bear to watch this.

If tha's ever seen anybody mauled
by one of them... Agh!

QUACKING

QUACKING

QUACKING

QUACKING

Why are you always trying to
humiliate me? Ah, it's me hobby.

I shall never forgive you for
being drunk at Grandad's funeral.

Me, why pick on me? The only
poor devil sober was your grandad.

Oh, you liar!

You know my mother doesn't drink.
I know she never buys any.

Oh, very witty! Three pints of ale
and you think you're Jack Benny.

Oh, I just like to have a bit of
fun. Fun? You and your jokes.

Sometimes, I could just bury my
head. Funny you should say that...

Why don't you then, if that's how
you feel about that? Oh, yes...

I just said a couple of jokes...
What jokes? They were filthy!

Hey! Let's have summat wet
for the greater-crested tit here!

ARGUING CONTINUES

Speak up, we can't hear you
in the fourpennies!

Oh, it's you.
Well, come and help yourselves.

You're not paralysed, are you?

There'll be a welcome
in the hillside

There'll be a welcome
in the Dales...

Oh, promises, promises!

Want a cup of tea, Sid? Yeah.

What was she like, Sid,
before thee married her?

Well, she was a bit thinner,
she was just as nasty.

I've no excuse really.
Oh, it were romance, was it?

It was her mother. You never heard
such a fuss, just because I got her daughter drunk.

Said I'd had my way with her
because she was sick on the bus.

Two barley wines. I've been
paying for them ever since.

Serves you right, Sidney,
if you got her drunk for your own evil purposes.

You should rely on judo,
like a gentleman.

You what? All she got from me
that day was a loan of my best hankie. Get off!

I bet he's a raving monster, this
one. No lass'd be safe with him.

At Mablethorpe, where could you go?

Anyway, our Ivy could flatten
all four of us with one hand doing her baking.

Ah! She's a nice lass, is that.

How would you know?

Your own experience has been confined
to the oddest assortment of females outside a women's lib demonstration,

only yours looked like that
before women's lib was invented.

Oh! Ha-ha-ha!

And what about Molly Pepper?

You never got near Molly Pepper.

Oh, tha can think what tha likes.

She wouldn't be seen dead...
She married a university lecturer.

Well, don't hold that against her,
anybody can make a mistake.

Come on, tell us what there was
between you and Molly Pepper.

Sid, let's have a bash at
a currant-y bun!

You see, in a nutshell, she
couldn't resist his silvery tongue.

I knew where she had a mole.

No scruples, you see. He'd even
slander the poor girl's name.

The fact she was Secretary of the
Young Conservatives goes for nothing.

Where did she have a mole?

On her front lawn. I killed it
for her. How old were you then? 12.

I thought we'd make a go of it, but
she were frightened of me ferret.

Oh, I don't know
how you can stand the pace!

Think on, it's your darts
club tonight, remember.

Don't be lifting them
pages all by yourself.

Ivy, Ivy, Ivy.

I owe for a currant-y bun.

Well, bloody pay for it!

We're not on Diners Club here.

I want to speak with you. What?

What do you mean by making coarse
public comments about our love life?

What do you mean, our love life?

I'll not have you broadcasting what
goes on in our bed.

Broadcasting?! You
could get it written on a telegram!

And whose fault is that?
It's not mine, is it?

I give you a nudge regular enough.

Just think, some folk don't
have a wife to care for them.

I'm convinced of one thing,
Mrs Partridge.

It's the real thing this time.
I should hope so, Mr Wainwright,

else we oughtn't to have been doing
what we have been doing in our lunchtime.

You are happy, aren't you, Mrs
Partridge? Oh, yes, Mr Wainwright.

I'd do anything for you,
Mrs Partridge.

Will you make sure there
are no leaves in my hair?

Oh, I do hope I'm not covered
in pollen. He gets hay fever.

I shall have to mow the lawn when
I get home and then, if he starts sneezing, I can blame it on that.

I think it's wonderful
that you're prepared to mow the lawn because of me, Mrs Partridge.

It makes another bond between us,
like modern poetry and the New Statesman.

I don't like the four-letter words.

That's only to shock the
bourgeoisie, Mrs Partridge.

When the revolution comes,
there'll be no-one to shock any more.

We'll all use four-letter words.

