All language subtitles for Up The Women - S01 - E03

Now there was a suffer jet, almost the last alive.

Now there was a suffer jet, over 95.

She's high and most small women.

These just are beginning.

You haven't seen anything yet.

Now there was a suffer jet.

Ah, good afternoon Thomas.

Welcome to the jam sale.

Yes, unfortunately I don't have any jam.

But I have made this.

Oh, what is it?

Well, it will assist us in showing the dough

that every haven he counts.

Perhaps you might call it a visual chart

for the calculation of total funds, or some such.

Wonderful idea.

How does it work?

You ask me how much we have raised thus far.

I refer to this, and I tell you.

How much are we raised thus far?

Um...

Nuppens.

What a clever thing.

Well done.

Ooh, why are the first one?

Er, no, I believe that would be me.

Thomas?

Yes.

Oh, no!

Oh, I didn't bring any jam.

I'm so sorry.

Moderation ate all the gooseberries,

and then John filled the rest of the dress with tadpoles.

I'm gonna pour a grill.

Eva, Master Gresham.

Er, I brought my jam.

Oh, good.

Shall I talk you through?

Yes. Please, Gwen.

At, er, Strawberry Jam?

Yes.

Phone Jam?

Er...

Right, yes.

Thank you, Gwen. Well done.

I just don't understand jam sales.

What, don't you understand, Eva?

Well, we're making jam to sell to each other

to raise money for ourselves.

Yes?

So, why do we just give the money to ourselves

and not bother with the jam business?

That means I have to just say such a thing.

Well, I'm sure if I ask,

Charlie, just give us a guinea.

Just give us a guinea.

A jam sale is not just a way of raising funds, Eva.

It is a bonding, unifying activity.

A way of creating passion and interest in our cause.

These jars of jam will cohesal group

and galvanise the wider society.

Goodness, Margaret.

I had no idea how important my jam was.

If I'd known, I'd have brought my jam to them.

And you managed the jam store, Thomas.

Yes, I think so.

Afternoon, ladies.

Thomas, there's a letter for you.

It's got a London postmark.

The return address is WSPU, Kekstan Hall, London.

It's from the Women's Social Political Union.

Goodness, Margaret. How exciting!

The WSPU.

What was that?

I'm not sure.

Emily in Pankhurst.

Oh, open it, Margaret. Open it.

I'm here. I'm here.

Apologies for my mild tardiness.

We are just returned from luncheon

with the smooths of Sheffield.

Yes. These smooths.

Oh, Emily, I love your hair like that.

I hate it.

John T. Smoothe was there, of course.

He was quite taken with Emily's recital.

What did you think?

Some held a guard of Bingen.

Oh, I adore held a guard of Bingen.

Was it the canticles of ecstasy?

Oh, oh, oh, oh.

No, 11,000 virgins.

Oh, I adore that one, too.

So, who's this junty smooth?

Only Sheffield's most eligible bachelor,

heir to the smooth spoon manufacturing empire.

Some half which he barely knows.

No, that takes me back to my court in days.

We're not courting.

Oh, Emily.

Margaret just has a letter from the...

The WW... What was it, Margaret?

And the Emily Pankhurst Society.

Really?

Is she coming to your jam sale?

Why on earth would she write to you?

Well, after the runaway success of our March on the Post Office,

I wrote to her Emily in Pankhurst,

courtesy of the Women's Social and Political Union,

informing her of our little band-bridge suffrage group.

I hoped for nothing more than a profunctory note of acknowledgement.

I've never expected her apply.

What did you write to her, Margaret?

Oh, just a 15-page letter with diagrams and a comical poem about suffragettes.

You wrote a comical poem?

Yes, I did, actually. It's called Proud to Be a Suffragette.

Do you want to hear it?

Is it long?

LAUGHTER

Oh, let me see if I can remember it.

Proud to be a suffragette, we fight to find our rights well met.

We climb on chairs and stand on soapbox.

We'll never be the one, you outfox.

We march and sing from dawn to dusk

and call to ask with our votes a must.

What did you call that?

I thought you said it was comical.

LAUGHTER

Yes, that's not comical, more light-hearted.

It gets funnier later.

How?

