Original subtitles

Bene edamus

Bene bibamus

Epulas semper concelebramus

Quod imperat regina

Nil impediat doctrina

Sed choro sonoro

Dives in omnia

Sed choro sonoro

Dives in omnia

Collegium, Collegium acclamus

Porterhouse! Porterhouse!

To live and die in Porterhouse!

Dives in omnia

Aah!

- Good evening, Sir Cathcart. - Well, look at you, Dean!

All done up in your fig!

(Chuckles)

Trouble in college, l hear. Skullion tipped the wink.

Did he, indeed? Well, Cathcart, l'm afraid we've been landed with a fool for a Master.

Course you have. Clever fellows often are, you know.

They get carried away by what's going on in their silly heads,

and can't cope with people, life.

- Lost the nose for it. - Quite so, Cathcart.

Mm.

- Have you got a box? - Box?

Yeah, television box. Ain't myself, but my gardener has.

Lets me come in and watch it sometimes.

There's a woofter on it called Carrington.

- Cornelius Carrington. - Yes, l think l've...

Sort of a romantic Tory television personality.

Ain't that what you call them? l don't know.

Nasty piece of work.

- Old Porterhusian. - Ah! Young Carrington.

Does this, you know, investigative journalism.

Give him a scent and off he'll go.

Same club as me.

Can't think why. Should have been blackballed.

Why do you bring up young Carrington?

Oh, didn't l say?

Got the ponce up for a couple of days.

Likes staying in great houses, you see. A snob.

And he wants to do something on Godber.

- Ah! - Ah. Come in and meet him.

Ah, there you are. You remember the Dean.

Yes, indeed. How are you?

Discipline Dean. Romany Rye. Scott?

Well, well, young Carrington. Still keeping up the sport?

- Do you have brandy, Cathcart? - Mmm, Balzac.

l never was a sporting man, Dean.

Oh, no, that's right. l recall you showed a peculiar interest in politics.

- Joined a lot of societies. - Dear God, man, you didn't?

One of the subversives, eh?

Well, l'd hardly call the United Nations Association subversive.

Must be. Stands to reason.

Wouldn't exist if they weren't trying to subvert something or another.

Well, we haven't seen you for a very long time, young man.

l do appear on the television at least once a week.

Ah. One doesn't watch that. No, l meant in college.

To my knowledge you've not revisited us since, what, 197 4?

Something like that. l lead a busy life.

Well...Prost!

Prost, indeed!

l'm told by those who know about these things

you've made some name for yourself in the entertainment industry.

Not entertainment. l consider myself a maker of opinion.

Bloody opinion!

Still, you are one of the few distinguished men College can claim in recent years.

lf distinction is the word for television.

Yes, l can see you and the college have changed very little, Dean.

(Manic giggling)

l must get rid of them. l must get rid of them.

Oh, how can l ever get rid of...

(Knocking)

(Foxton) What's going on in there?

Erm... Sorry, Foxton, l've got diarrhoea.

ls that you, Zipser?

Erm... Yes, Foxton.

Well, hurry up. l need a pee.

Yes.

Yes, coming, Foxton.

Get out of the way, you bloody oaf.

- Yes, Foxton. - Got a hoover bag in there?

No, Foxton.

ln Porterhouse we have tried to remain steadfast,

when others have preferred mere fashion.

But Sir Godber must be altering all that.

That tithead!

He was always considered a clever politician.

No. Looks clever. Damn fool.

Different in the old days. Looked damn fools, were clever.

The British always did best when they were chinless wonders.

Confused the foreigners, you see. Put the other fellow off.

Can't take you seriously.

Then, when he's off guard,

you give it to him in the goolies!

Never fails. Out like a light.

Hey, come out, you.

- What's going on? - Some sod's using our toilet.

Come on, you. Use your own loo.

(Banging on door)

Come out, come out, wherever you are!

lt's bloody old Zipser! Shall we throw him in the fountain?

No, no, let him go. Clever man, Zipser.

Good God!

So tradition is in conflict with change.

He's outraged the fellows, threatened the servants, proposes to admit women,

and generally brought us to a quite explosive situation.

Of course,

our small problems can hardly interest a man like yourself,

from the great world of the media,

as l think it is called.