There'll be no more hypocrisy.

It's too difficult to spell.

I've just done me face,
Mr Wainwright!

You do understand why me conscience
won't allow me to go all the way.

Oh, yes, I understand, blast it.

And I respect you for it.

Only, there was no need to elbow
me where you did, Mrs Partridge.

I can take a hint, you know.

I am sorry, Mr Wainwright.

I didn't know about that
zip in your inside pocket.

I didn't realise you were
just putting your glasses away.

As long as we're together,
Mrs Partridge,

as long as we can go on...

going nearly all the way...

I don't know about "nearly",
Mr Wainwright.

I'll try and be patient,
Mrs Partridge.

I suppose it was silly of me to
panic, but when I heard your zip go,

I never dreamed
it was your glasses pocket!

We're going to have to pack it in,
Cyril, this lurking-about lark.

We're either going to
get arrested or assaulted.

Or even educated.

I didn't know they came here.

I expected a pair of nesting
chaffinch, not a brace of librarians.

Once you realise they're cavorting,
it's too late to move, in't it?

Oh, my foot's gone to sleep. They
need putting to sleep, your feet.

If you want to photograph something,
then pick something that we're not going to be accused of peeping at,

something neutral. What about the
sunrise tomorrow morning?

I'm not getting up early
in t'morning.

We don't have to get up for it.

We'll be out there waiting for it.

We'll sleep out there,
somewhere up on the hill, eh?

We'll use the camping gear,

use the tent.

You've got a sleeping
bag, Cyril, I've got two.

A drowsy summer night,
smell of grass...

THUNDER CRASHES

Oh, dear. Agh! I've trod in
something! I've trod in something!

Will you get that out of my face?

I can't see where I'm looking.

That's a sight
I shall always remember.

The wet look comes to long johns.

Oh, I do hope there's nobody in here.
Suppose it's inhabited?

I were just getting comfortable in
that tent. I should think you were.

You had three quarters of it.

It's really quite unexciting, isn't
it, water trickling down your neck?

No wonder rich folk
don't go in for it.

What's that? What's that?

It's a pair of... Look, will you
shut up? You'll get me nervous!

Put the gear down here.
It's dry down here.

Not on me foot! Oh, dear, what
a place to go to bed in.

We'll make it comfy in a minute.
Now, what we want is a fire.

Now, get some sticks and stuff, eh?

THUNDER CRASHES

I bet there's Boris Karloff
round here somewhere plugging into all this free electricity.

I'll just turn the lamp up
so that we can see ourselves in our midsummer splendour.

"Balmy summer night," he says!

That tent were about as
waterproof as my left sock.

It was all right in 1947.

"Smell of grass," he says. All we get
is the smell of steaming long johns.

Ah, it should remind you
of that September Morn.

Would you care to smoke?

Eh up, are you losing your grip?

It's my turn.
It were your turn three years ago.

Do we light it or have it inscribed?

Ah, get it lit. I bet this goes
bang or something halfway down.

Come on, let's get the fire lit.
Well, hurry up. I'm cold.

Get some more sticks.
Put them in the middle here.

Oh, look, there's water dripping
right in the middle of it!

It's all right, is this.

I knew I was cut out for camping.

All them years in
the lino department

when I could have been out here
under the stars getting pneumonia.

'Ere, hang on.

Just before we turn in, I'd like to
take a photo of this for posterity.

Stand over there.

I'll just get me camera adjusted.

I'm getting
fed up with you with that camera.

It's not the same round here.

It's perishing!
Have you got enough light?

I could use a flash. Right. Not that
sort of flash! Put your leg down!

Well, hurry up, I'm freezing!

Cecil Beaton could have taken six
by now and gone out and bought a new hat. Right, hold it!

Let's get turned in.

Well, there's nowt to stop us now.

We can go where we want.

I dare bet when we're feeling
really reckless,

we'll travel
anything up to five miles away.

Oh, not to Mablethorpe.
What about Sid in t'caff?

Oh, there's hundreds of places
you could go. I've just been.

You can have some harrowing
experiences travelling.

If you go a few miles
in that direction,

you're liable to finish up in
Lancashire? You could come out again. I should hope so!

But if you take the wrong direction
coming out, where are you next? Wales!

But there must be
some kind of warning. There isn't.

