Original subtitles

The members of my cabinet are here for one reason

and one reason only--

because they are the best people for the job.

You just keep on climbing all the way to the top.

All I want is for you to pass on any information

that comes your way.

Will I be paid?

Uh, I-- Barbara, I don't think you've met

my secretary, Sheila Buckley.

I'm afraid Harold didn't think you were quite 100%.

This is a mess. You've got to sort this out.

We seem to have uncovered some inconsistencies

about your business dealings.

It's the police.

Births never talked to Deaths.

Deaths never talked to Births.

There was no communication between the two departments.

Where are you going, Dad?

Uh, Miami.

- How long for? - Only for a few days.

Have a good flight, Mr. Carey.

Thank you.

Prime Minister.

I know that members on both sides of the House

will want to join with me in sending deepest condolences

to members of Mr. Stonehouse's family.

Oh, that's an absolute ripper from Geoff Thompson.

It is now five days since the Labour MP John Stonehouse

disappeared off this beach in Florida.

In those five days, there's been no indication

as to what might have happened to him.

First, it was thought Mr. Stonehouse

may have got into difficulties and drowned.

But earlier today

came a dramatic development with reports

that he may have been the victim of a mafia execution.

Quoting sources in Miami, Mr. Stonehouse

may have become unwittingly involved

with a notorious crime syndicate in a business deal

that went wrong.

In other news, Scotland Yard have confirmed

that they wish to question the missing peer, Lord Lucan,

about the murder of his children's nanny.

Mafia?

Christ alive.

He's the member for Walsall North, not Little Italy.

I've got a member of the House of Lords

who's apparently vanished without trace

and an MP who seems to have gone swimming with the fishes.

At this rate, there'll be nobody left by Christmas.

What are the numbers like, Betty?

Tight, Prime Minister. Very tight.

And that's assuming there are no abstentions and the Whips

can manage to drag everyone out of their bath chairs.

Christ.

As his secretary, you must know Mr. Stonehouse well.

What sort of recreations does he have?

Recreations?

Well, he's always been a very strong swimmer.

It's really the only recreation he has.

- What? - Shh.

He swam whenever he had the opportunity,

and I do know he always liked to swim out a long way.

Mum?

Yes, darling?

Is Dad ever going to come home?

I don't know, darling.

We can only pray that he's all right.

But I don't understand.

No, and I don't understand, either. I...

I don't think any of us do.

But where is he?

He must be somewhere.

Order! Order!

The ayes to the right, 316.

The noes to the left, 318.

The ayes to the right, 316.

The noes to the left, 318.

The noes have it. The noes have it.

Unlock.

If Stonehouse was to remain missing,

if no body is discovered, it could take several years

before he's officially declared dead.

In theory, he could continue as an MP in absentia

unless grounds could be found for disqualifying him.

But what if there's another general election?

Plainly, that would be a problem.

You're bloody right it would be a problem.

We'd be asking the voters of Walsall North

to put their crosses next to someone

who is most probably lying on the ocean floor

having his bones picked clean by sharks.

Quite understandably,

they might think he's not in much of a position

to represent their interest.

Let me get this straight, Betty.

This government has a majority the size of my toenail.

We also have an MP who may or may not be dead

and who may or may not be a Soviet spy, for that matter.

But we can't do a damn thing about it,

at least not unless his body's found.

Or else he stages the greatest comeback since Lazarus.

Oh, good afternoon.

Um, I've come about the apartment.

The apartment that was advertised.

Come in. Come in.

Please. We're all pals here.

Take a seat. - Thank you.

So, what do you have in mind?

Oh, um, I think I'll...

I think I'll have a beer.

Thank you very, very kindly.

- Ray. Ray Simpson. - Joe.

Joe Carey.

Welcome, Joe.

You live in Melbourne or just passing through?

Just passing through. Just passing through.

Mm.

Well, you obviously like your jazz.

Otherwise, you wouldn't be here.

What sort of stuff do you go for?

What sort of stuff do I go for?

Um...

Charlie Mingus.

Art Blakely.

Thelonious Monk.

Cannonball Adderley.

You know what, Joe?

You're a man after my own heart.

I think we're all partial to a bit of hard bop here.

Here's to the mighty cannonball, eh? Hear, hear?

Blow, big man, blow.

Blow, big man, blow.

Hello.

It's Barbara. I just...

I just wondered if you'd heard anything.

Nothing at all, I'm afraid.

It's such a worry.

For you, of course.

And the children.

Frankly, I can't imagine what you're going through.

No. Well...

I-I didn't really think you'd...

I'm sorry to have called you so late.

It's perfectly all right. Any time.

Good night, Sheila.

Good night.

All of you have been so kind and hospitable to me.

A solitary pond far from home.

