All language subtitles for The.Completely.Made-Up.Adventures.of.Dick.Turpin.S01E04.WEB.x264-TORRENTGALAXY_eng

Stand and deliver.

Your money or your-- Geoffrey.

Wow.

Actually,
today doesn't really work for me.

I've done my back in,

so I can't really stand.

What about "crouch and deliver"?
Has anyone ever done that?

Nell, could he crouch and deliver?

Crouch, squat,
jump up and down, I don't care.

- Just open the cart.
- No. I wouldn't rob this if I was you.

I'm actually transporting the Reddlehag.

The Reddlehag? Who's that?

Well, she's basically an evil witch
who sucks men's souls and women's.

Yeah, 'cause, you know,
she's not that fussy.

Come on, Geoffrey. Witches don't exist.

They're just a mixture of
superstition, misogyny

and a fear of what we don't understand.

No. She's genuinely a witch.

Or a trend-bucking freethinker like me.

No. She's a witch.

Boss, quick sidebar.

Now, you know I support you 1000%,

but witches are my all-time biggest fear.

Me too. Because when I was 12,
I got cursed by a witch.

My voice went deep.

I got taller.
Hair started happening everywhere.

Okay, here's a kind of radical idea.

Instead of a sort of weird,
witchy adventure,

why don't we rob some...
Oh, God, what's it called again?

- Oh, yeah. Money.
- No.

Moose, you gotta face your fears.
Honesty, that was puberty.

And, Nell, not everything's about money.

I mean, maybe this lady needs our help.

Let me deal with this.

Can't breathe. I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

You've rescued me. Thank you so much.

I was so terrified.

So terrified.

Your faces.

You're like, "Oh, no.
Oh, no. She can't breathe."

Of course, I can breathe.

Fire!

What the hell?

Okay, guys, I've reassessed the situation.

I think she might be a witch after all.

Yeah. I did say that. Yeah.

Stay calm, everyone!

This is a routine magical lockdown.

- Stay home. Save lives.
- Everybody, panic!

A big, red, fiery witch
is gonna kill us all!

I have no idea what's happening.

I repeat.
I have no idea what the hell is going on.

Meaty treats, all you can eat.

Steaks so rare
they're practically a collector's item.

Dad, you've got to get inside.
The Reddlehag's on the loose.

That's just what
they want you to think, Son.

Reddlehag's just a ruse
made up by the powers that be

to make us let them take away our freedom.

Your idiot son released her.

Believe that if you want.

No witch's curse is as harmful as
not being able to hug your grandchildren.

You don't have any grandchildren.

Yes, whose fault is that?

I've always dreamed of
a grandchild to inherit my cleavers.

Quick, to The Ruin.

Sausages for freedom.

Come on out and eat 'em.

Don't you need to be inside
for that to work?

Oh, no. Now I'm more exposed than ever.

Okay.

I got hagstones to ward her off,

pentagrams to sanctify the space
and red pepper hummus for self-defense.

Everyone knows witches hate hummus.

And I'm gonna hang this sign on the door
and change it from "open" to "closed."

What? That won't work on witches.

- Why? They can read, can't they?
- We're all gonna die.

Can't they?

Okay, supernatural lock-in.

If you're sheltering here,
it's a five-drink minimum.

And it's unhappy hour. Prices are double.

Thanks for letting us stay, Little Karen.

If there's any way we can repay you--
I mean, not money obviously.

Still pretty bad at robbing coaches.

Well, you can capture that witch
for a start.

Sales have plummeted.

Even Alf's had to cancel
his life drawing classes.

I'm sorry to hear that, Alf.

Worse for Tony, to be honest.

Okay, so we're hiding in a pub,

which is a great strategy
for a surprise party

but less so for fighting a witch.

Well, we don't have to fight her, Nell.

We could reason with her.

She's pretty stylish.
We could exchange fashion tips.

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

You can't reason with her, Turpin.

She works for the devil himself.

Okay, I've got her case file here, right?

Apparently, if she chooses your village,

she'll then suck the soul out of everyone
who lives there.

And I did not know that.

I mean, you don't seem very worried.

No.

Well, technically, right,
I reside in Jersey for tax purposes.

So it doesn't actually affect me.

Fair enough.

Well, maybe she didn't choose our village.

Maybe she flew around our village
and went on holiday instead,

to the Seychelles.

Actually, I think that might be her.

Thank you, Dick.
I don't know what we'd do without you.

The Reddlehag.

She's real.

Hello.

Oh, my God. Did she just vaporize George?

- What?
- Oh, yeah.

She also turns people into chickens. Yeah.

Chickens?

