Original subtitles

- Oh, I missed it.

- He hasn't started yet.

- Shhh.

- Any minute now. - Shhh.

Jillian,

do the curtains.

Ladies and gentlemen, Frankie Brice.

- Oh man, would you listen to that?

- I'm listening.

I am listening.

- I definitely want a piece of this action, Barney.

- Sure, honey, sure.

It would take an angel to beat that.

An angel.

- Well, hey, Mr. McClintock?

Something in your eye?

- Only a tear, Hamish, only a tear.

You know, I thought I had a hard life

until I met that poor boy.

But my life has been full of good fortune

compared with the life and times of

Blind Boy Tusker Gray.

Blind boy?

- He was an orphan, Hamish.

He was raised in a home.

He had to endure a life of pain and desertion.

"When people came for children

to take them for their own,

they always took some other child and I was left alone."

Those were his very words, Hamish.

- Left alone, eh?

Can we sing along a Hamish, eh, Mr. McClintock?

- On you go.

- That's Nobody's Child, Hamish.

- Did Blind Boy Tusker Gray have a ticket?

- Hey you!

Come back here, you wee toll lad.

- Who?

Me?

- Are you all right, Rory?

- 26 years, man.

26 years of eating humble pie

and watching a Dunbracken boy walk off

with the Willie McGraw Memorial trophy.

- 26 years watching the regulars at the Dunbracken Arms

walk off with the annual wager.

But not this year, boy.

This year, it's our turn.

- I think you and I should have a wee chat.

- About what?

- About the kind of low life that goes around

pretending to be blind

just so he can dodge his train fare.

- Lighten up, eh?

What's his name?

- Don't mind his name.

What if an inspector had come on?

You don't have a ticket,

Mr. McClintock could have been singing on come Monday.

Did you think of that?

- What if, what if?

You know, thanks to me,

that guy was feeling good about himself.

He was enjoying that warm glow you get

when you help the less fortunate.

Then you go and spoil it for him.

- Me?

Well, I spoiled it for him.

I'm not the one going around pretending to be blind.

- Take it easy, or you'll hurt my ears.

- I'll be checking your bag

so you don't have to give me any more of your cheek.

That was out of order, partly-way offensive.

- Offensive to who?

To blind people.

- How would they gonna know what I'm doing

if they're blind, pal?

- Well, somebody may tell them.

This is a small village.

Something like that can, you know.

But that's just not the issue, is it?

I mean, it's the ethics of the thing, that's the point.

- Look, you caught me fair and square.

So either toss me in the jug

or let it rest.

Spare me the sermon,

'cause frankly, you're not very good at it.

- Well, that's still an option, you know,

the jug,

unless I get your word there's no more

Blind Boy Tusker Gray.

- Solemn promise, okay? - Okay.

His name's Jock.

- Hello, Jean.

- Thanks for coming up, Thomas.

- This is the best day ever, Lachie.

I'm going to sing for Lochdubh and Cnothan.

Just as long as you win for Lochdubh and Cnothan.

Come on out, there's someone here to see you.

- Who?

- Hello, Frankie.

Tusker!

Tusker!

Nobody said you were coming.

Not a word, not a deck about.

Who won last time out?

- Me.

Double or quits?

- Post office on the corner. - On.

Go!

- Jock!

Jock.

- Thanks for bringing him, Hamish.

He must have been very impressed

to get picked up in a police van.

- No.

I don't think there's much to impress that kid.

How's he going at the school?

- We'll put it this way.

If we don't beat Dunbracken this year,

we'll never beat them.

Frankie's our little surprise talent,

and Esme's done a fantastic job of him.

All right, Jock!

- Who won?

- A draw, I'd say.

Come on, let's get Thomas some sweet.

- That ladies and gentlemen,

was the honey-sweet voice of young Frank Brice.

Discovered and trained

by our own delectable Esme here,

to represent us against Dunbracken

for the Willie McGraw Memorial trophy.

So.

What did you think of him?