Oh, well, verse 14 is very funny.

LAUGHTER

Do share.

You shackled us to our wifely duties.

Now we're marching in our booties.

LAUGHTER

Shout to government.

Enough's enough.

You must give in or we'll get rough.

Although within the bounds of law, we're suffragettes.

Now, here us war.

I don't see how that's any funnier.

Well, the booty's is funny, isn't it?

No.

Oh, do read the reply mark, right?

Oh, um...

Dear Mrs. Umman, that's me.

Mrs. Emmeline Pankhurst

thanks you for your letter and has asked me to convey

that though she very much enjoyed your poem,

she felt she should point out it was not strictly speaking comical.

LAUGHTER

However, in co-insidence with Mrs. Pankhurst's impending tour

of Oxfordshire next Wednesday, our esteemed leader

and a small phalanx of our closest left tenants

would be delighted to attend a rally of your suffrage society

with a view to interrupting your group officially into the ranks

of the WSPU.

Oh, left tenants.

Now, I don't think they're those kinds of left tenants,

Myrtle, more lady tenants.

Well, any port in the storm.

Emily and Pankhurst is coming here.

Yes.

Next Wednesday.

Oh, goodness.

And she wants to make us one of her.

Is this so exciting?

Don't you get excited, Emily.

This time next Wednesday you will be visiting the spoon manufacturing plant

of the Sheffield Smooths.

I will not.

I am your left tenant in January.

He invited me to his barracks where he taught me chess

and I would often play late into the night with his privates.

I'll have to spruce up the hall, varnish the floors,

fix that wobbly cobble on the path.

Ford your new weather vein in the shape of Pankhurst's face?

Yes.

Excellent idea, Helen.

Can we do that, Mr Millen?

Oh, er...

I'll talk to Bert.

The Colliery Band.

That's what we need to lead a welcome parade.

Mr Sweet with his euphonium.

He's got the fastest fingers in Bamburi.

Oh, you miss, introduce me.

Yes.

Us.

We, all of us.

Not me.

Not Helen.

Dressed as a living tableau about standing women through the ages.

You, Gwynn, the Joan of Arc.

You, Eva, the Virgin Mary.

And you, Myrtle, Catherine the Great.

Can't I be the Queen of Sheba?

Yes, yes, why not?

I knew Margaret as Queen Bodicea.

Or Barbara Grant.

Miss Barbara Grant.

Oh, she wrote an epoch-defining article on the Rules of Lighthouse Maintenance in 1864.

She rewrote the rule book on rule books.

Might I be part of this tableau?

Oh, well, it's for outstanding women, Thomas. Sorry.

Yes. Yes, I think I see.

Though perhaps I might compose a piece for the Colliery Band.

I have been toying with some movements in the Pentateonic scale.

Quite revolutionary.

Oh, yes, oh, yes.

Margaret, if there's going to be music, I could get my little rabbits to do gymnastics display.

They could do their human pyramid.

On the bottom, you are Liberty, Charity, Patience, Providence, Prudence.

On top of that, Justina, Ernestino, Constance, Clemens.

On top of that, Chastie, Virginity, Absner's.

And on top, moderation.

Like a little fat cherry.

And, uh, where's John?

Oh, we just dress him up as a pharaoh and let him run around.

Such a shame you shan't be here to welcome Emmeline Pankhurst, Helen.

Won't be the same without you.

It's pathetic.

Well, this fuss just because Goulden Girl is coming to Banbury.

Goulden Girl?

Oh.

Goulden was her maiden name.

We were at school together.

You were at school with Emmeline Pankhurst.

I only just worry all the more.

Why didn't you tell us?

Well, I know.

She was eminently forgettable.

A mousy little thing, plain and stout, with a shrill little laugh.

She had to be best at everything and she would trill around the corridors in toning,

Carmen in that tinny vibrato of hers.

I barely remember her at all.

She sounds enchanting.

Well, she wasn't.

She couldn't even tie a bow.

Nor can I.

She was left-handed.

So am I.

Well, extremely weak at napkin folding.

I also...

You think she has many friends?

I wonder if she and I might start a correspondence.

I could perhaps praysy my essay on female physiognomy and give it to her.