Well, it's any flightless bird,
to be honest with you.

Emus, dodoes, peacocks,
penguins, emperor penguins, dead pigeons.

But as I say, you know, mainly chickens.

I hate chickens.

Beady-eyed monsters
with their jerky bodies.

I mean, this just gets worser and worser.

No, it's all right.

It says here, right, she can't be invited
in unless we speak her name 27 times.

Great. So all we have to do
is not say Reddlehag 27 times.

Not like Reddlehag's even a common word.

I mean, you have to go out
of your way to say Reddlehag.

Wait, what does Reddlehag actually mean?

Interesting bit of trivia.

The reddle in Reddlehag
is actually from a dye,

and the hag is obviously, you know, a hag.

So it's reddle, hag.

Reddlehag.

Yeah, has anyone noticed we've
just started saying Reddlehag a lot?

We haven't said Reddlehag that many times.

I mean, I said Reddlehag.
Moose said Reddlehag.

Honesty, you definitely said Reddlehag.

And Geoffrey said Reddlehag a few times.

And then you said Reddlehag.

And then you just said Reddlehag
a load more times.

Oh, my God.

What are we doing?

I think we just entered the teens.

Okay, stop panicking.
All we have to do is not say Reddlehag.

You just said Reddlehag.

Okay, that's a great example
of what we're not supposed to do.

What are we not supposed to do?

- Say Reddlehag.
- Reddlehag.

No, don't say Reddlehag.

Well, why would you tell me
to say Reddlehag

if you didn't want me to say Reddlehag?

I didn't tell you to say Reddlehag.

You said Reddlehag when I was
telling you not to say Reddlehag.

Oh, my God. I can't stop saying it.

Okay, I think we just reached
a critical point.

So nobody say Reddleh--

Nobody say that word again.

Okay. It's not that hard, is it?

Guys, you've gotta be careful.
There's a witch outside.

- She's called the--
- No, no, no.

I can't remember.

Stay safe, yeah?

Thank God.

For a minute, I thought he
was gonna say Reddlehag.

Did somebody say my name?

Get her, Nell!

What?

You got something in your teeth.

This is nice, isn't it?

It's been ages since I been in a boozer.

What shall I have?

I know.

I'll have a pint of souls!

Don't worry, guys. I got this.

Hi. Dick Turpin.

We met earlier actually.

Oh, yeah.

Couldn't help overhearing
that you were after some souls.

Love souls, very moreish.

I wonder if I could tempt you
into having something else?

Maybe a champagne cocktail.

We don't do champagne cocktails.

Vodka, lime and soda?

- Those can be fun.
- Dick, you know we only have beer.

Kill me.

Okay, what about beer?

Ice-cold beer, slide into a booth,
shoot the breeze.

Keep those beers coming.

I mean, not all night.
I've got stuff to do in the morning.

All right.

Really?

Little Karen, two beers.

And will you be paying for that?

Yeah, just put it on my tab.

What tab? Hang on, you don't have a tab.

- Can we talk about this later?
- Not really.

Sort of got a situation going on.

There you go.
Lovely ice-cold beer. Cheers.

- Nice head.
- Me or the beer?

That is rank. Yuck!

I'll change the barrels again.

Why would you give me generic lager?

I'm so sorry.

I just don't know what I was thinking.
I panicked.

Okay, let's change tack slightly.

Do you fancy a latte?

Stick to what you know!

I know what I'll have. Your soul.

Your soul. Your soul.

Not yours.

And a packet of pork scratchings, please.

See? I knew it worked on witches.

Guys, we got a problem.

You're tickling.

You know I can break out of
these ropes anytime I want.

Can't be bothered.

Shut up.

You turn Dick back into Dick,
or you're dead-lehag.

Sorry. Dick is?

This poor, beautiful man that you
turned into an appalling, pecky monster.

And don't pretend it's not him, yeah?
'Cause we can see the eggs he's laying.

Oh, him. Your boyfriend.

I turned the man you love into a chicken,
and you're angry.

I get it.

He's not my boyfriend.
He's not the man I love.

- Yeah, you fancy him though, don't you?
- I don't fancy him.

- Yes, you do.
- I don't.

- Yes, you do.
- No, I don't.

It's obvious, isn't it? It's obvious.

- It may be a little bit actually.
- No, stop it.

- No.
- Now, let's have some fun. Come on.

When you gonna burn me?

Chase me around with pitchforks,
dunk me in water, torture me.

Oi, bum face. You might enjoy that.

Nell, she's doing scary eyes.

I'm not. Oh, my God.
He's so oversensitive.

She's doing them right now.

Dick, don't look.

It's really freaking me out.

