Original subtitles

Woodhouse. What the hell is this?

I believe it's squash, sir. I... What are you shoveling it into?

The wee baby Seamus. Miss Trinette said you'd agreed to it...

...while she's in Atlantic City.

What? For the Pimps and Ho's Ball...

...I believe she said.

Didn't seem the sort of place one takes a baby.

You're in huge trouble. Yes, sir.

And now I have to spend my first Friday off in forever...

Yes, sir. ...devising bizarre punishment for you.

Yes, sir. So don't be surprised...

...if you end up eating a whole bunch of spider webs. Right? Heh.

Now shut up and read me the paper.

Very good, sir. Let's see what we have... Oh, good Lord!

- Oh, for... What the shit, Woodhouse? - I...

Hey, stop crying. How do you...?

What do you do? How do you make him not...? Here. God!

You like that? It's a Bloody Mary.

Or is it a Bloody Caes...

Why are you sitting at my table?

The paper, sir. There's an item...

Oh, yeah? Did somebody finally out the queen? Right?

This baby knows what I'm talking about. Give me that.

"Sir Augustus Stilton, World War I flying ace, blah, blah, blah...

...dies under mysterious circumstances."

And mystery solved, he was a thousand.

Stilton and I were squadron-mates.

Oh, sorry, I... Twenty-Two Squadron, RFC.

Most decorated aerodrome...

...of the Great War. I don't care about the Great War.

But not much left of the old Double Deuce anymore.

We're all dying off.

Yeah, not a huge surprise.

We're not dying of old age, sir.

Wait a second. "Sir Aldous Wensleydale, foul play suspected.

Nigel Buxton, mysterious circumstances.

Edwin Glue-sester..."

Gloucester. Whatever. "Foul play suspected."

And other mysterious circumstances. Every one of these is like that.

All from the past six months. What the hell?

Hell indeed, sir.

Because one at a time...

...the remaining survivors of the old Double Deuce...

...are being murdered.

Oh, my God.

Are we out of Bloody Marys?

Cannot picture you as a fighter pilot.

Oh, no, sir, not a pilot. A batman. Uh...

An officer's personal attendant. Oh.

In charge of keeping his kit in good order, seeing to his personal needs...

So a servant.

Soldier-servant was the official term, but...

Yeah. Way to advance.

But for the enlisted, being chosen to bat for an officer was very desirable.

Especially when that officer was Captain Reginald Thistleton.

- I say, Woodhouse. - Yes, sir?

The Hun did a fair job of stitching up the old kite this time, what?

Thank God you're all right, sir. God and my twin Vickers, Woodhouse.

Caught old Jerry in a chandelle, poor bastard went down like a quail.

You scoundrel. Is that brandy? Thought you'd like a pick-me-up, sir.

Woodhouse, you're a rose among thorns.

Bagged your share today, Scripes?

Loads, thanks.

See you've already bagged yours.

Eww. Creepy. Yes, Lieutenant Scripes abhorred...

...the way Reggie... Captain Thistleton carried on with the men.

Yeah, didn't Oscar Wilde get hard labor for that?

What are you talking about?

The tontine. Oh.

France. Spring, 1917.

"Bloody April," they called it.

Black days, they were.

We were losing two, sometimes three pilots a week.

Who was that?

Foxley, I think.

No one thought we'd live through the war...

...so Reggie came up with the idea.

A tontine, lads.

Each man pays in 50 pounds...

...and the last survivor collects the capital and interest.

Oh, come on, lads, show some stones.

I'll show you my stones, sir.

- That's the spirit. Who else? - Yeah. I'm in.

Come on, Johnny. Bob's your uncle.

So how much are we talking here?

Oh, nearly 1200 pounds.

What? Nobody is getting killed over however much that is in real money.

No, but are you familiar with the term "compound interest"?

I'm not an idiot, Woodhouse.

Unlike some people around here.

That's silvertip badger, kid. You know how much this cost?