No. Do go on.

Sir Cathcart thinks there might be a programme in this.

- Yes. - l do a show, you know.

No, clearly, you don't.

Questioned By Carrington, a searching look at British institutions in change.

So, an explosive situation.

Sod off, Foxton.

Head Porter here, Mr Zipser. Open the door.

What? Mr Skull.

Just one minute.

- l'm having a bath. - No bathroom in there, Mr Zipser.

- What is it, Mr Skull? - l need to talk, Mr Zipser.

- About that very confidential matter. - Confidential?

lntimate matter, sir. Not something that can be dealt with through a door.

- What about? - lt's about being...examined, sir.

- Examined? - Yes, that's right, Mr Zipser.

- Now, can l come in? - No, not now.

lt's very important, sir. Career at stake.

Oh.

Erm...

Come back in the morning. l'm not very well.

Yeah, but Mr...

All right, then, Mr Zipser.

(Telephone)

Hello. Samaritans. Can we help?

Samaritans? Please, can you help me?

(Muffled) l'm in terrible trouble.

l'm sorry, young man, you'll have to speak up.

Now, just pull yourself together and enunciate quite clearly, and...

Lady Mary.

l'm sure l know that voice.

l'm going mad.

l'll never get rid of them.

Float them away!

(Bell tolls)

- Midnight, Mr Skullion. A nasty night. - Yeah.

- l think everything's quiet. - Right, well, you get off home then, Walter.

- Well, Dean's not back yet. - Don't worry, l'll lock up. l'll see to the Dean.

l wonder how he got on with Sir Cathcart.

Hmm.

Yes, we have ways.

- (Chuckles) - Yes, Mr Skullion.

- Night, then. - Good night, Walter.

(Escaping gas)

(Pop)

(Clock chimes)

(Slurring) lt's past my bedtime, Cathcart.

Young Carrington.

Good to meet an old Porterhusian again.

l'm afraid l've been rather a bore,

chatting away like this about our petty college scandals.

No, l'd like to hear more. Can l could and see you in college?

Any time. Drop in for tea. l do a splendid toasted crumpet.

Oh... Erm... Oh...

But of course, much of what l've said is quite between ourselves.

l don't know, sounds like a good programme to me.

Nothing the British public likes better than old buildings, tradition, nostalgia.

Ain't l right, Carrington? That's what the box is for.

There's something in that, Sir Cathcart.

l waited up for you, sir.

- Are you all right, sir? - Ah! Thank you, Skullion.

- Very hospitable, isn't he, Sir Cathcart? - Exactly so, Skullion, yes.

Was he, erm... Was he very helpful, sir?

l think we'll see some changes, Skullion. Yes, l really think we will.

Mm. Er... Erm, sir, shall l help you to your room?

Nonsense, Skullion. l can manage. Good night.

Yes, good night, sir.

(Squeaking)

God!

Come here.

(Bursting)

(Rubbery squeaking)

(Dean) What would you say this was?

l don't really like to say, sir.

l just found it in the quad.

Oh, yeah?

Floating about, as at some fair.

Very unnatural they are, sir.

Quite.

Like some gigantic cocktail sausage.

l want them cleared away, Skullion, before it gets light.

The college's reputation is at stake.

We don't want to become the laughing stock of the university.

No, sir.

Clear 'em away, yes. The quad, you said?

Yes, and don't disturb me. l'm feeling very... (Slurs)

Oh! Oh! Oh!

Gotcha! Gotcha!

Ah! Heeyah! Hurgh!

Ooh!

Oh, go, go, go, will you?

Get down, get down!

Bloody kill 'em, smash 'em to... Where are they coming from?

(Snoring)

Yoo-hoo! Mr Zipser!

Mr Zipser, it's me.

What?

- What time is it? - Half past four, my darling.

Half past four?

l've seen the way you look at me, love.

l know what you're thinking.

Well, l feel the same.

The same? You're not supposed to do that, Mrs Biggs.

- This your first time, dear? - (Gasps)

Don't you worry. You just lie there a minute and contain yourself.

l'm going to light the gas.

Nothing like a nice, warm fire for after.

After what?

Silly boy!

lt's all coming true, Mr Zipser.

But it's against the college rules. Erm...

Uh...

