Original subtitles

- Okay, Jock.

- It's great what you see when you don't have a gun.

- Ah, I didn't realize I had an audience.

- Your secret's safe with me.

- Do you want a lift? - Mm.

- Aw, Esme, educated in their native tongue.

Marvelous and do you like speaking in the Gaelic, hm?

- It's like poetry, isn't it? - Yes, well, start them young.

- Now, I've had the poster printed up for Lochdubh Day.

- Oh, it's normally just word of mouth.

- You can't plan too carefully.

There's a lot still to be done.

I've spoken to Isobel about the choir.

And that's all settled. - It's usually just the band.

- Oh, gosh, I must phone Evadne McTurk

and confirm, I'll see you on Thursday bye.

So you're a writer, are you?

- Of sorts.

- What sort?

- Nothing you'll have heard of.

- You never know. - I write under a pen name.

- And what would that be?

- No, really! - No, come on, I'm interested.

- Sadler. - Aye?

- Chuck Sadler.

- Chuck Sadler?

The Chuck Sadler? - Well, yes, I suppose so yes.

- Bleached Skulls In The Sunset.

Dead Man's Gulch.

That bit where Luke Kincaid shoots Jed McGlone

through the skeleton of the buffalo!

You're a gifted writer Paul. - You've read it. I'm amazed.

- Read it? I've read them all, me!

Chuck Sadler!

Chuck Sadler!

- Here you are, Rowan, I've brought a friend for you.

Come in, Hamish.

I'll fetch the new book. - Come on.

You've fairly been doing the place up.

- Oh don't mention it.

Here we are. The Cowhand's Revenge. Fresh from the press.

Would you like me to sign it for you?

- Aye!

- To Hamish...

From Chuck Sadler.

- Oh, wad the power the gift to gie us...

In the name of God, who's been quoting Burns at you?

- Hello?

PC Macbeth. - Hamish, please.

- Now, you'll be coming on Thursday.

- I'm not much of a committee man.

- No but we'll need you, Lochdubh Day's being expanded.

The road'll need to be blocked off.

- Normally just park a bale out in

the middle of the high street.

- Eight o'clock sharp. Here's a draft agenda.

What you got there? - It's a dead crow.

A what?

- Must've kicked it out in the garden.

Well, take it out of here, for God's sake.

I must change. Paul, would you give...

- Hamish. - Hamish a cup of tea?

And wash your hands.

- Ah, some people have got no patience, eh, Jock?

- Mr. McCrae!

Mr. McCrae!

Mr. McCrae?

Mr. McCrae?

- Aye.

- Aw, what a marvelous shed.

It was lovely earlier this morning.

- Aye. We're paying for it now then, eh?

- Could I have a word? - Aye, talk away.

- I hear that you've got an old hand loom in your shed.

- Oh, aye?

- Yeah well we've decided to dress up the hall

as an authentic weaving cottage.

- Have we? - Somebody mentioned the loom.

I thought maybe?

- Well you can see I'm a bit busy now.

It's in the back somewhere.

Excuse me, I'm a bit busy at the moment.

- Aww, please, it wouldn't take long, surely.

No! Isn't this a blackhouse?

- This is a pile of stones! - But you can't destroy this!

This must be one of the last original blackhouses

left standing.

- I'd advise you not to instruct me on blackhouses.

My granny was born in one

and dank, smelly holes they are, too!

- Why? Why!

- I'm putting in a new septic tank, all right?

To hell with a pile of stones! What about my tire?

- It's a piece of rubber!

You can't compare it with the heritage

your forefathers left you!

Hamish! - Hamish.

Hamish, I want this lifted for criminal damages

to my tractor.

Mr. Hamish, will you kindly contact

the Planning Department in Inverness.

This man is guilty of destroying a listed building!

- Excuse me do you know how much a new tire costs?

A fortune! - It's just a tire!

- Dad, it'll just be a tenner. - Shut up!

- Are you gonna phone or shall I?

- Why don't we all just calm down?

- I'm perfectly calm. - Oh well I'm bloody well not!