Will you chill out, please?
I swear I'm not doing anything.

Now, come on, burn me.

Burn me, burn me, burn me,

- burn me, burn me, burn me.
- Oh, my God. You are so irritating.

Burn me.

Okay, I think we should kill her.

There's a fireplace there.

It's quite small, but we can put her feet
in it and kind of fan the flames.

I wouldn't do that if I was you.

If you kill her, her magic dies too and
your boyfriend remains a chicken forever.

He's not my boyfriend.

Forever?

You mean he'll be an immortal chicken?

No, forever as in
the average life span of a chicken.

Okay, what's that?

About five to ten years in the wild
and up to two years in captivity.

You know, depending on
whether he's a layer or a broiler.

So if we kill her, we lose Dick.

But if we don't,
she'll send us all to hell.

I mean, that's a no-brainer.

Get her in the fire.

Well said.

The boss has spoken.

Fine.

We'll get Dick back,
and then we'll burn her.

But if I end up in hell,
I'm gonna be absolutely furious.

I've got the best idea. Let's go to Craig.

- He'll know what to do.
- Yeah.

I mean, he definitely won't,
but it's worth a try.

Okay, you two go
and don't forget Chick Turpin.

I thought we agreed on Dick Chirpin'.

They both work. Hurry up.

And what about us?
We've still got a witch in the pantry.

Yeah, but it's fine.

We just have to make sure no one
kills her until they get back.

It's easy.
It's not like anyone knows she's here.

We know you've got the Reddlehag in there.

You've got two minutes to bring her out
for immediate burning.

Burn the witch! Burn the witch!

Get a move on, Craig. Haven't got all day.

Here we go.

Okay.

Eye of toad, nose of badger,
dash of soya sauce.

Three tears of a virgin.

Three drops, not mine. It's my mate's.

And voilà!

Your pouring technique's sloppy.

Color's a bit gray.

Not much of a love potion.

More of a "love spending time
with you but just as friends" potion.

Still, I suppose it'll do.

- Just.
- Thank you.

Now for the moment of truth.

One of us is gonna have to try this.

Either way, it's gonna get awkward.

Come near me and it's an instant fail.

- Sorry.
- Craig!

Craig! We need your help.

Who are you? These are exam conditions.

Yeah, but there's an evil witch out
there that wants to suck our souls.

And worse, she's turned Dick
into an horrible chicken.

Guys, honestly not a good time.

This is Maureen from the Warlock Council.
Okay?

I'm having my test for my magic license.

Yeah, for the seventh time.

Your uncle passed first go. Embarrassing.

Magic license? What are you talking about?

You do magic stuff all the time.

- I mean, we've seen you.
- You got explosions...

- I mean, you do spells. Potions.
- ...smoke, fires cracking.

Shut up! Allegations. Not true.

I would never practice magic
without a license. That's illegal.

What are you writing down?
Don't write any of that down.

Guys, look. I'd love to help,

but Maureen's time is more important
to me, so I c--

Actually, this is the perfect opportunity
to assess your magical competency.

Or lack thereof.

Turn your friend back, capture the witch.

- Clock starts now.
- Sure.

Easy-peasy. Broomstick ride in the park.

I know what I'm doing.

I do not know what I'm doing.

Burn the witch! Burn the witch!

- We're closed!
- Yeah, for a wedding.

- And a funeral.
- And a christening.

- Same family. Emotional roller-coaster.
- No.

Where is the Reddlehag?

- Reddlehag?
- What Reddlehag?

- There's no Reddlehag in here.
- I've never even heard of a Reddlehag.

Cooey!

My ears are burning!

Burn the witch! Burn the witch!

There's actually nothing
to see through here.

I don't know why you all
are coming over here.

- Hiya.
- Burn the witch!

Yeah. I know what this looks like.

But this is not the Reddlehag.

So why is she all red?

Red is very in this season.

Why are her eyes glowing
demonically in a witchlike fashion?

- Allergies or something like that.
- She's in league with the devil!

Hey, I'm not in league with the devil!

Do we have chemistry?

Did we hook up in Hades?

You'd have to ask him.

Burn the hag!

Finally.

- Burn the witch! Burn the witch!
- Wait, stop.

I mean,
you can't burn a witch without a trial.

That is true. Fine.

We'll-- First we'll hold a trial,

and then we'll burn the hag!

Okay. One Dick Turpin coming up.

There we go. Almost there.

Almost there?

He's a bloody Spaniel.

At least he's vegan now.

Stand and deliver.

Silver lining: it's definitely him.

Absolute incompetence.

Guys, this is the best thing
I've ever seen in my life.