No, don't. Hey, come on, don't...

Here. God. Baby.

But since I don't have a calculator...

At 10 percent, by now, I'd say, it's just a bit shy of a million dollars.

What? I would totally kill you for that.

Not me, but, you know, somebody would. So how many of you old geezers are left?

Well, now that's Stilton's been killed...

...it's just me, Scripes, and...

And that will be Stinky.

Wha...? What will?

Cor, you done all right, then.

Oh, no, the flat belongs to Mr. Archer, who is my...

None of my business. Consenting adults and so on.

Hey, nobody is consenting to anything.

None of my business.

You're gonna eat so many spider webs.

That's what he said.

Scripes phones me at my niece's house in Secaucus, New Jersey...

I live with my niece...

...in Secaucus, New Jersey. Riveting.

He says, "Ain't it awful about Stilton?" And he wants to come pay us a visit.

Good Lord! What did you say?

Gave him your address. Told the bastard we'd be waiting for him.

- Waiting for him? My God, he'll... - Never know what hit him.

We'll turn this fruity flat into a killing field.

- But... - Seamus, no!

No, no, no. Woodhouse, I can either do... God, you are such a little brat. Here!

I can do baby, or I can do geezer murder mystery...

...but I can't do both.

Well, Scripes is on his way here, so...

So, sir, perhaps your mother could look after the wee baby Seamus?

Woodhouse. Yes.

- Nope. - Yes.

Mother, come on, you... You're off your nut...

...if you think I'm babysitting this squalling little...

What the hell is wrong with him?

He might have a tiny hangover.

Wha...? You ass, you gave him liquor?

No, I didn't give it to him, but... Ass.

See? Look at him, he's crazy for it.

You only give them liquor if they have croup.

Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Spock, I...

Or colic. Or the jimmy legs. Or... Can't you just dump him on Woodhouse?

No, because... That's what I always did.

I'm sure you did, but Woodhouse is about to be murdered, so...

So are you, if you piddle in here.

And that goes double for number two, Mr. Man.

So you just hold it in.

Wow, a ton of stuff just started to make sense to me.

The secret is negative reinforcement.

Yeah, I'm just getting that.

About time. Ass.

Baby, you're pear-shaped.

Oh, what the hell? Hello?

Great, that was my second-favorite...

- ...lamp. - Reloading.

No, you're not. Don't reload. Damn it.

Ow. And my first-favorite lamp, fantastic.

Serves you right, shooting blind like that. You could've killed me.

Yeah, and I'd be that much closer to a million bucks.

You know, once, uh...

- What's up with your will these days? - Oh, my God.

Since when is this place a nursery?

Would you knock it off, Union Carbide?

And lay off the wee baby Seamus.

He's got it tough enough as it is.

What's that? That's a bumblebee.

You want a pretty bumblebee?

There you go.

Oh, what's the matter? What happened?

Did somebody trick you? Hmm?

See? That's how the world works, dear...

...and I'm the only one you can trust.

Wow, a ton of stuff just started making sense.

No way. Why not?

Mr. Archer said Woodhouse might make a million bucks off of his.

Shut up, liar. Of things impossible.

It's not... Cyril, can you explain compound interest to her?

Oh, maybe if we had an infinite amount of time. And she were someone else.

Wait a second, is that...? You know tontines are illegal, right?

So is all kinds of shit.

But look, half the people that work here are field agents...

Who get killed in the line of duty all the time. And the control room...

Is basically just a great big asbestos lawsuit waiting to happen.

Yeah, here's some more claims forms.

And how long you think this one's gonna be around?

Yeah. Yeah, count me in.

No. Yes.

No. We must fortify our position.

We need twin Vickers here by the bar, a Lewis gun by the sofa...

Mustard gas. Zeppelins. No.

Guy's a hundred, he'll break both his hips pushing the doorbell.

I don't know, sir. Scripes was the toughest man in the squadron.