- No wonder, the destruction of a blackhouse--

- Don't you talk to me about destruction!

Wow, wow, you mentioned a listed building.

- It's not listed. - Yet.

- And you're talking about what,

10 quid damage to a tire?

- Well, maybe 20.

- Look, Lachie, it is not the money.

- It is the principle of the thing.

- Exactly!

- Cup o' tea.

- Get off!

- Shut up, Rowan. - Is that Hamish?

- We'll see, dear.

Yes, it is. Come in, Hamish.

- Hi, there. For you, Paul. - Oh, thank you.

I say Hamish, thanks so much for smoothing

over the tractor incident.

- Och, it was nothing. No more dead crows I hope?

- No, no, no. - Ah, well, then.

- Did you enjoy the book?

- You know Paul, I haven't had a minute.

- I was joking. - So am I.

It was great, it's the best yet.

- Well thank you. Come on in.

We took 48 pounds at the gate.

The tombola still did--

- That'll be the police here to check the books Cameron!

- Lovely to see you, Hamish. Now, you sit down here.

- Isobel. - Hamish.

- You better pop that in the fridge.

Wee Jock was lying on it.

- What do you drink Hamish? I've heather beer.

- Heather beer. - Lovely, yeah.

- I was just pointing out that, in the last fiscal year,

Lochdubh Day returned a deficit of 25 pounds, 33 pence.

I view this matter with no small degree of concern.

If a rollover budget is to be considered--

For goodness' sake Mr. Dicks, the money's irrelevant.

I've been on to Highland Region.

They'll give us a loss guarantee of 2,500.

- Oh, oh, I see.

But even so, a loss guarantee

is not the same as project funding.

- What's a few pounds matter when your culture's at stake?

- Culture, is it not just a piss-up at the pub?

- Oh Rory.

I know you won't mind me saying this but that is

just the sort of attitude that's left the Highlands

in the state they are today.

- Barney and me are happy to open the doors of the hotel

anyway, and we've ordered a bouncy castle, as usual.

- Well--

- Actually, I canceled the bouncy castle.

- Since when?

- Well Vicky here thought that--

- With respect, Agnes, I don't think a bouncy castle is

quite the sort of tone we're looking for here.

Now I've contacted the Sealed Knot Society.

And they'll recreate the Battle of the Devil's Hump.

There'll be a Gaelic cookery competition.

The choir will sing.

And then there's the traveling Tartan Roadshow.

The tourists will love it.

Now, for the ceilidh at night--

- Esme usually handles the ceilidh.

We'll be getting Wullie Muirhead's band over from Cnothan.

Won't we?

Well, Vicky's been suggesting some new ideas, but--

- Oh, Barney. - What?

- Would you be an angel? - Aye, right excuse me.

How much is all of this going to cost?

- I'd already paid the deposit on the bouncy castle.

- I'm afraid you'll really have to ask Vicky.

- Clapshot. - Sorry?

- Clapshot it's boiled cabbage and potatoes garnished

with salt and oatmeal.

And this is Cloutie Dumpling.

- What?

Heather beer.

Hello?

Bruce?

DI Bruce, good morning, sir.

No, it was nonstop here yesterday, sir.

A fax? No, I don't think so.

Threats? To the settlers?

Extreme nationalists? No, I don't think so, sir.

Quiet as the grave here, sir.

And you snip that there.

Get rid o' that...

And a wee drop of varnish

over there

like that.

And there you are.

- That's marvelous.

It's nothing like a fly.

- It's no' meant to be a fly. This one's a wee shrimp.

But it's more...

The memory of a wee shrimp.

I mean, if it actually looked like a shrimp?

- Then you wouldn't catch anything.

- Correct.

Bit bright for the sea trout, though. Night's best.

- What, you mean you fish in the dark?

- Aye.

Orange shrimp fly in an eight out of 10 on a moonlit night.

It's perfect.

- Hamish!

- Oh Hamish, there's a right rammy goin' on down

at the pier, weapons are being brandished.

- Ah give us a break Joan, there's a rise on here.