- Well, I think I'll have a 10 on him.

- 10, 12. - 10 to the doctor.

20 to you, Steve.

Tenner for Duncan, Maggie, fiver for you.

- Well, there's something bothering you, I can tell.

Have you heard from Isobel or something?

- No, no, it's not her.

Some pal of Frankie's, that Tusker.

Something not right with the boy, John.

- What do you mean?

- I caught him on a bit of mischief.

I came the heavy copper.

He acted like he couldn't care less.

- Well, maybe he could see through your heart.

- I don't know.

Maybe I'm losing my touch.

- Well, while you ponder on that,

I'll go and get the bets on him.

- Here, John.

Just take a tenner on for me, yeah?

- Sorry I'm late.

- How did it go?

- Oh, fine, you know.

- Thomas.

- Business, Mr. McCrae?

- Yes.

- So, who's off the toff, then?

- What?

- Who's dead?

- Oh, Colonel McGregor, as a matter of fact.

The McGregors are a prominent family in the area, Thomas.

Minor aristocracy.

- Oh, that reminds me.

I've asked Hamish to get me some special cones

for the street, for the colonel's final journey.

Bound to be a big turnout.

- Lachie's a brilliant undertaker, Tusker.

Every funeral's planned like a military operation.

I mean, the brave just worship him.

Isn't that right, Auntie Jean?

- That's right.

There's more than the brave that worship Lachie McCrae.

- That's the downside to this set-up.

I mean, every night you have sit in the middle of

that romantic crosstalk, blowin' kisses.

Will turn your stomach.

- Frankie.

- Sorry.

- I was frightened, Frankie.

- What?

- Think you could stop calling me Tusker.

I find it kinda, juvenile.

- Sure.

From here on, it's Tommy.

- I understand your predicament perfectly, Thomas.

You see, I'm known locally as Lachie Jr.,

a title that is wholly at odds with my social position.

- What position's that, Mr. McCrae?

- Well, local undertaker.

- That's funny, I've never thought of an undertaker

as having a real position.

I always thought of it as a creeper job

that was tailor-made for, well, creeps.

Thomas.

- He's kidding you on, right Tommy?

- No, I'm serious, dead serious.

Kidding you on, isn't he?

- Black Bob.

- Well, well, well. It's the Lochdubh men,

come to part with some of their money.

- Ignore him.

- Did I tell you I had a nightmare last night, Lachlan?

- No, you never said, John.

- No? Well, I was standing on a cliff.

And this bus came careering towards me.

All the passengers were Dunbracken men.

And as I watched, the whole bus went straight over the edge.

- Hup.

- A busload of Dunbracken men going over a cliff?

You call that a nightmare?

- Oh, it was.

There were two empty seats.

- Ah, ah, ah, ah.

Have a little bit of respect for the law,

gents, if you don't mind.

Now get on with this or I'm outta here.

- We've come for the Willie McGraw trophy,

since it's our turn to exhibit before the competition.

Oh!

And to let you know that the Stag Bar wants to put

336 pounds on our boy winning the competition.

- If you good people are able to match that.

- Oh, we'll match it, Hamish.

And here's the trophy.

- 336, eh?

- 336.

Just to help you conceptualize that, Black Bob,

it's the same as all the toes on 28 men.

- That can't be right, Lachlan.

That would mean that every man would have to have 12 toes.

- Well, I was thinking of 28 Dunbracken men, TV John.

- Oh, all right you have.

I was forgetting about the effects of

the old limited gene pool.

- Okay, this is going to be kept in the Stag Bar,

in its usual place, and once you're able to raise the money,

okay.

- I'll bring it 'round personally myself, Hamish.

- Tìoraidh.

- Oh.

This is a recording of young Frankie Brice,

our boy in the competition.

Thought you might like a wee listen.

- Hmpfh.

- After you, TV John.

- Aye, gents.

See, it's the acoustics here,

that's why this is the spot.

- You keep takin' them, what they for?

- They're for hay fever.

