Original subtitles

'Norman Stanley Fletcher...

'You have pleaded guilty to the charges brought and it is now my duty to pass sentence...

'You are a habitual criminal who accepts arrest as an occupational hazard,

'and presumably accepts imprisonment in the same casual manner.

'We therefore commit you to the maximum term allowed.

'You will go to prison for 5 years.'

Sorry, mate.

- ♪ - Born free...

- ♪ - Till somebody caught me...

- ♪ - Now I'm doing solitre-e-e... - ♪

- Got any chewing gum? - Never use it. - Aw, come on, you mean old scroat.

All right. Here's a little bit. Don't eat it all at once.

Ta Gonna watch the game?

- No! - Be a good game. - That bloodbath? - If we win, we win the trophy. - What trophy? - It's a silver cup.

It WAS a silver cup.

- Until it disappeared. - Who did that?

I dunno. There's 600 suspects.

- Be melted down by now. - Play for fun. - You should watch. It's your wing.

It's NOT. I'm just incarcerated here. At Her Majesty's pleasure.

It's not your wing either.

Why the Tom Brown's Schooldays bit?

Tom Black's Schooldays, maybe.

Out there, I'm playing for Morton, against Celtic. At Hampden. And we STUFF them!

I've no time to watch people get stuffed.

- Got visitors? - No.

NO!

- Watching the box? - No. Wrong 3 times.

What are you doing then?

I'm going fox-hunting.

You've got 5 years, Fletch. You've got to do SOMETHING.

Listen, Sonny Jock!

Don't tell me how to pass my time.

I was doing time when you were stealing mangoes on the plantation.

I was brought up in Greenock!

Stealing mangoes in Greenock then.

It's beautiful out there as well.

It's beautiful in here as well. Cos all you blokes are outside.

You're playing football, others are gambling, or indulging in their pathetic hobbies,

which leaves me some peace.

Go on then, enjoy your game. Take no prisoners.

Now then... where's me tea?

- ♪ - I believe for every drop of rain that falls... - ♪

- What are you doing? - We want to play ping-pong. - I'm not stopping you.

- Well, there aren't any balls, like. Somebody said you had one. - Who?

That bloke with no ears. Lugless Douglas.

- Who told Lugless Douglas? - He just heard.

He what?!

- Is it true? - I've got a ball hidden away, yes.

Would you lend us it?

Let's discuss the possibility of a lease.

- How much is it then? - One snout.

Per hour.

- Minimum 3 hours. - You're a hard man, Fletch.

No, I'm not. I'm just taking advantage of it.

Harry Grout's syndicate would make you leave your watch as a deposit.

If you failed to return the ball, your watch would get trod on.

- All right. You're on. - Got any thinner ones?!

- It's good shag, honest! - All right.

Thank you very much.

- Where's the ball then? - Yes! Sorry.

It's a funny colour.

I got it off McLaren.

- Do you want a game later? - Certainly not!

- Helps to pass the time. - I don't WANT any help with that.

Next?

- Fletcher? - Yes?

- Some of us have formed a drama group. - YES...?

- Do you have any theatrical inclinations? - No.

You don't necessarily have to act.

You could work the wind machine.

Wind machine?! Enlist Ives.

He's a walking wind machine, he is.

We want to do contemporary plays. A thriller, perhaps.

"Wait until Dark". Audrey Hepburn was in the film.

I couldn't slim down in time.

It's prompters and lighting men, WE need.

I don't really go for the theatre. Now if you were doing a musical...

I used to do a lot of singing round the pubs.

"Ladiez and gennelmen, lez have a round of applause for FRANKIE FLETCHER!"

My name is really Norman Fletcher, but I called myself Frankie, because it's more - showbiz.

I was backed by Ted Prendergast and the Organaires. Remember him?

- No. - You MUST do! He was on Workers' Playtime once. A cardboard factory at Letchworth.

- I don't remember. - It folded soon after that.

- We used to do: - ♪ - See the pyramids across the Nile, See the sunrise on a tropic isle. - ♪

- We're NOT doing a concert party. - Well, naff off then, Sir Laurence.

- It might have relieved the boredom. - It will go when YOU leave. - Thanks!

Give my love to Audrey Hepburn! What a raver. Audrey Hepburn...

- How lovely. - ♪ - Time on my hands...

- ♪ - You in my arms... - ♪

What are you looking at?

All right, I give up.

Hey up! - It's you, Blanco!

Please explain, dear.

It's Muffin the Mule. Him what's on TV.

When did YOU last watch television?

Some time back. I've been too busy

making him.

I see what you mean. Lovely. But why did you bring him here?

I've just finished him. I wanted you to be the first to see him. Taken me nigh on 15 years.

Fifteen years?! Still, worth it though.

Now he's done, I'm at a loose end.

Expect you are. You could study. Improve your mind.

I once studied a book called "Memory Training".