Just the squadron...

...or the entire pansy division? Ow!

- By God, you will show some respect. - Ow.

Do as you like with me, but I won't have a swishy party-boy backchat a war hero.

War hero? Oh, let's not...

Woodhouse? Damn right.

- Drag that up.

And if you won't tell him, Woodhouse, I bloody well shall.

Alas, poor Reggie.

He was on his way back from a routine patrol...

...on a Tuesday afternoon.

I'd written him a letter, you see, so I was waiting out on the field.

And he was looking at me... My God, I can still see him smile.

- When that Hun bastard dove in from behind.

And then the sky just shattered.

God knows how, but he kept the old kite from rolling over...

...and crash-landed out in No Man's Land.

- And? Then what? - Hmm?

Oh. Well, Reggie survived the crash somehow.

I survived the crash somehow.

So we could've sent a rescue party.

But with Reggie hors de combat, Scripes had become acting commander.

And there shan't be any rescue party.

Captain Thistleton knew the risk of what he was doing...

...and now it seems his chickens have come home to roost. Bawk, bawk.

A response I found unsatisfactory.

I could hear Reggie out there past the wire, screaming like a lamb.

I'm coming for you, sir.

And there I found him, in the words of Henley, "bloodied but unbowed."

Woodhouse, you came for me.

Of course I did, sir. I'm a... Fag?

Sir? Have you got one?

Dying for a smoke. Yes, of course. Here we are.

Cheers. Now, let me just light that for you.

Ooh. Sorry, sir.

Just give that another go. Good man.

Damn. Good God, man, are you hourly?

Sorry, sir. Here we go.

Woodhouse there's... God, that's bright.

There's something I've been wanting to tell... You scoundrel.

Is that brandy? Oh, no, sir. Just water.

Water? Never touch the stuff. Fish **** in it.

But seriously, I've wanted to tell you this for ages, but I never quite knew how.

I'm listening, sir. Woodhouse...

Fish **** in it.

After that, it's all a bit fuzzy.

Reggie!

Then what? Then they gave me the VC and my papers.

Ahem. Medical discharge.

Because of the scalps. For...

The what? German scalps.

What? He must have had 50 of them.

That's a lot of scalps. Could've made a blanket.

And then I just sort of drifted about.

Spent God knows how many years in the orient, on a merchant schooner.

Reggie!

Then I sort of washed up in Tangiers...

...where I won a bar in a dice game.

Oh, which is how I met your mother.

Don't shoot!

Please, I just killed a man and I think my water just broke.

So I could really, really use a drink.

Gave birth to you right there on that greasy bar.

I cut the cord, and I've been with your family ever since.

The... You...

- You saw Mother's vagina? - Hmm?

Oh, my God. Oh!

Oh, God!

Oh, I can't breathe.

Ha. What an ass. Right?

Mother? Mother?

- Where are you? - Oh, for... In here, you half-wit!

I had just gotten him to sleep. Don't you know anything about babies?

I know you're not supposed to have them on a greasy bar. In Tangiers.

Oh, my God.

And I know you're not supposed to let Woodhouse see your lady parts.

That's why you're so upset?

Yes. Eww. Mother, he touches my food.

Sterling, he also... Give me that.

He also saved my life. And yours.

Between my narrow hips, your fat head, and a city full of enemy spies...

...we both nearly died that night.

They'll come. We should get you somewhere safe.

Oh, a few minutes more.

I just wanna look at him.

Isn't he perfect? Aye. That he is.

Here, Miss, for the baby.

Oh, it's beautiful.

Clapped-out Arab whore traded it for a pint. Said it was sterling.

Sterling. That's what I'll name him.

Oh, that's a fine name. And could his middle name be Reginald?

No. A little too gay, but...

But how would you like a job?

I think I would like it very much indeed, ma'am.

- Oh, my God. - And if that weren't enough...