And as a token of my appreciation,

I'd like to buy you all a drink.

All right. Good on you, mate.

Shane, same-- same again for everybody.

Another round, please.

And I think I might be a little short of cash.

Will you take a cheque?

Barbara, I'm afraid we have to be realistic about this.

We have to consider the possibility

that John might not be coming back.

I don't know how much you know about his financial affairs.

Well, he-- he always preferred to take care of them himself.

Were you aware of life-insurance policies?

I know he took out a life-insurance policy, yes.

I believe he was advised to

after the last IRA bombing campaign.

Policies?

You mean th-- there were more than one?

Yes.

Well, how many were there?

Five.

Uh, Mr. Murray. I didn't get my newspaper today.

My copy of "The London Times." Look for it for me.

I always thought there was something a bit off about him.

You know, Betty?

Always.

I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Just something a bit...

Off.

Off.

Off.

In the absence of any further leads,

the search has now taken on an international dimension.

- Central Police station. - Yeah. Hello.

I'd like to report a suspicious person.

"My Darling Dumbs."

Good evening, sir. I'm Inspector John Mackenzie.

This is my colleague, Acting Inspector Dave Waters.

Mind if we come in, sir?

Please.

So I understand you're the tenant here, sir.

Yes, I am.

Is everything all right, Inspector?

Do you mind telling us your name, please?

My name? Yes. Uh, Joe. Joseph Carey.

That's your real name, is it, sir?

Of course it is.

Would you like to see my passport?

Here you are.

You see, we have reason to suppose

that this isn't your real name.

You do? What...

Do you? Who do you-- Who do you think I am?

We believe--

We believe that you are, in fact, Richard John Bingham,

more commonly known as Lord Lucan.

Do lower your trousers, please, sir.

- Beg your pardon? - Take down your trousers.

All the way down, if you don't mind.

Down a bit.

You can pull them up again now.

Ah, do you mind explaining what all this is about?

I'm assuming you had a perfectly good reason

for taking such a keen interest in my, um-- in my thigh.

Our colleagues in Scotland Yard advised us that Lord Lucan

has a distinctive scar on his right thigh.

Ah. Right.

Do you know, perhaps I ought to be flattered, um, being mistaken

for one of the members of the aristocracy.

But I think it's, uh, I think perfectly obvious

that I am not Lord Lucan,

and neither, as far as I'm aware, am I

under suspicion for murdering my children's nanny.

So now that we've cleared all that up,

I can't see any possible justification

for you keeping me here any longer.

Have a seat, please, sir.

You see, we've had our eye on you for a while now, Joe.

Well, I can't think why.

Well, let me try to explain.

You recently opened an account in the name of Joseph Carey,

and you used a cheque from this account to pay a bill

in an establishment called...

Strange Fruit.

What of it?

Well, it's just that, uh, a few days earlier,

you opened another new account,

only this one was in the name of Ronald Petersen.

How do you explain that, Joe?

We found this in your apartment, Joe.

From the Shimmering Sands Hotel in Miami.

You recently stayed at the Miami Shimmering Sands?

A matter of fact, I have.

Not that it seems remotely relevant to anything.

Well, only that, uh, there's no record of you

entering the United States in your passport.

Oh.

No stamp, no visa, nothing.

I don't-- I don't-- I-I don't see any reason--

any reason at all why you-- why you feel the need

to delve into my, um, personal--

Who's Dumbs, Joe?

Are you Dumbs, Joe?

Is that it?

Or are you even Joe, Joe?

♪ Let Earth receive her king ♪

♪ Prepare him room ♪

♪ And Heaven and nature sing ♪

Hello. Yes?

It seems that Mr. Stonehouse had been living

in Melbourne since his disappearance,

having gained entry to Australia with a passport

he obtained in the name of a dead constituent.

Please tell me this isn't happening, Betty.

Ms. Buckley, can I ask you a few questions

about John Stonehouse?

Ms, Buckley, just a few questions?

Ms. Buckley, uh, you must be as surprised

as anyone by Mr. Stonehouse's reappearance.

Very surprised, yes. And very relieved.

If you could say one thing to Mr. Stonehouse,

what would it be?

I would send him all my best wishes

and assure him of my loyalty and friendship.

Thank you.

Mr. Stonehouse, I'm a psychologist appointed

by the State of Victoria to assess your mental state.

- My mental state? - That's right.

It's clear that you've found the life of an MP

particularly demanding.

And as someone with, as you say, high moral principles,

the constant compromises

and back-biting plainly took a heavy toll.

Would that be right?

Mr. Stonehouse, I wonder if you've ever heard

of the term "split personality"?

Uh, vaguely. Vaguely.

It's a condition whereby the sufferer finds himself

or herself unable to handle the demands of their daily life.

All the pressures and stresses.