I can see Hempstead. I can see Nell.

Be careful with that crystal ball,
I haven't finished paying for it yet.

Let me see that.

It's not Hempstead, it's just
a bunch of people playing football!

Yeah, there's a game going on
in South End.

I was flicking between the two.

Well, switch it back to the Reddlehag!

- I want to see the Reddlehag!
- Wait.

What are you doing, man?

The Reddlehag?

I'm supposed to capture the Reddlehag?

Well, this'll be interesting.

I hereby call this court to order.

My name is Lord Alistair Montgomery
Nigel Dephefil Rookwood XXXIII.

I'll be your judge today.

What's he even doing here?

He insists on judging every witch trial
in the area.

His favorite hobby.

We are here to determine
whether that woman,

who is definitely the Reddlehag,
is in fact the Reddlehag.

Yeah, I think you mean her.

Oh, yes, I mean that woman.

How do you plead?

Please don't kill me.

Please have mercy...

I don't know. I've never done it.

I mean guilty or not guilty.

Guilty. Obviously!

She means not guilty. Not guilty.

And, come on, how is this a fair trial?

The jury's that mob from before.

And we're going to convict!

Burn the hag! Burn the hag!

Don't worry.

No one cares about justice more than I.

Hence why I've assumed the role
of your fair and impartial judge.

And also prosecutor.

Let the trial begin.

Please state your name, occupation,
and place of work.

Geoffrey the Jailer, jailer, jail.

And can you identify the Reddlehag?

Yeah, it's her, the one who
keeps saying she's the Reddlehag.

That's me. He means me.

No further questions, Your Honor.

Very well, keep things moving.

Yes, of course, Your Honor. Next witness!

Her. She turned into fire and flew around.

- It was all quite triggering.
- He loved it.

I drew a picture of her.

Obsessed.

I was just here
for the life drawing class.

Her! She's the witch! Right there!

Little Karen,
we're trying to save Dick's life!

Sorry, got carried away.
Never been a witness before.

In conclusion, she's definitely a witch
and we should definitely burn her.

Also, discount meat treats are available.

Toast a kebab as you roast a Reddlehag.

Objection. Bribery.

Overruled.

Thank you, Your Honor.
You're more than welcome.

And with that, I rest my case.

It's not looking good for you, is it?

And you can't win against free sausages.

Maybe I don't have to win,
just introduce an element of doubt.

I call John Turpin to the stand.

So, the Reddlehag can't
claim the souls of an innocent.

So what she does, she comes to town,
she does a little bit of low-key magic.

A chicken here, a chicken there.

And then a mob forms to burn her.

And when they do, she--

- Cover little Dick's ears.
- Okay.

She takes her demon form
and claims the souls for the devil.

So if she gets burned, Hempstead's doomed.

I mean, why don't you try
leading with that, you weirdo?

I was trying to do
a performance for, you know...

- How was that, Maureen? Was that good?
- Wasn't great.

We have to warn Nell.

I haven't turned Dick back.

- You can do it on the way.
- Hey, watch it, you're crushing the silk.

Sorry, boss.

So, John Turpin, you accused my client
of being the Reddlehag?

Correct?

I know what's what with witches
and what's a witch.

I should, too.
I was married to one for eight years.

Nice one.

So, this isn't the first witch
you've accused?

Hey, don't hag-shame him.

Well?

My suspicions might have been
previously aroused.

Hands up, anyone in here who's been
accused of being a witch by John Turpin.

He used rosemary in a sausage.

- Witches love herbs.
- That is true, I am a flavor fiend.

So, you have a history of
casual witch accusations.

But why?

Could it be that every time there's
a witch-burning, sausage sales go up?

It's just a "coink-idence."
Sausages are very good on a barbecue.

Or you deliberately accuse innocent,
if admittedly very guilty-seeming women,

of witchcraft to drive up sales
in a meat-flogging ploy!

That is a vile conspiracy!

Save it for the courts!

This is the court.

Yep, that's right.
In which case, carry on.

Well, this is all rather compelling.

But I think we all just want
to burn a witch.

So, I find her guilty.

Yes. Victory for justice and sausages!

Which, by the way,
are still available at a discount rate.

And burn her too.

- Just to be sure.
- What?

Anyone defending a witch
must be a witch too.

It's basic witch logic.

What have I done?

Stake time, stake time,

- stake time!
- Burn the witch!

Get off me!

I'm not a witch!

I'm not--

- Burn the witch! Burn the witch!
- Another day, another pyre!

Wait!

You can't kill that witch.

Wait, who the hell are you?

Dick Turpin, obviously.

Sorry. Nearly there.