We can't do this, Mrs Biggs.

l've been gated. l'm not allowed to do anything for a week.

l ought to be concentrating...on my thesis.

- Do you want me sent down? - Do what you like, dear. (Giggles)

l'm all yours.

- (Gasps) - (Chuckles)

Oh! Ohh.

Oh, Mrs Biggs!

- Mrs Biggs! - That's right.

Now, Mr Zipser,

not too quick.

- Not too quick. - Mrs Biggs!

Godber? What is it? What's happening?

l think the Bull Tower's collapsed.

Collapsed?

Now, Mary, calm yourself. Remember you're a Samaritan.

Now, l'm going down there to give all the help l can.

l want you to telephone the ambulance and the fire brigade.

- You mean people are hurt? - Bound to be, Mary. lt went up like a bomb.

Skullion! Stop that.

Go and open the gates. The fire engine and the ambulance are on their way.

- Can't do that, sir. - What did you say?

Can't let strangers in here with all these filthy things hanging about.

- lt wouldn't be right. - There are people hurt in here, man.

Sir, the college would be the laughing stock of the university.

You'll pay for this, Skullion!

You, go and open the gates at once.

You've got no sense of tradition, you haven't!

To live and die in Porterhouse

(Sirens)

Collegium, Collegium

Porterhouse

Collegium, Collegium

Bene vivere

Et ludere

Vivamus

To live in Porterhouse

Porterhouse

Splendidum collegium

He told me to open the gates, sir,

and he still had them filthy things all lying about.

You yourself said the college would be the laughing stock of the university.

- The Master is upset. We all are. - Well, yes, sir.

- Who is it, Arthur? - lt's a woman.

lt can't be. Women aren't allowed.

lt is. lt's Mrs Biggs.

(Both) Mrs Biggs?

''The influence of pumpernickel on the politics of 16th century Westphalia''?

My God, it's Zipser!

And Mrs Biggs. What were they doing together?

Oh, yes. The young man came to discuss it with me.

He was obsessed with her, you know.

Obsessed with his bedder? ln heaven's name, why?

Lust, you know.

Good, decent, honest, old-fashioned lust.

Since it is ordained

that the office of burial not be used for any that die unbaptised,

excommunicate or having laid violent hands on themselves,

let us commit our young Zipser to the stony ground,

praying that he be delivered at last from that burning burden of the flesh

that so long and so tragically consumed him.

Requiescat in pacem

Amen

Amen

l must say, the quail is quite delicious.

The coroner's inquest has given me an appetite.

l had feared a less magnanimous verdict.

Suicide while of unsound mind completely vindicates the college.

Suicide. Now, that's an interesting topic to consider.

The coroner already has, Chaplain.

Yes, we haven't had a decent suicide in college for years.

ln the old days, hardly a week went by without some chap taking the easy way out.

ln my view, it's the decline of morality.

Undergraduates aren't conscience stricken any more.

ln the old days, they used to call us Slaughterhouse.

The name may well come back, Praelector.

Oh, but was Zipser really of unsound mind?

Or is it, of course, as the coroner said?

He was in the grip of an irrational impulse.

Evidently he was in the grip of Mrs Biggs,

but that could well amount to the same thing.

Few of us can claim a moment of sexual satisfaction, however fatal,

that leaves behind a bill of half a million pounds.

That is what it will cost to rebuild the Tower?

So the Bursar tells me.

Well, l trust the Master will learn his lesson,

and count the cost of the sexual permissiveness he encourages.

lncidentally, where is the Bursar?

Rubber is a substitute placenta.

The bedder was an obvious mother substitute.

lt's perfectly obvious, Bursar.

The poor boy was a fetishist.

And filling those things with gas an obscure form of penis envy.

l assure you, Godber, the penis these days attracts no envy whatsoever.

No, what all this goes to show is that single sex colleges create dangerous frustrations.

We must make Porterhouse coeducational as soon as possible.

Well, l fear there can be no reform at this time, Lady Mary.

Rebuilding the tower will cost half a million.

And given the appalling publicity we have received, l have little hope of any appeal.

Then don't rebuild the tower, Bursar.

Now's the chance for the new building, Lady Mary Hall.

Well, either way, the same problem applies, Lady Mary.