I can't remember where I left it.

Smoke yourself to death instead.

- Bless you, Fletch! - All right.

Muffin was for my 3 year old niece, but she's grown up a bit now.

She's an air hostess.

Never thought it would take so long.

Time flies when you're having fun.

Yeah...

Cor...! Can I borrow your magazine?

- No! - Now I've finished Muffin, I want to catch up on my reading.

Read something LESS controversial. Remember the old blood pressure. Try the Radio Times.

- Do you fancy a Jaffa Cake? - Yes. - Let's see what Providence has got.

- I'll just get my boots on. - Right. - Walkies, Muffin...

or rather... wheelies!

MUFFIN RATTLES NOISILY

KNOCK ON DOOR

What is it?

Sorry to disturb you, Mr Collinson.

I can see how busy you are,

but it's old Blanco.

- He's just finished his animal and he'd like you to see it. - ...

- All right. - Thank you, sir. Very, very, very good of you, sir. Thank you very much.

This is the... mule, is it, Blanco?

Aye, sir. 15 years, sir.

It was worth it. You don't often see craftsmanship of that quality.

Thank you, sir. Nice of you to say so.

Off you go then.

Thanks very much, Mr Collinson. A word from a man like yourself - much appreciated.

All right.

Here...

- You ARE a lad, Fletch! - Say no more.

- I say, sorry if I disturbed you. - Any time for you, Blanco. - Ta.

Well, I think I'll go down and watch a bit of Grandstand.

While you're there, put the word around that I'm incommunicado.

- You're in the where? - I don't wish to be disturbed.

Right... we'll tell 'em.

We'll tell 'em

I'm back, darling.

< POLITE COUGH

Yes?

Fletcher!

Mr Barrowclough, please lock me in,

so I can get some privacy.

On a LOVELY afternoon like this? Dear me!

I thought you'd be out in the yard. Seems a waste to be stuck inside.

It's NOT a waste to me!

I LIKE being stuck inside, reading.

I don't WANT to play games.

OR make toys or play the saxophone.

Or join the amateur drama group. Or watch the Blue Lamp on BBC 2...

a film glamorising that bunch who put me here in the first place!

It's better than lying on your bunk reading lewd, lascivious rubbish!

If a man puts his mind to it, he can better himself in here.

There's far more opportunities now.

Take Spraggon. He's made a 6-foot rocket from milk bottle tops.

Really?

It's a work of art, you know. He's done it in 3 colours.

The nose cone is red - homogenised, the bulk is made out of silver top,

and the Governor's gold top made a nice motif.

Tell Spraggon from me, he'll never get it off the ground.

Rafferty is having his watercolours exhibited in an art gallery.

And you can get professional qualifications in here.

Even the Tooley brothers left with a diploma in welding.

Yeah. Then they welded their way into Barclays Bank in Blackburn.

But we gave them an opportunity to do something legitimate with their lives.

They only abuse the opportunity. They ARE felons, Mr Barrowclough!

You teach someone how to use a printing press.

Does he join the Northern Echo? Fairycakes.

He stays at home and forges premium bonds.

I can't accept your cynicism.

I just don't like seeing someone with a good brain wasting his time. You should do something!

- Is that the end of the lecture? - I didn't come to lecture you.

What DID you come in for? We never found out.

I just dropped in because I had nothing better to do.

Would you Adam and Eve it! Your lives are emptier than ours!

I've got my allotment.

If you want to do something for us,

give us more freedom, better grub,

conjugal visits.

What?

Conjugals. From the Latin "conjugari" -

meaning "to have it away".

We couldn't do that!

With our old ladies! It's all above board, Bristol fashion.

The wife stays for the weekend in special apartments

where we can manifest our long felt wants.

- I don't know any prisons where... - Not here, in Holland and America.

You mean the wives just visit and...

spend the whole weekend...?

Conjugating, yeah.

That's more than I'm allowed at home.

Mr Barrowclough!

Aye?

Your need is greater than mine.

Certainly not, Fletcher!

Ha, ha, ha...!

Now, this is a typical cell block.

↑ Why do you have the nets?

Suicide, ma'am... Prevention of.

Do you have many instances of that?

Certainly not, ma'am.

It's against the rules.

I suppose it's also useful if anyone

gets violent and throws each other

over the edge.

- They generally throw US over! - Is there a bad record of violence here?

No. Because we encourage a wide range of activities.

This helps them express themselves.

Releases the pent-up expression endemic to the incarcerated male.

↑ Is that what they're doing now?

Absolutely. Every prisoner

has seized the opportunity to enjoy

the extensive facilities available.

There are always some exceptions, of course.

May we look inside a cell?

Certainly, ma'am.

Is this man sick?

Are you sick, Fletcher?

I'm sick of bleeding interruptions!

Please, this man's trying to relax.

No. Be my guest.

Please don't get up.

- Now, this is a typical cell. - Single or double?