All this hay that grows from here.

- How did they know you had hay fever?

- I didn't know you could sing.

- There's judges that come up from Inverness.

And hundreds of people come here to hear it.

Hundreds, I mean, I'll have to wear Highland kilt.

This guy I'm up against, Brainy Balfour.

He's won the contest for the last two years.

But not this time, Tommy, 'cause I'm going to win it.

I mean, it's my way of saying thank you to the villagers,

for treatin' me so nice.

As I said, it's a big deal, really.

- Sounds like a load of tosh to me.

- Well, maybe. But from my point of view, it's important.

- And as for that Lachie, Frankie.

Talk about a chooby.

"Position in the community."

How do you put up with that stuff?

They man's a galoot, that's what he is.

- Lachie's one of the best people I've ever met, Tommy.

But since you don't really know him,

guess you're entitled to your own opinion.

- Frankie, if somebody called a friend of mine a choob,

I'd take exception.

- Take exception?

What is this, you're my best pal,

you can say what you like,

even if it's something I don't agree with.

So what, right?

- Sure.

A present for ye.

- But it's your multifunction prized possession.

- Do you want it or not?

- Sure, but--

- Then it's yours.

- Tusker, what's wrong?

- Do you really want to know?

- Sure, I do.

- You owe me a quid, come.

- That is a fine singer they have this year.

- Who did McCrae say it was?

- Alfie!

- Frankie Brice, he's from Glasgow.

From Glasgow, are you sure?

- I'm sure.

- Oooooh.

- Something wrong, Harry?

- Oh, there's something wrong all right, Black Bob.

But only if you're a Lochdubh or Cnothan man.

This is going to be the easiest money we've ever made.

So come on, stomp up!

- Wouldn't you like lemonade?

- No, this is fine.

- Are you all right?

Is it a headache?

- No, I have hay fever.

- Hi.

- Would you turn that off, boy.

Hamish. - Harry, Black Bob.

Should have told me you comin', I'd come in with you.

- Oh, there's no need, Hamish.

- Well, they're all in deep shock, Hamish.

Too numb to be of any trouble.

Come on, boy.

Okay, what's up?

- Harry Balfour brought Dunbracken's money 'round.

- So what's the problem?

- They've doubled it.

They also brought a copy of the rules

pertaining to the Willie McGraw singing competition.

- What rules?

- Ones that say the competitors must be

natives of the village they represent.

- Frankie's not eligible, Hamish, bein' from Glasgow.

- Well, did anyone think to check this out?

- We didn't even know there were any rules, Hamish.

It would seem that Dunbracken men aren't quite as retarded

as we thought.

- Well, so that's that, there's nothing we can do?

- Esme says there's no time to get a substitute ready.

It'll be a walk-over, Hamish.

- And the Dunbracken men walk away with our money.

Oh, wait a minute.

- What is it, dearest?

- Oh, I think there's something here

we might be able to use.

Rule eight.

- Rule eight?

- Yes. Apparently Willie McGraw was keen for entrants

to be more than just kilt-swinging himbos with nice voices.

- Spit it out, dearest.

- Well, according to rule eight,

boys putting themselves forward for the trophy

were meant to be well-rounded lads,

who, in addition to possessing a good singing voice,

should be of excellent character,

and be capable of displaying some depth of intellect.

- Some depth of intellect?

Young Alfie Balfour?

- He's got the intellectual depth of a blue buckle.

- I'd say there has to be room for

negotiation on these rules.

A trade-off, maybe.

- Would you hold on?

Quiet out there!

Yes, I can see your rule eight, Meldon,

so what's the point?

I see.

No, there'll be no objections from us, Meldon.

Not since it's in the rules.

- What is it?

- They have found a substitute.

But, they want to incorporate a general knowledge quiz

into the competition.

Any boy failing to score 50% will be inedible.

- Can they do that?

- Oh, they can do that, Black Bob.

- General knowledge?

- Has anyone got a book?

- Here you are, Esme, it's on the house.