And she and I could discuss it at length.

I mean, I said you won't bombard her or monopolize her.

Oh, there's no fear of that.

I imagine she would dislike you intensely.

You are exactly the sort of girl that she would sneer at and pick on.

Goodness, really? No.

Did she?

Was she? I believe.

No, no, no. Not that.

Oh, oh, everybody. Oh!

What is it, Gwen?

Mrs. Pankhurst's letter at state of the 30th of March.

And over a fact, that was a week ago because Mother has her ear syringe that day every year.

And also it's my birthday.

Is the your birthday, Gwen?

No, that letter was written a week ago.

She's right.

Mrs. Pankhurst is coming today.

She's at four o'clock.

Oh, oh. Nobody panic.

Everybody stay. Nobody stay. Absolutely calm.

Well, you're cells together.

She's just another minor's daughter on the make.

Now, with the chair, please.

You're moving them.

I don't know.

Breathe. Margaret, breathe.

I can't. I can't.

Right. Hands above your head.

It's not helping.

Hands down.

Thank you, Hannah.

Not at all.

Oh, it would be well.

Oh, it would be well.

There goes our tableau.

No, no, Matt, it will go ahead.

Milly abridged.

We may have to lose some outstanding women, but the message will shine through.

Shall I see if any of the marching band boys are about now?

I can make my ten minute trifle. It only takes ten minutes.

I'll make it in the colours of suffragism.

Excellent. What are they?

Purple, white, and green.

What about the costumes for the tableau?

I shall cohese and glove an eyes Margaret.

Oh, we need a sheets and ivy.

Well done, quite excellent.

Oh, haven't any ivy?

Oh, sheets?

We do.

We have a whole bundle of old linen.

We'll be taking to the workhouse, don't we, mother?

I'll go and get it.

I can come and help you.

No, you will not.

I shall fetch them.

Oh, thank you, Helen.

I'll get my trifle started.

Emily, wait in the kitchen with Gwen.

I will need an exotic haunting intro.

And a veil.

I can play this.

Perhaps you could play the arrival of the Queen of Sheba by Handel.

Do you know it?

I think so.

If you have to try just slower, more hauntingly.

I like your hair, Emily.

I hate it.

I can't bear the tush and we use Emily in pink hers

so we can make a trust up chicken.

Why miss women slavishly adorn themselves like painted mannequins?

May I help you?

Oh, yes, please.

Could you two crumble a sponge?

I know you've got your best rock on Emily, but I'm in such a rush.

I'm having a duck of lavender food colour into the sephrage custard.

How clever of you, Gwen.

This crumbly sponge is like the merciless sand dunes of an endless desert between me and the ocean.

Purple custard!

You would be surprised.

Thomas, we're in need of your musical prowess.

Excuse me, Gwen?

Yes, Emily.

Are you excited about singing, Gwen?

Yes, Emily.

Do you hope she likes my trifle?

I hate mother.

Emily, you shouldn't say such a thing.

Why? It's true. She's horrible.

Beastie, look at this stupid hair.

Shove me it's squinty face boys who make jokes about poor people.

Oh, Emily.

If only you knew how lucky you were.

Oh, world ahead of you.

Sooters lining up left, right and centre.

Wedding bed.

Children.

Those are the things that dreams are made of.

Not my dreams, Gwen.

Not mine.

I had one proposal from Kenneth Hillingdon.

There's not a day goes by that I don't relive that moment.

Him holding off a dandelion to me.

Down on one knee by the dung heap.

Why did you refuse him?

He was a bit not quite right in the head.

And I heard the children Adam Zappel and Halitosis.

But mother disapproved, so.

Emily, what have you done?

Goodness Emily, are you quite all right?

Emily, you're a naked.

I'm sorry, Miss Emily, you're undressed.

I want to meet Emily as I am.

I'm wearing my hair down like this because I believe that the hair bun is women's eye and mask.

Oh, is that?

I can cover your eyes, Thomas. It's only hair.

But will I compromise your sweet virtue?

The hair bun is a mocking helmet of harnessed power and freedom.

Is it? I have no idea.

I'm back, I'm back.

Emily, what on earth do you think you're doing?

With my hair.