Double. As indicated by the two bunks.

Prisoners are allowed to personalise their cells.

You notice the radio and the...

..matches.

They're allowed to decorate their lockers with mementos of family

and home.

Those two are the wife,

and that one is the wife's sister.

Yes, well, maybe you would like to see the recreation room now.

We ARE disturbing his privacy.

- Privacy?! - Fletcher!

Please! Let the man speak!

Have you noticed any privacy here? Seen a door without a peephole? A cubicle door in the latrines?

It's an affront to your dignity when you're sitting on the bog

and the football team goes past.

Yes... well...

Yes... Well, you've had some, ain't you?

Notice the way Mr Mackay just BURST in here.

He paid no more attention to me than he did that wash basin.

Privacy is a privilege you forfeit when you transgress the law.

This is NOT an hotel. They forget that they're here to be punished.

Eye for an eye. Tooth for a nail.

- You sound like a Londoner. - I am. - What's a Londoner doing up here?

Five years. What are you doing?

- Fletcher! - No, no. Fair question.

We're all from the Home Office and we learn more about our penal system from these visits.

Only by talking to people like you are we able to make recommendations for change and reform.

Change? A new coat of paint, maybe. But reform - just don't bother.

His opinion is not very instructive.

I've been in more prisons than him so whose opinion is instructive?

- I would value it. - I bet you would.

I see what you mean.

In my opinion, you can't have a total amnesty.

You've got to lock away the hard cases.

But with the rest of us, do what they do in Scandinavia.

Make us WORK off our debt

to society. On farms, hospitals...

One school of thought.

I think he has confirmed our ideas.

- What?! - I can see this system working with men like you.

What area would YOU like to work in?

- I'd choose the building site. - The fresh air.

Yes... but mainly because I could nick a fortune.

Cor...!

- Recreation room next? - Hopeless case. Classic recidivist.

Bit of a surly chap.

But articulate.

Like a lorry!

Is there anybody else?

- 'Scuse me. - What is it now? - Were you asleep?

Asleep?!

It'd be easier at Waterloo station.

Just leave me ALONE!

Sorry. But your ball's got a crack in it.

- Pardon? - Cracked.

Better than no balls at all, mate!

- It spoilt the game. - Here!

- I'll take that fag back. - No!

You should have examined the ball!

- That's not fair. - FAIR?! When is life fair?

Is it fair that I should be

continually bombarded with people?

Saturday afternoon is a few sacred

hours when we can all enjoy

our own company.

It only lasts till teatime, when we'll eat that rubbish masquerading as cottage pie.

When will you learn that surviving

in stir is a state of mind?

It's learning to live with yourself.

Sorry, Fletch.

Come on, Warren. I like you, baby!

Sometimes I crave your company.

I love your anecdotes of the days you worked in that ironmongers in Bury.

Bolton.

Even better! I was very eager to see those snaps your wife took

on her day trip to Lake Windermere.

- I've got some more. - Gawd!

- They didn't come out too well. - Just put them on the table, Warren.

- They'll help me while away a pleasant evening. - Right, Fletch. I'll not disturb you no more.

- Promise? - Yeah. - Here, do you PROMISE?

- I promise. - Right.

God...

God...

God! It may seem a bit of a liberty me asking you favours.

But there is no more joy in Heaven than when a sinner repenteth.

It's only a little thing I ask.

Just keep these nurks off my back,

will you?

If anyone else comes in, I won't be

answerable for the consequences!

Know what I mean, God?

Fletch!

I've been meaning to talk to you.

Left, right, left, right...!

Left, right. HALT! Face the front! Stand still!

For the chop.

You know that. NO exit!

Whenever I have any doubts about the system, it's people like you that reassure me.

In the final analysis,

your criminal character will always show through. Like ink on blotting paper.

- Hello, Mr Mackay. - Yes. Fletcher, sir.

Sorry to drag you away from the game, sir.

Not at all. This is a very serious matter!

- Did the Home Office visitors see the incident? - No, sir. They were in the woodwork room.

FACE THE FRONT!

- Did anyone else witness it? - No, sir.

Well, only old Blanco Webb. And Mr Collinson heard the screams.

- Fletcher, what's got into you? - Face the front! - I'm talking to you!

Everyone's talking to me! I'm going mad! I'd like to have psychiatric observation, sir.

- Well, I... - No, you don't!

An unprovoked assault, sir.

Slade Prison has never known

a chaplain thrown over the balcony.

I knew the safety net was there.

The chaplain was shattered!

He'll bounce back, sir.

Well, he did a bit.

Don't be insolent, Fletcher!

I have no alternative but to sentence you to the maximum period

of solitary confinement.

Sir.

It's your own fault. You have a very regrettable attitude.

Perhaps you'll dwell on that over the next three days.

- Three days? - Yes! - Can I ask one thing? - What?

Could you make it a fortnight?