- Of course, I did play a substantial part

in the plan, Barney.

- So you did.

- But will it work?

It's got to work.

Right.

- What do you call it when a shadow passes across the sun?

- We call it,

night time.

- Correct!

- No, that's not correct.

- An eclipse!

You call it an eclipse!

- An eclipse.

- Right. Next question.

- What sport do you associate with Cowes?

- Jumping over the moon.

- Cowes, c-o-w-e-s, the Isle of Wight.

Sailing!

- I'm tired, my brain's sore and I'm tired.

I want to go to bed.

- No, you are not going to bed

until you've answered one question.

Just one right answer.

Now, there was a prince

that was known

as The Young Pretender.

He led a Jacobite rebellion in 1745.

What was his name?

For the love of God, what was his name?

- It was.

- Yes?

- It was.

- Bo.

- Bo?

- Bo-o-o-o.

- Bob, Prince Bobo!

- What?

- That's what you said.

- No. Bonnie Prince Charlie.

Bo-nnie, not Bobo.

I've never heard of a Prince Bobo.

No one is called Bobo.

dear god.

- Hello.

Ah, Mr. Balfour.

That's very generous of you.

And of course, we agree.

- Well?

What did he say?

- Frankie can sing in the competition, if

we drop the general knowledge rule.

Yes!

- Yeah!

- Do you like that Macbeth?

- Yup.

- I think he's a numpty.

What do you say to that?

- I told you, you're entitled to your opinion,

even if it's wrong.

- Frankie, I've come up with a great scam.

It's like, you get to a rise at the whole world.

Ye in on it?

- What do you want to take a rise at the whole world for?

- I've got my reasons.

So, what do you say?

- Sounds interesting.

- Tomorrow, then.

- Hello Lachie. - Aye.

- How many cars are you expecting?

- Oh, a dozen or upwards, Hamish.

- These should just about do it.

Give us a shout if you need any more.

- Oh, thanks Hamish.

Oh, my dad, he mentioned this business about

Frankie and the singing contest.

.

Hiya.

- I just hope that Dunbracken crew don't come up with

any other impediment.

- No way.

Been through the rules with a fine tooth comb.

Nothing can go wrong.

- Boy.

Picked it up at a jumble sale.

I give you the Blind Boy, Frankie.

- What are you doing?

- Blind and homeless, blind and homeless!

- Tusker, stop this!

This is wrong.

- Thank you, sir or madam.

See, he didn't seem to mind.

- Blind and homeless, blind and homeless!

- Tusker, stop this, it stinks.

- Shut up, mate, just shut up.

If you're not gonna ball, then beat it.

- Hey you.

- Blind and homeless, blind and homeless!

- Oh no, Tusker, it's Hamish.

- So what, and I told ye,

it's not Tusker, it's Tommy.

Blind and homeless!

- Hey, I warned you about this.

What have I told you?

- You'll queer my pitch, constable.

- What the hell's going on here?

- Listen, you made me a promise.

You gave me your word.

- I had my fingers crossed.

Promises don't count when you give 'em with crossed fingers.

Every dumb wit knows that.

Blind and homeless!

- Listen, son, you better stop this right now,

or I'm gonna lose my patience with you.

- You do what he says, or you're out of my house,

and you're on your way home, I swear it.

- Are you gettin' this?

They're ganging up on me.

So, who you with?

I said, who you with, Frankie?

- I'm with you, Tommy.

- And you're lettin' them take me away?

- If you go, I go.

I'm sorry about this, Lachie,

but that's the way it is.

I was part of this too, Hamish.

If you lift Tommy, you have to lift me.

I'm going home.

Come on, Tommy.

I said, come on, Tommy!

- What are you gonna do, Hamish?

- Forget about it.

- Thanks, Hamish.

- For what?

Frankie's not part of this.

Kid's playing the loyalty card.

, pal.

- This is my place, who are you?

- Name's Tommy Gray.

- Can I have one?

- Sure.

- I'm Alfie Balfour.