- Well Agnes is threatening to murder Barney.

- What are they arguing about? - It's a private matter.

- Over to you, Paul. - Oh, right, okay.

Give it a whirl, eh?

- So what's the big secret?

- Well Agnes thinks Barney's having an affair with his wife.

- Vicky?

And Barney?

- Two and a half hours you were out with her!

- She wanted to look at my creels.

- Aye, and more!

- Hey you, she's going to decorate the hall with them!

Do you think my head zips up the back?

Don't you walk away from me! Don't you walk away from me!

- Morning, Agnes.

- Morning, Hamish.

- Any chance of cup o' that lovely coffee of yours?

- For you, Hamish, anything.

I'll see you later.

!

- Barney, please...

I don't want any knife fights in Lochdubh.

- Neither do I.

Gonna give us a hand with these up to the hall?

- You mean Vicky really does want them?

- Aye, for the ceilidh.

She's going to construct a fishing theme installation.

- Oh, right.

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

Listen, ladies, you're really going to have

to concentrate, okay?

Now can I have that once more, please?

- They never really wove tweed locally.

- Yes, it was out in the islands mostly.

- That's right. - Yes!

- Ladies. - Hamish.

- Oh, well...

Ah, will you just stack them over there

in that corner, please gentlemen thanks?

- Funny smell in here. - Thought I smelled something.

- Maybe the creels. - No.

Well it's probably the fixing agent.

- Sorry?

- I thought we ought to use a traditional fixing agent

for the tweed.

- Traditional fixing agent? - Was that not?

- That's right, men's urine.

- Oh!

- What's wrong?

Hamish?

- Chuck.

- Good morning. Look at this.

Uh-huh.

- This is beyond a joke. - Yes.

Hamish, could you somehow let her know

how the village feels?

- A vendetta? Against me?

For goodness' sake Hamish

after all I've done for the community.

Petty jealousies, that's all.

- Vicky, these people can be dangerous.

I mean they've even threatened to burn people

out in other places.

- Darling, the crow is the symbol of death.

- Well, they're not scaring me or burning me out!

You can't give in to these people.

Now, I didn't intend to take this any further, Hamish,

but if you insist on personalizing it,

will be very interested.

- No, I don't think there's any need to involve them.

If it's a local matter, I'll sort it out.

- Well you'd better do it soon, hadn't you?

- Hm.

Hey, where's your dad?

- Under a tractor last time I saw him.

- Tell him I want a word with him about a letter.

- What letter? - Just tell him.

Hey! This thing MOT'd?

- What? - MOT'd.

- No. Why? - Just, just asking.

Isobel. Sorry. Isobel, can I have a word?

- Hang on, I'll pop this off to the printer's in Oban.

They print it up by half-three.

- New technology, Flora, eh? Cannae be doin' wi' it.

Asked for a police horse, they sent me a Land Rover!

Have a look at this. - Let's see.

Very nice. - Any idea where it came from?

- It's been cut up from an old copy of the Listener.

- Is that it? - That's about all I can say.

2,000 copies a week. - 2,000-1, well that's good.

- What about prints and all that forensic stuff?

Send it off to Inverness.

- No, I'd rather sort this out on my own.

You okay? - Hmm.

- Listen, Isobel, keep this to yourself, eh?

Oh, by the way, I was wondering, er,

are you going to the ceilidh?

- Well, I was supposed to be in it, why?

- Could you look after Wee Jock cause I'm goin' fishing?

- Course, Hamish. No trouble. - You're a doll.

- Aye, well, it's not a letter I'd be sending her.

I'll ignore that.

- I haven't the foggiest idea about that, Hamish.

- You've been shooting crows, I see.

- Oh, goodness gracious me, eh?

My freedom to shoot vermin is to be curtailed, is it?

Aye, the ugly face of fascism, boy.

- You're calling me a fascist?

- If the cap fits Hamish.

- Well I'll tell you this, Lachlan, this is bad.

This is very, very bad.

When I find out who did it, they're in big, big trouble.