We shall have to fall back on our own funds.

Which, as Sir Godber knows, are less than nil.

Proving what l said all along, the need for economies.

But l dare say you agree with the Dean, Bursar.

l think the days of the Dean's influence are numbered, Master.

Some of the younger Fellows are beginning to face facts

and see the need for a new realism.

Excellent. May l take it that you are one of them, Bursar?

lndeed, Master.

Ah, l think we ought to have some wine.

Elaine, le vin de elderberry, s'il vous pla�t.

ln that case, Bursar,

l think we ought to test College Council tomorrow with my new proposals.

New proposals, Master?

Mmm. College servants cost us two hundred thousand a year, at least.

When High Table is abolished, we shall need very few of them.

Quite, and we'll start by getting rid of that insolent head porter.

Skullion? But he's been here 45 years, milady.

Far too long. He thinks he owns the college.

He reached the end of my patience the night the Tower blew up.

He wouldn't open the gate to the rescue services until he'd tidied the quad.

He's obtuse, but loyal and conscientious.

And only five years to go to retirement.

But we don't need two porters, Bursar. Walter can do the job.

Or a woman. He's only a glorified receptionist.

Well... (Gulps)

- You're not afraid of Skullion, are you? - Oh, no, milady.

Oh, there's one other thing you must do, if Mr Zipser is not to have died in vain.

- What's that, Mary? - lnstall a contraceptive machine.

- Well, l'm not sure... - There's one in the men's lavatory at King's.

Well, there would be, wouldn't there?

Well, l insist you get contraceptives, Godber. As soon as possible.

Pas devant les domestiques, Mary.

Godber, she is French.

Walter, go and help Dr Messmer before he strangles himself.

l'm going off to College Council.

You'd be safer writing your book, Dr Messmer.

(Dean) Gentlemen, we must bring home to the Master that in the wake of the tragedy,

our task is to reconstruct the old college.

Times have changed. That must be made clear.

Yes, Dean. We know.

- Morning, Skullion. - Morning, gentlemen. Morning, sir.

Right, come on, down to the boiler house underneath the old library.

- What for, Mr Skullion? - lt's the Head Porter's intelligence system,

used since time immemorial.

Come on!

Mind yourself on these steps, Cheffy. l'll put the light on.

All right?

Mind these pipes here. Here's where it should be.

Now then, see that box there?

Hand that box up.

That's it.

You just get up here behind me.

Put your ear here.

(Dean) Master, they say, one of the consequences...

So this is how you know, you old bugger!

Ssh!

(Master) l now see that some of the objections

made to me last week were correct.

l realise that my hopes of raising funds elsewhere were misguided.

Gentlemen, you were right.

Whatever Porterhouse wishes to do, it must do from its own resources.

Then l think we may agree reluctantly that an infinite postponement is inevitable.

Agree? There's something wrong here, Cheffy.

So the cost of rebuilding our beloved Bull Tower

must come from college funds themselves.

The cost is half a million.

l understood last week you said we had no funds at all.

Exactly.

So our building fund must come from economies we can make within the college.

Oh, yes? What economies?

l am happy to say that our fine Bursar has been most industrious,

and has produced an admirable plan,

which l hope you will pass without dissent.

l understand it should raise just exactly half a million.

Thank you, Master. Yes.

This should be just what is required.

Document one shows the number of college servants.

Abolishing High Table would mean we need very few of them.

- My bloody kitchens again! - Ssh, ssh!

- ..same proposals as last week. - No. That is step one.

Document two is a proposal for selling college properties

for commercial redevelopment.

But we have no college properties.

Well, except for the houses on Rhyder Street.

(Master) Precisely.

Not all Fellows may be aware that we own a number of slum properties in Rhyder Street.

ln a development area! A property company is already interested.

Slum properties?

Master, those properties are leased in perpetuity to the servants.

lt compensates for their very low wages.

Them are our houses he's talking about, Cheffy.

They can't get rid of 'em. They're ours to retire to.

lf we dispense with college servants, we would not need their houses.

lt's perfectly legal.

lt's completely immoral. College is its servants.

(Master) Do you know a better way of raising half a million pounds?

Our houses, Mr Skullion!

Well, l'm not standing for it. l'm just not standing...