- Ah, the singer.

- How did you know that?

- I'm a friend of Frankie Brice.

Hope that's okay.

- No problem.

You can tell him I think he'll win, by the way.

You can tell him I don't give a monkey's,

'cause I've already done twice before

and it's not worth the hassle.

- I'll tell him.

Can I have a shot?

- Here you go.

- Look out, there!

- For goodness sake!

- Speed demon going there, I've seen him before.

- And don't forget this lovely wedge, my darling.

- Have you thought about what

you're going to do with your winnings?

= Something sheer, I thought.

What about you?

- Yeah, I've been considering a radical change

in the underwear department, myself.

- You mean, out with the boxer shorts at last?

- And in with the pink, satin pouch,

just like you've always wanted.

Be still my beating heart.

- Good evening Mr. Meldon.

Just havin' a wee joke here, with Mrs. Meldon.

- Who's just finished polishing the

Willie McGraw trophy for the umpteenth time.

- Seeing as how it's going to be up on the shelf there,

for a year.

- I'll try my best, Agnes, my very best.

- That's all anyone can ask, young Frankie.

Now, what can I get you, a Coke?

- No thanks. I was looking for the doc.

- Over there, son. - Thanks.

Is that an--

- What?

No, no, no, no, no.

You don't, ah--

- No.

- Good.

So what can I do for you?

- What I want to know, Doc, is

can medicine change people?

I mean, my friend Tusker,

Tommy,

he's just not been the same person.

It's been Jeckyl and Hyde with him.

- It's possible, what kind of medicine is he taking?

- I wrote it down.

- No, don't know it.

You wouldn't happen to know who his doctor is, would you?

- Sure, same one I had.

Then write that down too, and I'll see if I can contact him.

- You're a gent, Doc.

- So, where are the boys, then?

- Oh, sleeping in.

- Oh, so it's

just you and me then?

- Of course it's just you and me.

Just you and me.

Right.

Just,

you and me.

- Well, you can bring it in to me, then.

My tea.

- Your wish is my command, oh great one.

In here.

- Hi Agnes.

What was taken?

- Just the trophy and the money, Hamish.

Whoever it was,

came in through the window in the gent's toilet.

And I think they slipped the latch with that.

I found it outside.

- Where's Barney?

- Well, as far as he's concerned,

this is the work of the Dunbracken crew.

He said he was going to raise an army to go over there.

- I can't see this belonging to a Dunbracken man, Hamish.

All these blades would only confuse them.

- Yeah, a Dunbracken man wouldn't have to search

for the trophy either, would he?

- Through the back.

- You can deal with this.

- Agnes.

- What the hell happened?

- We were sortin' out these thieving half-wits,

when they fell into Balfour's harem.

- My harem? What are you insinuating Meldon?

- I think you better get yourselves cleaned up,

and then we can see what's what around here.

Would you fancy a glass of lemonade or something, Agnes?

- Only if you're having one yourself, John.

- I think I might risk a pint of Balfour's watery beer.

- Well, I better go ahead, make sure the glasses are clean.

- There is no watery beer in my pub!

And there no dirty glasses!

- Oh, come and get cleaned up, like John said.

- Esme'll kill me when she sees the state of me.

She says I've got skin like a peach.

It's what turns her on, she says.

Now look at me, look, look, look.

- Ever seen this before?

- That's mine, Tommy gave it to me.

- Hamish, Frankie didn't take the money.

Why would he do that, you know him.

- You went out late last night,

thought I was asleep.

When he came back,

seen him put something in his drawer.

- Tusker!

You're a liar.

- Thomas, what are you saying?

Do you mind if I have a look inside the drawer?

- Look all you want.

- It's the bottom drawer, Hamish.

- Auntie Jean, I never took it.

Lachie, I swear.

For god's sake, Hamish, Jean said it,

you know the boy.

- I know, and I know he didn't take this.

Whoever broke into the hotel

had to search the lounge bar first.

Frankie wouldn't do that.