- Well, don't look at me, Hamish, I can't even spell.

- Very good.

- Hamish. - Yes?

- Half the village wants rid o' her, boy.

- Aye, and so does the other half.

- So it's crows nailed to doors and threatening

letters now, eh?

- How do you know about that? - Isobel told me about it.

- I'm just after telling Isobel!

- She knew already.

Rory told her and the postman told him

and Esme told Agnes about the crow

on account of her niece Kirsty hearing

Vicky tell Cameron at the bar.

- Oh, see this place, it's unbelievable!

- I know, I know.

You can't clean your ferret's cage out here

without it being on CNN.

You should know that.

If you want my advice,

let it all blow over.

- Aye, maybe you're right.

- As long as you can keep Inspector Bruce off your case.

- Bruce? What do you know about Bruce?

- Oh, he's been screaming for you all day on the radio.

I told him you were out chasing poachers.

- Did he believe you?

- The man's a balloon of course he believed me.

Especially when I told him you might have

a confiscated sea trout for him.

- The woman has poisoned the community.

Aye, here, have another wee dram, me Lachlan.

- Aye, cheers.

- She's taken over the ceilidh lock, stock and barrel.

Esme's fizzing.

- Oh, and her such a moist thing, too!

- It's a terrible thing when the powers of darkness invade

a man's private business.

- She phoned the Planning. - The Planning?

She never mentioned my caravan, did she?

- Aye, and her here not five minutes from Kelvinside.

- Morningside. - Eh?

- She comes from Morningside, not Kelvinside.

- Ah Morningside, Kelvinside, backside,

they're all the bloody same!

Incomers telling us how to live our lives.

- Aye, and buying up all the good houses

so as local people like TV John here have to live

in caravans without planning permission.

- Aye!

- Hey, wait a minute, I'm an incomer.

- Aye, Barney, but I mean, there's incomers,

and there's incomers.

- Agnes? - Have you seen Barney?

- No.

Quiet tonight, eh?

Look, I just popped in for a chat.

There's been a wee bit of trouble.

- More than a wee bit, I'd say.

- There's no easy way of asking this,

but there's been threats made to Vicky Jeffreys.

- So you think it was me that sent--

- No, no, no, no, I just, you know, I'm just...

I'm just here. - Hamish.

Barney and me, we've been here, what, five years now?

We're accepted. We go with the flow.

I had my man.

Friends.

Now look at it, eh?

Och, it makes my blood boil

to see her march in and act as if she was what,

the Queen of Sheba!

- But Barney loves you, Agnes.

- So you think I'm after her.

Well, you're right but prove it.

- God.

Dad, Dad!

Dad Stop! Control yourself!

Stop, Dad, no!

Dad, Dad, you have to stop!

I took the wheel off to fix it.

- Rowan, Rowan!

Come on. Good boy. Here.

- Hamish! Stop!

Hamish, I've three rolls of film

and we've run out of developer.

- Rowan!

Rowan!

Rowan! Rowan's gone off.

You haven't seen Rowan, have you?

Rowan!

- Can I take a shot of this? - What?!

- Lachlan, Lachlan!

Lachlan!

You use that photo and I'll sue you!

- Come on, Lachlan, move!

- It's her that should be charged, Hamish,

the Marina's a write-off.

- Lachlan, you know what, you just can't go

around strangling folk like that.

- What way you like me to strangle her then?

- Don't start.

You're bloody lucky she's no' pressed charges.

- She made him do it. That's right boy.

- Who unscrewed the wheel?

That's who you should be looking for.

That's right as well boy.

- And, how do you know it was unscrewed?

- Eh? - Well...

I, I just...

I just, you know.

I just...

Just thought...

- Lachie, are you a complete plonker?

When I get my hands on you, boy--

- I thought you'd be pleased. - Right, that's it.

You're being nicked, the pair of ye. You for assault.

You for writing threatening notes

and for nailing crows to doors!

Okay?

Hello?

Detective Inspector Bruce, how are you, sir?

Settler Watch?