(Rattles)

- What was that? - Our dilapidated central heating, Master.

(Master) So, gentlemen, that is the Bursar's plan.

- Our only way. - lt is not the Bursar's plan.

lt is a yet more terrible version of your own proposals.

No one has mentioned document three. What is this?

A proposal to install a contrapuntial machine?

A contraceptive machine.

Lady Mary assures me, with her knowledge of youth,

that had this college had one, the tragedy would have been avoided.

That caps it all.

- How very well put. - (Chortles)

You are not fit to be Master of Porterhouse.

Oh, Dean, l am aware of your views and of your recent activities.

You have continued the attempt to undermine me and divide the college.

ln view of our agreement, l should resign here and now.

After the Tower, we should not survive another scandal.

Exactly. My decision now rests entirely on your vote.

l stay if these proposals are accepted in their entirety.

Contents?

lt's inevitable, Dean.

You've tried, failed.

Not contents. l can accept one abstention.

The proposals are carried.

l withdraw my resignation and look forward to working with you,

or most of you, on the task we now face, the rebuilding of our dear college.

l don't believe it. The times we've carried them splifflicated to their rooms!

The secrets we've kept, the insults we took!

College said they'd look after us. That's why we took the pittance they paid.

Look after us for life, Cheffy. That's what they said. They've got no right to do it.

- But it's legal, like he said. - lt may be, but it ain't moral.

- l'm going to tell the sodding Bursar... - Skullion!

No, Cheffy, they're our houses. Our houses.

No, it's excellent news, Master.

l've just spoken to Mercantile Properties and they've upped their offer for Rhyder Street.

Six hundred thousand, providing the college servants leave quickly and without trouble.

Shall l, erm... l'll call you back, Master.

- Skullion. What is it? - l want to talk to you, sir.

- What's going on in this college? - You'd better sit down.

l can say what l've got to say standing up. You've got no right to do what you're doing.

- l can't think what you're talking about. - Yes, you do!

l'm talking about these changes.

Skullion, College cannot carry on as it has in the past.

You must realise yourself finances are in a very poor way.

Especially since the tragedy of poor Mr Zipser.

Mr Zipser! What do you care about Mr Zipser?

You're putting in these machines, ain't you?

- Machines? - Yes, machines for Frenchies.

And you're opening up the college to women. l call it disgusting.

Those things are none of your business, Skullion. You're a college servant.

A servant? What do you think a servant is? Don't you think a servant has some rights?

ln a college like this, servants are a very large expense.

Porterhouse has no choice but to make some changes and economies.

Yes! Oh, yes! l know what you mean.

- Yes, the kitchens. - What do you know about the kitchens?

Oh, l know. Self-service in the hall. lsn't that what the Master wants?

l don't know how you got your information, Skullion, but no-one should have told you.

Should or not, l know. l know a lot.

You ought to have gone to the Porterhouse Society.

They wouldn't have seen the kitchens change.

And now you're going to try and sell Rhyder Street. Well, you got no right!

We was promised those houses in Lord Wurford's day.

- Oh, l see. You know about that, too. - Yes!

Those houses are not yours. They belong to the college.

Now, Skullion, nobody likes doing these things, certainly not l.

- Well, don't do 'em, then. - But that is our only source of revenue.

lt's always money.

Everything's always blamed on money.

Right.

Right, l've thought about this a lot.

College has been good to me up to now, so l'm going to help it.

l can't do anything until l go to the bank.

What on earth do you mean, Skullion?

You don't remember Lord Wurford, do you? No, you wouldn't. You'd only just come.

Well, he was a real Master, he was.

Anyway, he left me a few shares in his will for a rainy day.

l reckon my rainy day has come.

l'm going to give them to the college.

Providing you leave Rhyder Street alone.

l don't know how much they're worth. A thousand, maybe two.

Don't be so ridiculous, Skullion.

Have you any idea of the kind of sums involved?

- You'll need them for your retirement. - l'm not retiring.

The Master and l have been discussing your future.

- What? - You're not a young man.

- Your temper gets worse. - Temper gets worse?

Temper? What temper?

We feel it would be in your best interests to seek other employment.

- Sacked? - No, not sacked, Skullion.

But for everyone's sake, it would be better if you looked for another job.