He knew exactly where the trophy was.

In fact, I doubt there's a person in the entire district

who wouldn't know exactly where the trophy was.

Whoever broke in was a stranger.

A stranger that could get close enough

to Frankie to steal his pen knife.

Do you mind if I look in your things, son?

His things are over here, Hamish.

- Tusker!

- Told you, it's not Tusker, it's Tommy.

- Get him out of here please, Hamish.

- I want my parents to know everything I did here.

- Can I get the next train?

- Yeah, there's one at five.

- Come on, I'll take you to the station.

- No.

I don't want anybody with me, Jean.

- Nice bit of police work that, Hamish.

- Aye.

How come I don't feel that pleased with myself, then?

What do you want?

Where's Macbeth?

- Ahhh, Mr. Balfour.

- Something stinks here.

The story is that young Brice is off the hook,

because you say the Stag Bar was turned over by a stranger.

Someone who didn't know where to find the trophy.

- That's right, Thomas Gray.

- Tell him boy.

- The other boy, Tommy.

He knew where the trophy's kept.

He asked me and I told him.

- Then why in god's name did he search the place, Hamish?

- Maybe young Frankie did the deed himself,

and then faked the search to throw suspicion

on this other boy.

Well, that's my hypotenuse.

- Rubbish. - Hamish.

- Not now, Doc, I'm busy.

- Tusker Gray, is he here?

- What do you want him for?

Just treat him carefully, Hamish.

- Why?

- That boy is seriously ill.

- What?

- I made a call to his doctor.

Young Frankie was concerned about him.

It's doubtful whether that boy will see his 18th birthday.

- No.

- My thoughts exactly.

Hamish?

- On the basis of what you just told me,

I could be about to screw up big time.

So if you're lying, your singing days are over.

- I'm tellin' the truth.

- I just spoke to young Alfie Balfour.

- Who's he?

- You know who he is.

You know, this doesn't really add up, does it?

You knew exactly where the money was because

Alfie told you.

Yet you still searched the lounge bar.

You never took anything.

You just searched, just

left things lying around for me to find and come over,

all policeman-like.

That's what you did, innit?

You left me a clue.

Exposed yourself as a thief.

Worse, exposed yourself as a thief that would

try and shift the blame on his best pal.

I know you're ill, Thomas.

I know how ill.

And I think you know as well, is that right?

How did you find out about that kind of thing?

- I listen at the door.

You hear them crying.

- What, your mum and dad?

- That's right.

- Listen, if I promise not to breathe a word about this,

do you think you could, maybe, tell me the truth.

- Solemn promise?

- Absolutely.

You think that when the time comes,

it's going to be easier on Frankie if he hates you,

is that what you think?

- I tried to turn him against me,

to make him call me Tommy.

Then I was bad mouthing Mr. McCrae.

Then you,

next it was the begging scam.

But nothing worked.

So I did the robbery.

- And you intend doing the same thing to your parents,

make them hate you?

- Worked here, dinnit?

- You know, if you don't mind me saying,

I don't think your plan really makes an awful lot of sense.

I mean, you think Frankie's walking about just now,

hating your guts.

Well, for my money, he's going to be pretty hurt.

Wondering what he did to deserve this.

Feeling all the things that you thought you were

going to spare him.

But bad as that, Frankie's not the real worry here.

The worry's your parents.

If you do this thing, you're going to destroy them.

Sure as you and me are standing here.

Can I go for my train now?

- So, it's you, is it?

Blind Boy Tusker Gray, himself.

Well, well, well.

- Sorry about that.

- And so you should be.

Well, get on if you're getting on.

I'm not going to bite you.

- I think I'll stay here a wee while longer, Mr. McClintock.

As you wish.

All aboard!

That was a close one, think?

Ah, it was close.

- But you did it, thank you.

What an idiot you are, Tusker.

- You promised.

Well done, boy!

- Good luck.

- Thanks.

- It's in the bag, my man.

It's in the bag.

Yeah!