He was a child a minute ago,
I just went a bit too far the other way.

Are you warm enough, boss?

Would you like a hot-water bottle?

Hurry up already!
I'm about to be burned to death up here.

Yeah, sorry, okay. One more go.
Just give me one more go.

Okay.

Is it important that he stays a man?

Oh, for God's sake, here.

Oh, that is horrendous.

That is deeply troubling.

- Bosh. There we are.
- Thanks, Maureen.

You're not gonna mark me down for that,
are you?

Well, I'm not gonna mark you up.

- I'm back.
- Yes.

Everybody, listen.

You can't kill the witch,
she's trying to trick us.

She wants to be burned. Isn't that right?

If we burn her,
she'll become more powerful than ever.

Seriously, if you want to survive,
you have to let her live.

I know it sounds weird,
but you've got to believe me.

Burn the witch! Burn the witch!

Yeah, I think that went pretty well.

Oh, yeah. Absolutely brilliant.

Yeah, I'm sorry.
I'm having a stressful day.

I was a chicken for most of it.

- Burn the hag! Burn the hag!
- Burn the hag!

No!

I'm not losing Dick again,
we only just got him back!

No, it's all right.
He's giving a big inspirational speech.

That's already happened.

I think there might be a delay.

- Craig, do something.
- I can't.

In order to trap a witch, you need a--

you need a real warlock,
and that's just not me.

As much as I sympathize,
I've already helped out once.

You're on your own.

No. I'm not letting the greatest man
in the world be burned!

Or Nell.

Look, you may not be a proper warlock,
all right?

You may be a pathetic, bucktoothed,
lonely little weirdo.

But you're our friend.

And for some strange reason,
we believe in you.

So pull yourself together

and stop this witch!

May I just say, you have a lovely village.

And it's my honor to ignite
your inaugural Reddlehag witch-burning.

This is a nightmare.
Dad, can you not help?

In a minute, Son.

Just trying to maximalize my profits.

I might be dead in a minute.

Let the burning commence.

Right, I need a goat's foot, twelve rose
petals, and three teaspoons of dry sage.

Stat!

I've got one pig's trotter, two dead
daffodils and some herbes de Provence.

Okay, that'll have to do.

And for the love of God, can someone
please get me my red pepper hummus?

I knew it worked on witches.

No, not for the spell, I just get
a little bit wobbly when I haven't eaten.

The Reddlehag,
can I ask you a final question?

I mean, you're flying around the place,
you're sucking people's souls.

You don't seem very happy.

Are you okay?

I mean, I don't know.
I'm a hag, I'm a demonic hag.

That's what I do, that's what I am.

Yeah, I understand but, I mean,
what's in it for you?

Fame, power, opportunities for travel,
great costume,

unfettered by the physical
boundaries of the known universe.

Fair enough.

Well, I wouldn't normally ask,
but could you set us free?

I can't believe I'm doing this.

All right, Dick Turpin
and what's-her-face,

your souls are safe with me.

Really?

Of course not, you doughnuts!

I'm pure evil!

Stop!

Let my friends go, Reddlehag!

I'm not scared of you anymore!

Moose, I should do it
'cause I'm the warlock. I'm the warlock.

- Oh, yeah, sorry.
- Thank you.

Begone, witch!

- No!
- Gotcha!

Got her!

I can feel her in there!

She's scuttling about!

Yes, Craig!

Come on!

She's shrinking! She's gone.

Well played. Well...

It's a delay, there's a delay.

Congratulations, Craig,
you'll make a warlock yet.

You mean, I've got my warlock license?

Oh, God no.
You committed 173 major errors.

Your best score yet.

So I'll see you next year for your resit.

Idiot.

I'll take that.

I think she needs to be
kept away from wallies like you.

Where will you take her?

Somewhere she can no longer
harm innocent people.

I'm thinking one of the Balearic Islands.

Not Ibiza, please.

Guys, I'm so proud of you,
especially you, Moose.

You really faced your fears.

I didn't think I could do it without you, boss.

But I am a strong, independent highwayman.

Now, never leave me again.

So, what was it like, Dick?
Being a chicken?

Yeah, it's pretty much the same.
Laying eggs is a little bit painful.

Speaking of which...

Wow.

Dad, it looks like you might
have a grandchild after all.

So, Turpin defeated the Reddlehag.

Impressive.

His legend only grows.

Of course,
to really get to know one's opponents,

it helps to have a spy in the camp.

But would it have killed you
to get dressed before reporting back?

I actually find this quite liberating.

You don't have to look at it.

Funny, isn't it?

What a little digging can turn up.

Hello, Nell.

How lovely to see you again.