You've sacked me?

After all these years in this college?

- And you've sacked me? - Now, Skullion!

No, it's not you, is it? lt's him!

Porterhouse! Porterhouse!

To live and die in Porterhouse!

You don't understand, Cathcart.

Sir Godber's trying to destroy something absolutely fundamental,

the future of oligarchy in Britain.

- Eh? - Who has always run this country?

Where do we find our prime ministers, diplomats,

theatre directors, actors, scientists, businessmen?

Even our most famous spies.

Oh, BBC, Dean.

Oxbridge, Cathcart. Great colleges, like Porterhouse.

For 500 years, we've been taking every Tom, Dick and Harry,

and turning them into gentlemen.

They may not be gentlemen when they come,

but they damn well are when they leave.

- lsn't that right? - Right.

Oh, l've know some real bounders in my time.

Used to put them in the fountain. Did them no end of good.

Exactly. Godber Evans is one of those on whom it just didn't take,

and his revenge is to turn College into some...

cross between Fitzwilliam and a hostel for townies.

Who'd want their sons to be educated in a self-service hamburger bar?

Or an academic gents' lavatory full of contraceptive machines?

My God! He's not going to start handing out johnnies?

Yes, Cathcart.

ln my day you were sent down if you were caught riveting a dolly.

ln any case, you can't put rubber between yourself and life.

(Skullion shouting)

l've come to tell the General. l've been sacked.

- What? - lmpossible. You can't have been.

l have, sir. lt was the Bursar. He said it was about time l found other employment.

Me, at my age! After 45 years in the college.

- But, dear God, man, you are the college! - l'll talk to the Bursar when l get back.

lt'll do no good, sir. The Master put him up to it.

First he kicks all the servants out of Rhyder Street. Then he sacks me.

Sir Godber's selling it for property development.

Oh, can't do that, don't look right.

Old retainers. Got to stable 'em somewhere.

Seven Masters l served.

The first, when l came there 45 years ago, was Lord Wurford.

He was a real gentleman. Remembered me in his will.

Yeah, he knew what he owed.

- Even to the servants. - All right, you old bugger.

What do you want now, hmm?

l want my job. l want what's due me.

And l want those that l helped to help me.

There's a lot of very big names owe their careers to me, sir.

- l've got the list. - List of what?

You leave this to us, hmm?

Go and ask Cook to give you a cup of tea.

Yes, sir.

Good man.

Thank you, sir.

What list is that?

Eh? Oh, never you mind, Dean.

No, this is serious. You'd better find that Bursar and tell him he can't sack Skullion.

Head porter knows everything that's going on in the college.

Always a slippery sod, that Bursar.

No, it wasn't him. He wouldn't dare.

lt was that Sir Godber. Just cos l stood up to him.

Anyway, Cheffy, you coming in for a minute?

- Go on, in you go. - Funny, us neighbours.

This is the first time l've been in. l always respected your privacy.

Slum properties! lt's like a little palace.

Yeah, well, you sit yourself down there, Cheffy.

That's it.

(Grunts)

You know, Cheffy, l never thought about my life. l did as l was told.

Always listened to 'em. Always did everything l could for 'em.

That's right, Mr Skullion.

Of course, in the old days, well, they were worth respecting.

Oh, yes. Very fair, very generous.

Old Lord Wurford, you know, left me a very nice legacy.

Oh, yes.

You know, l offered that to the Bursar and he turns round and he sacks me.

You've always done well for yourself, Mr Skullion.

That and your racing tips, you must have a bit put by.

l'm all right that way.

Hmm, now, let's see.

Ah, Lord Wurford's shares.

Must have enough for a nice place and a comfortable retirement, eh?

l don't want that.

l want my house. l want my job.

l want my respect.

l've been at Porterhouse longer than anyone.

What do you think they'll say about it? Eh?

Oh, yes, Cheffy. More famous names there than you'd care to mention.

Royals, bishops, ministers, members of Parliament.

And they all owe their careers to me.

Good Lord! What's these?

- Skullion's Scholars? - Yes. Kept a list.

Still get a Christmas card from some of 'em.

Don't worry, Cheffy. They'll see me all right.

They better had,

or a lot of very famous people are going to be in for a lot of trouble.