...that very night, he traded his bar for a boat and sailed us to Lisbon.

Got me to an OSS safe house, sold the boat...

...used the money to get you both home to the States...

...then raised you by himself for five years.

Wha...? What?

You heard me, young man.

Your mum's got home from the war. Give her a proper hello.

No. I don't have a mother. And if I did, I'd hate her.

Wow, he did all that? For...

You. And you've treated him like a dog ever since.

But you won't have him to kick around forever...

Oh, shit. Woodhouse.

Oh, my God, he's gonna be murdered. I gotta go save him.

Uh-uh-uh. Here. You want me to take a baby. To a murder.

Or wherever, just out of here.

I have no more love to give today.

Yeah, what is it, like, 2:30?

Wait, why did you have an eye patch?

Oh, who remembers?

Three-large 50, three large a Benjamin, three-large...

Idiots doing idiot things because they're idiots.

Ha-ha-ha. Yeah, we're the idiots. Says the genius who got a hooker pregnant.

What? Nothing.

Cyril, what? Noth... Oh!

Cyril? You dead?

Damn. Should I put him out of his misery?

No. Do you, though. Yes.

No. Wait, then I don't get the money, idiot.

You'll never take us alive, Scripes.

What do you mean, take you alive, Woodhouse? I only came here...

What the bloody hell?

Ow.

I say, I'm dreadfully sorry about that, old boy.

Bloody should be. Almost killed me.

Which again, from the bottom of my heart...

...is the last thing on earth I'd ever want to do.

I'd forgotten all about that rubbish tontine.

But all the mysterious deaths...

Well, I daresay, there's not much mystery.

They're just desperate to sell newspapers.

Gloucester fell off the roof mucking about with the aerial.

Wens and Bux died in their sleep at the pensioners' home.

And as for Stilton, there's no nice way to put it.

Auto-erotic asphyxiation. You're joking.

No, Stilton was always quite keen on that. Remember?

Always looking for something sturdy to loop his Sam Browne over?

I do seem to recall an awful lot of loose doorknobs.

Plus, what he named his plane.

I always thought that had something to do with the engine.

Well, here's to you, "Choke and Stroke."

To "Choke and Stroke."

And here's to the old Double Deuce.

God knows we had our differences, but I'm just so glad to see you both.

But if you didn't come to kill us, why bring that whacking great Webley?

It's Reggie's. I stole it from his effects.

I looked everywhere for that.

That's right. Damned wretched of me, I know, but I just wanted a memento.

But Reggie would've wanted you to have it, old boy.

I say, that's damned decent of you.

Cheers.

Took good care of her too.

See, look. No rust. Even the barrel's clean.

No!

Woodhouse!

Oh, my God!

The baby!

No!

I'm coming, Reggie!

Whoo! Ha-ha! What a move. Did you see that?

That was like Steve McQueen and John Woo had a baby...

...and that baby was you, baby. Yeah, pretty hot, huh?

Oh, my God. You... You...

No, don't thank me, thank the baby.

You ass. What?

Unbelievably gigantic ass.

Hey. Scripes wasn't here to kill us.

He came to mourn our comrades-in-arms.

Oh. "Oh."

That's all you have to say, you great flapping twit?

Hey, seriously, you... Corporal Bishop, the Webley.

The what? What's a Web...?

Thank you, Corporal Bishop.

The pleasure was all mine, Lance Corporal Woodhouse.

Shame he'll send you packing when he comes to.

Oh, I'll just yank his pants off...

...splash scotch and women's underthings about...

...tell him he slipped and fell...

...chasing a terrified Asian prostitute out onto the patio.

It's not the first time I bashed his head in and had to cover my tracks.

Happens three, four times a year. Right?

Well, guess you and me are the last two left in the tontine, eh?

Yes, I guess we are.

Hard to believe, that.

Well, we were the two youngest...

No, no, not that.

The fact the government let you two fruit-bats adopt a baby.

Uh...