In an attempt to cope,

to protect themselves, they create another personality,

a sort of shadow self

who exists alongside their normal personality.

One famous example of a split personality

would be in Robert Louis Stevenson's

story of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

They are, of course, the same person living together

in the same skin.

are you familiar with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?

Yes. Uh, yes.

Yes, I am, actually. Very, very much so, in fact.

- Betty. - He received the telegram.

He won't resign.

What do you mean, he won't resign?

Apparently, he hasn't done anything wrong.

Hasn't done anything wrong? Ye, gods.

We can't have one of our MPs faking his own death

and then reappearing on the other side of the world.

Might give the others ideas. He is our majority, Betty.

He has to be made to see sense.

Preferably with the aid of a large stick.

What about his wife?

Well, it's delicate, but I can try and reason with her.

See to it, Betty.

- Yes? - Mrs. Stonehouse.

Barbara.

Naturally, you'll be wanting to see John.

I understand that at least one Fleet Street newspaper has

offered to pay your airfare to Australia.

We also think it's a good idea

if you were to fly out as soon as possible.

- We? - The Prime Minister.

Oh.

That's very solicitous of him,

especially as he chose to overlook my husband

for any ministerial appointments.

The party like to look after their own.

It's even in our Constitution.

Oh.

So that's what this is.

- I'm sorry. - Well, I...

I get hit now.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but the government now

has a majority of just one.

So you would like me

to fly to Australia to make sure John plays ball.

Ready, sir?

Darling. What a wonderful surprise.

Ah.

Put it down there. Thank you, Bill.

Bill has been an absolute godsend.

I don't know what I'd do without him.

- Thank you, sir. - Thank you, Bill.

How are the children?

They're...

as well as can be expected under the circumstances.

I did want to get in touch.

You know, to let them know--

or let you know that I was all right.

It's just, um...

It wasn't really possible under the circumstances.

What happened, John?

It's not an easy thing to explain.

Try.

Well, over the last few months-- years, even,

I've increasingly felt that the...

the old John Stonehouse had ceased to exist

in any meaningful way and that all the pressures

that he'd been under had broken something inside him.

And the longer this went on,

the more it seemed that the only possible solution

was for him to stop inhabiting his-- his current shell,

as it were, and be reborn with another identity.

He, the old John Stonehouse?

Exactly so.

But I'm married to the old John Stonehouse.

I know, darling. I know. I know.

I can only liken it to, um...

- To what? - Well, I could on--

well, to-- to a...

Jekyll-and-Hyde-type situation.

Well, wasn't Mr. Hyde a-- a murderer?

- I didn't mean it literally. - No?

Then how did you mean it?

I-I'm...

I'm sorry. You know, I-I want to be sympathetic.

I do. I-I want to be your-- you help mate.

But, John, you let us believe that you were dead.

For five weeks.

I thought I was a widow.

The children-- far, far worse than that,

the children thought that they had lost their father.

Obviously, I regret that very much, with all my heart.

And what about all the other things?

Do you regret those, too?

Well, I'm aware that my reputation has sustained

a certain amount of damage.

A certain amount of damage?

Do you have any idea the trouble you have caused?

Not only the-- the mess you've left the government in.

You could go to prison, John, for years, years and years.

What will that do to your reputation?

And what about the effect on the children?

How do you think they are going to like

having a gaolbird as a father?

You know, may-- maybe it was-- maybe it was me

you, uh-- you really wanted to get away from, the, uh--

the old Mrs. Stonehouse.

God, no. No, of course not.

That was the last thing on my mind.

I love you. Surely you must know that.

I...

I still don't understand.

John, if you were under so much pressure, such disillusion,

why didn't you just say something?

Darling, I want to answer your questions,

your perfectly reasonable questions,

but I have been advised

by a psychologist,

a very eminent woman, incidentally,

that I should not dwell too much on what's happened.

That I shouldn't churn up too much mental mud, as it were,

because apparently,

there's a real danger of it triggering a, um...

A...

- A what? - A relapse.

The by-election defeat leaves the government

in a more precarious position than ever.

In the absence of John Stonehouse,

The Labour Party now has no clear majority

and is facing calls for a vote of no confidence

in the House of Commons.

Telegram is to go to Sheila Buckley.

Mm-hmm.

At 151 Castle Rain Mansions, London, SW1.

- Yes. - The message reads as follows.

"Come soonest, stop.

Bail granted but situation delicate, stop.

Charge ticket to JT Stonehouse Global Initiatives, stop.

All my love, Dumbs."

- How many words is that? - 21.

It's cheaper if you can keep it down to 20 or less.

"Much love, Dumbs."

Prime Minister.

Yes, Betty.

It's about the member for Barnsley.

Old Melvin? What's he been up to?

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

Where are we going?