Yes, well, we did have a small incident sir,

but it's under control now.

A sea trout?

Well, I may just have one for you, sir.

Not at all, don't you mention it. Bye, now.

- Hamish, um, come on, come on.

- Er, Hamish look,

I did loosen her wheel nuts a wee bit,

but I don't know anything about dead crows or notes or...

- The boy's telling the truth, Hamish.

You couldn't spell crow, could you?

- Beat it.

- Abenheimer, Aben, och, what's wrong wi' my head?

I've just remembered, Abenheimer is

a sept of the Stewart Clan.

If you just wait here, Mr. Abenheimer I'll sort you out.

Sling us some shortbread red, Calum would you?

There's a lad. Och, there you are Mr. Abenheimer.

This is your Royal Stewart dress tartan,

a very, very special reserve

and for you, we're talking...

- Come on, lads, away with us to the Devil's Hump!

- Recovered from yesterday, I see.

- Oh, let them come here whoever they are!

I'll take them all on!

- She says it's Lochdubh Day or die.

- Hamish, you think you know a lot about girls,

but you don't understand women.

- Oh, really?

- She could no more admit she was at fault

than fly in the air.

- Hello.

Is there not a bouncy castle this year Hamish?

- No, Harry. Not the right tone, son.

- Will I take Wee Jock now?

- Nah, fishing trip's canceled.

- Not coming in, Hamish? Could be quite a good show.

- I'm up to my neck in it, John.

Need to sort out this note thing.

- Well everybody from the village is here.

- Nah, I'm fine.

- Dunno why she's got the chairs out.

It's a ceilidh, not a bloody recitation.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this year's

Beltane Ceilidh.

I've been doing a bit of research

and with the help of Isobel Sutherland...

I have discovered

that, according to the Lochdubh Listener...

According to the Lochdubh Listener of, um...

May 1892...

- You know, I've just been thinking, Lachie.

- Uh-huh?

- Maybe you could rebuild that blackhouse,

charge the tourists a fiver a skull to sit inside it.

- Do you reckon I'll get a fiver, do you?

- Oh, maybe even six.

- It's baffling, Jock.

Pure baffling.

- So to open our musical evening,

let us welcome Evadne McTurk of

the Cnothan Amateur Operatics.

Evadne will sing us a Scottish medley.

- Hold me back, Agnes!

- Did you hear the Planning boy was here today?

- "Oh, wad the power the gift tae gie us.

"To see ourselves as others see us."

Gift.

The gift.

Paul?

- Oh, bloody hell!

It's Wullie Muirhead! At last!

- Aye, you need to give me more notice.

Here clear a space on that stage, give me...

- But Evadne hasn't finished and then there's...

Ohh! Oh, no!

- Time and place! - No, but they're walking!

They're walking!

- End of the trail, partner.

- So what was it, Paul?

Another woman?

Boredom? - No, no, no, no.

I just wanted to get her to stop organizing.

I don't want to move again.

Everywhere we go, she tries to run everything, then...

Then she gets impatient when the locals won't follow her,

and then we leave.

- So why didn't you say something?

Why didn't you talk to her?

- Talk?

Talked for years.

I thought the letters might frighten her,

make her, make her come to me.

What'll happen?

- Well that'll depend on your wife.

- 1959, that's when it came to me.

I wrote a short story about a half-Pawnee, half-Scotsman.

- Luke Kincaid.

- I've never been there, you know.

The West.

Never been any further west than Bristol.

Can't face the ceilidh, Hamish.

- Well, Luke Kincaid would go.

- Would he? - Absolutely.

Getting lively in there, Kincaid.

- I'm sick and tired of watching you make

a total fool of yourself

organizing other people's lives for them

because I was too scared to tell you.

- Tell her now!

- And because I still love you enough to care.

- You didn't say. - You didn't ask.

- Come on you two, we need an extra couple for

the Eightsome Reel, Wullie!

Take it away there, Paul.

- Come on, Jock.

Let's go and catch a trout and bribe that stupid inspector.

Oh, man.

Doesn't get much better than this.