No, it is not. It belongs to me.

And Jesus.

I'm wearing my hair as nature and God intended me to.

I always thought that God preferred us to wear our hair in buns.

You know, certainly does.

Did the Virgin Mary wear a hair in a bun?

No, but I do think she had a fringe.

No, the Virgin Mary did not have a fringe when?

Well, you can't see it, but it's definitely there.

So it just once invented then?

Margaret, when were fringes invented?

Oh, no one invented a fringe when?

But Joan of Arc most certainly made them popular.

The Virgin Mary did not have a fringe, nor did she walk around with her hair billowing in the foreign acacia's wind.

What's it up at once?

It's the fashion.

Very much Elle Mode in Bohemian Chelsea.

I think she looked beautiful like a rosette heroine, all glowing and warm from a bed of sin.

Some of us are capable of enduring duty in the exaltation of our ideals, Mother.

Oh, get off the cross, Helen. We need the wood.

Emily, we are leaving right now.

I got as much of the band as I could.

Everyone except the horns section, and the cymbals, the euphonium, the cornets and the tuba.

So?

Two tenor trombones.

Only one of them doesn't think that women should have votes, so it's just the one.

Trombone.

Well, good on trombone.

Well done, Frank.

No, the thing is Mrs. Unwin.

She's here.

Mrs. Pankhurst is coming up the dry.

Oh, goodness, she was always early.

Oh, good lord.

Quick.

Quick.

When?

Get the five.

Get the five.

Actually, no.

No time.

No time.

No time.

Daniel, troops.

Troops.

Everyone in line.

Everyone in line.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Mrs. Emmene Pankhurst.

It is a letter in an honor to have you at our humble.

Welcome.

Welcome to Emmene.

Emmene Pankhurst.

Who are you?

Mrs. Margaret Unwin.

I'm founder of a band for it.

Oh, yes, yes.

Emmene knows about you.

You wrote her a letter as she read about you.

Um, sorry.

Are you not?

Yes.

She is here.

Emmene.

Emmene is I.

Mrs. Pankhurst, words cannot explain.

Well, they're all you've got to do better get on with it.

Emmene is on a tight schedule.

She must be an upper slaughter by nightfall.

Yes.

Yes.

She is here to inspect your battalion.

To see if you are worthy of these hand stitched

100% gross grain silk sashes bearing the insignia of votes for women.

Don't touch.

Oh, sorry, Mrs. Emmene.

Oh, jam.

Put it in the sack with the others.

Oh, sorry, Margaret.

I'm so nervous.

I forgot.

It's fine.

It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

Oh, my God.

I'm extremely humbled by your response to my letter, Mrs. Pankhurst.

I very much hope that we can walk with,

beside, slightly behind, on your long lonely march to female emancipation.

How often one yearns for the quick and easy bad in ours of like-minded gentle woman, I

too am left-handed and struggle with a bow.

Americans are my nemesis.

Immine is only going to say this once.

List of this.

Sit.

Assemble.

She begins with a speech.

They have told us that government rests upon force.

The women haven't forced, so they must submit.

When we are showing them that government does not rest upon force at all, it rests upon consent.

So long as women consent to be unjustly governed, they can be.

But directly women say we withhold our consent to be governed.

We will not be governed any longer so long as that government is unjust.

Not by the forces of civil war can you govern the very weakest woman.

You can kill that woman.

But she escapes you then.

You cannot govern her.

No power on earth can govern a human being however feeble.

Who withholds his or her consent.

Freedom or death.

Freedom please.

I've made you some trifle, Mrs. Frankhurst.

I've made you some trifle.

Mrs. Frankhurst.

I've made you some trifle, Mrs. Frankhurst, in the colours of suffragism.

I'm trifle.

Purple Gustard.

Yes, that's the suffragism.

Next.

Since the dawn of time when Eve stepped from Adam's rib,

we're probably not.

Heelia Trope, spinning mollusk, spawn, chimpanzee, spawn, she men.

History has been peppered with an astounding array of outstanding women.

Be she biblical, historical, accidental, oriental.

Be she sheba from the Book of Solomon.

The Virgin Mary immaculately concedes.

Ah, what's mystery is woman?