My lawyer has very kindly provided us

with a splendid new motor for the duration of my bail

and a place to stay-- a safe house.

A safe house? Is that what spies use?

It's only an expression, darling. Drive on, please.

Oh. Oh.

How marvellous to see you both.

It's been a bit of a mad rush, I'm afraid,

but tried to make it as homely as possible.

They call this stuff Weegee Bites,

but really, it's exactly like Weetabix

just with the corners left on.

That was the most extraordinary racket last night.

Did either of you hear that?

Some native creature stirring in the undergrowth, no doubt.

Did you hear it, Sheila?

- I can't say I did. - No?

I slept like a log, I'm afraid.

Your bedroom faces the other way from us,

so I daresay that makes a difference.

I'm going to go and have a lie down.

Jet lag. - Of course.

For some reason, it doesn't seem to have affected me.

Can't think why. Can I bring you anything?

No, no. I can manage on my own.

What's going on? I don't understand.

Everything is fine. Trust me. And be patient.

I thought we were going to be together. Two of us.

It's just a few details to iron out.

That's all. I promise.

Everything is completely under control.

Hello, darling.

Well, I suppose what happened to me could best

be summed up as a brainstorm.

A brainstorm that I'm convinced was brought on

by the pressures of my political career.

You see, increasingly, I came to feel that...

I came to feel that I was shackled,

so to speak, to the wheel of a chariot.

And as the wheel turned,

so the spikes dug in, slowly draining me of blood.

Fine Christmas present he turned out to be.

Brainstorm my arse.

Apologies, Betty.

And what's all this chariot nonsense?

Sounds like something out of "Ben-Hur."

It gets worse, I'm afraid, Prime Minister.

So far, Mr. Stonehouse has applied to eight countries

for political asylum,

including Sweden, Mauritius, Tanzania and Bangladesh.

He's also delivered a handwritten petition

to Government House

calling on the Queen to afford him safe passage

should he be forced to return to the UK.

Oh, she's going to love that.

Oh, that will really make her day.

Well, I doubt if she'll have time to read the whole thing.

Mr. Stonehouse insisted on un-rolling this petition

out on the floor of Government House,

all 5-foot-6-inches of it.

Do you believe him, Betty, this brainstorm of his?

Well, it seems remarkably convenient

under the circumstances.

Bloody right it does.

- On the other hand... - What?

Well, would anyone in their right mind

really behave like this?

He could be howling at the moon for all I care.

But I'll tell you one thing, Betty.

Without him, we're stuffed.

Can you get me the Australian High Commissioner, please?

Alan, uh--

Yes. And to you, and to you.

Alan, I've got a little favour I need to ask of you.

- These are egg and cress... - Ooh!

...while these are ham and mustard.

Lovely!

Oh!

Mmm!

What is it, darling?

Have one of these. They're awfully good.

There are some sausage whirls, if you prefer.

Barbara? - No, I wouldn't prefer.

Thank you.

Please, Barbara, don't spoil it.

I'm sorry, but which John Stonehouse am I talking to?

I get so confused.

I thought we'd agreed not to discuss that.

No, you told me not to talk about it.

That was your decision, not mine.

And that's rather different, isn't it?

You see, it-- it occurs to me that, throughout all this,

you've never thought about your family.

You've never thought about us.

You've only ever thought about yourself and what suited you.

And I-I understand you, you know--

you lost your old identity.

I mean, at least I think I do.

But-- But did you lose your conscience along the way?

Did you--

Did you lose your sense of-- of what's right and what's wrong?

Barbara, I told you I can't discuss that.

Oh, no, I'm sorry. Yes.

That's your, um, finer feelings, of course.

Couldn't we all just--

Just what?

Be nice?

No.

No, I-I don't think we could.

Do you really think we haven't been here before?

Over and over and over again?

And he always comes back to me, every time.

Barbara, please. Please.

Except the difference is, this time,

is that, like you, I'm beginning to see things much more clearly.

The scales have fallen from my eyes,

as they say.

Not that I have scales on my eyes, of course.

I'm not sure what does.

Something cold-blooded, I suppose.

Mmm!

Oh, you're right. These are awfully good.

Oh, for God's sake, Barbara!

Leave me alone, Barbara. Stay-- Stay back.

I'm warning you, Barbara. Just leave me alone, all right?

If you don't leave me alone, I'll--

What? What will you do?

Go on. Tell me.

What? End it all?

You do love your melodramatic gestures, don't you, John?

Well, go on, then. - What?

Well, you've died once already, so you've had some practise.

Maybe this time you'll make a better job of it.

John Stonehouse, I have an order

for your extradition to the United Kingdom

to face 15 charges of forgery, theft and fraud.

Sheila Buck--

Sheila Buckley, I also have an order for your extradition

to face five charges of theft.