You could be there in all innocence,
unless you happen to hear the rustle of dry lettuce and a hymn or two.

They should rope it off,
like a hole in the road.

Well, you don't have to stop there.
You could go right across the seas.

Aye, and then what's the first
place you bump into? Ireland!

Dodge City with Guinness.

He's got a lovely set
of teeth, has Cyril.

His mam used to feed
him on ginger snaps.

And don't forget, all got to
get up early in the morning

in case the sun decides to
penetrate that heaving monsoon cloud.

"Balmy summer night," he says!

Well, I'm not a photo fanatic,
so don't start knocking me up early.

One out, all out! Crack of dawn.

You can be fairy godmother, Cyril.

Brew up in the morning.

The tea's at your elbow.

Right, good night!

Night. Good night.

QUACKING

I am not listening.

I have withdrawn into the deep
recesses of Hindu meditation.

QUACK!

And you.

Nearly dinnertime.
I know! Me belly's rumbling.

I do not wish to know that.

I was supposed to photograph
the sunrise. Yes, er,

I meant to talk to you
about that, Cyril. Eh?

Would you settle for a sunset?

We'll leave that lot, Ernie. If
you send it down on Clapper's van...

Camper's breakfast, eh?

Ah, it gives you an
appetite, this outdoor caper.

That's your sixth bag of crisps.
There ain't much in crisps!

The way you eat 'em
sounds like the Durham Light Infantry marching on thin ice.

Me man used to like 'em
with cheese and pickles.

The Durham Light Infantry?
I never knew that.

No, crisps, y'daft barmcake!

Fastest marching pace in the British
Army, the Durham Light Infantry.

Aye, going forward, maybe.

But me and Ginger Carrington were
going faster when we were deserting.

You're a disgrace to the colours.

Well, he were worrying
about his wife having a baby.

And he knew if he never got
home, she'd never have one.

What were you doing on
this dubious expedition?

Oh, he were me mate.
We did everything together.

He's a bigger liar
than Godfrey's parrot.

Ah, yes, but he's had more
advantages than Godfrey's parrot.

Aye, I've been lucky that way.
No more than you deserve. Ta.

I think I've got just
about half a roll left.

I wouldn't say that, Cyril,
if the right woman comes along.

Film, I'm talking about.

That's what we should do
sometime, go to t'films.

We haven't been to
t'flicks for ages.

Oh, they're all
bum and bosoms nowadays.

Cowboys ain't. Ah, but if they
were, wouldn't the history of the West have been different?

I like a good cowboy.

He's still got this yen
for the wide-open spaces.

You've only got to look in
his underpants to see that.

We should go to Huddersfield.

Which is notorious for cowboys,
as everybody knows.

To Huddersfield films!
When there's a cowboy on.

I've heard enough rattle of gunfire
listening to you eat them chips.

It's better than thee clicking the
shutter. Photography is an art form!

What? 33 shots of a
caterpillar's landing gear?

You must be tolerant
of people's foibles.

He's no idea. No idea at all.

Oh, I don't mind people's foibles.

But 33 close-ups of a
caterpillar's foibles? Ooh!

Come on, get it down, hurry up.

Ta-ra, Ernie. All the best, Ernie.

It's not a bad day now, Cyril. True.
What are we going to do with it?

I want me dinner.

Well, it can't take all day,
even you.

Let's build a flying model aircraft.

Oh, no, that's boring.

No, they always crash first go.

Now we've finished with aeronautics,
let's do something else.

Take me hands.

One of these days,
I'm going to paint Mrs Batty.

What colour? On paper, y'silly sod!

That's who he reminds me of!
Toulouse-Lautrec!

Who's he when he's out?

He's a painter. And decorator?

Does he do muriels? Does he do what?

Muriels! Pictures on t'walls!

Little Dick Garriss
does muriels.

There's nothing like
setting yourself a target.

Eh,
he did one on this chip-shop wall.

There's another novelty.
In Huddersfield.

A mermaid and six haddocks.

Very moving, I'm sure.

I bet John Wayne ain't always
clicking his shutter. No!

And let's hope he's quicker on t'draw
than someone I could mention when losing control of his undergarments.

It's all right up here, but you
do miss the refinements of life...

like Rachmaninov and plumbing.

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