We're not doing the recorder either.

Her story is history.

Mary Antoinette and the Gita.

Father God, you are Jesus, the light house.

Light.

Why is it out of that?

We shall not win the vote through mummory and mine.

I quite like your sheba.

You, er, pregnant.

How many have you?

Fourteen.

Tell him to die not in it.

But this knows what you were talking about.

Bambory, what makes you worthy of the Silken Sash?

You, Princess Sila, what have you got?

Well, I have a song of my own composition.

Er, an old composition.

But get on with it.

Up, up, up the women.

Up, up, up we go.

Up, up, up the women choose your side or your friend or foe.

March, march, march for glory.

March, march, join the throne.

March, march, march for glory.

Live your heart in seeing a song.

Sing it again, faster.

Up, up, up the women.

Up, up the women.

Up, up the women.

The hair is nice and the song is sweet.

I'm not sure about her.

It's all very pretty, but it's not going to get us the vote.

I'm afraid you do not have what it takes to be a true suffragette.

Yes, she does.

Who's with it?

I did.

I am her mother, and she does have what it takes.

What is this?

How dare you talk to her like that?

You haven't changed at all in 30 years.

You always wear a Miss Bossy, Bossy big boots.

And you are Helen von Hekling.

We were at school together.

No.

We sat next to each other in calligraphy.

No.

I was the one who accidentally drank that ink.

No.

The one whose drawers fell down during the lacrosse semi-final in front of Princess Mary.

No.

I was the one who had the accident on the pommel horse.

No.

Smelly, smelly, smelly, smelly.

Smelly von Smelly.

Ah!

Smelly!

No, Emily, it recognizes you might as you would not say.

Forgive, forgive, touring the country so many faces.

What can she do to repair this damage?

Please may Emily have a sash.

No.

This is a war smeller not a prize day.

No, remember what happened when you stepped up.

This is a war smeller not a prize day.

No, remember what happened when you stepped up on the podium smelling.

Pfft.

Give us some jam.

You.

I just.

Meany, meany, Emily.

You are not fit to lead these good, honest women.

Shit butts.

Oh, Mrs. Pankhurst.

I'm sorry that we failed you.

We did so want to make a good impression.

Gwen made her ten minute trifling five.

And Emily and Thomas, they made that song up on the spot.

Well, Eva and Myrtle and I.

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

Well, I'm proud of what we've done.

And what we've become.

We may not be brave soldiers like you.

But sash is all no.

In our hearts we are suffragettes.

United as one.

Our spirit of militancy comes from a deep and abiding reverence for human life.

Right that last part done was quite good.

Now there's.

A battalion.

Esmeralda.

Fetch the sashes.

Jolly well done.

Oh, well done.

No, thank you.

I knew there was something about you the moment I read about your attack on the Venus in the

Banbury Library.

Oh, no, that wasn't us.

What?

No, we marched to the post office with plackets.

Two.

You are not.

The Banbury Free Suffragette Army.

No, no, we're the Banbury intricate craft circle.

I like the requests when you suffer.

Oh, that'll be.

Remove the sashes.

Hat.

She leaves.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Thank you so much for coming.

I'm sorry Margaret, I've ruined everything.

I shouldn't have said anything.

No, it's absolutely fine.

No, you did the right thing.

Peter wanted to play her out as well.

Well, I didn't think much of that, Emmeline.

She didn't even pay for a jam.

Well, I managed to obtain payment of the kind.

Emmeline, this is for you.

But you're not allowed to wear it.

Well, don't anyone like some trifle?

Oh, yes.

You was wonderful when.

They're all book-custered.

Oh, yes, that's the, um, the suffrage, um...

...the...

...of the wind.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh...

...the wind...

...use your spider, you friend of all.

Thank you, Emmeline.

Marsh, marsh, marsh, we're glory, marsh, marsh, join the throne.

Marsh, marsh, marsh, we're glory,

give your heart and sing your songs.

Now, there was a suffrage act.

This is it, she's still alive.

Now, there was a suffrage act.

Then, a voice is still a survive.

Singing notes, long women.

He's just a beginning.

You haven't seen anything yet.

Oh, now there was a suffrage act.