Original subtitles

(gentle symphonic music)

- Madame?

- A saddle of venison, well hung.

- A saddle of venison, well hung, Mr. Worthington.

- One saddle of venison, well hung.

- A jar of red currant jelly.

- A jar of red currant jelly, Mr. Twistevant.

- A jar of red currant jelly.

- Oh, Craig, you're not holding up the traffic again!

Move on, move on, you fat and greasy citizen.

- Miss Coles.

A top o' the morning to you.

- Oh, Padre, back from your halls?

- Aye, Ireland.

It's a bonny wee country we got.

- Oh, Lord, now what country we in?

- Pound and a half of chestnuts.

- Pound and a half of chestnuts.

- No chestnuts.

- No chestnuts, ma'am.

- Padre, happy to see you back.

- No chestnuts?

- No chestnuts?

- (speaking in foreign language) Mrs. Flint.

- Ireland, was it this time?

- Wrong season.

- Wrong season, ma'am.

- Any news this end, as they say?

- Oh, very well.

Carry on Drake.

(horn beeps)

- Only that Mr. Pillson has disappeared.

- Good gracious.

Disappeared in what way?

- No one has seen hide nor hair of him for a fortnight.

- Oh, ill, maybe, you think on?

- Would that explain his refusal to answer the telephone?

- Then where can he be?

- Good morning, Elizabeth.

Not bumped into you since your honeymoon.

- Cherie, too lovely to see you again.

My Benjy-boy and I only got back two days ago.

And since then it's been upstairs, downstairs

and in the ladies chamber all day

until we got things ship-shape and comfy

and communal fair again.

But now we're quite settled in, (speaking foreign language)?

- (speaking foreign language)

- France, was it not?

-[Both] Oui.

- We were just discussing Mr. Pillson

and his non-appearance in our midst.

- I'm afraid I can throw no light on his whereabouts.

- Haven't even you seen him?

Fancy, he must be terribly ill.

- Men like to be left quite alone

when they're not the thing.

- Oh, that's not the way of my Benjy-boy.

Why he had a touch of chill while we were at Monte

and (speaking foreign language) did I get to myself

until he was better.

Wasn't it so, mischief?

- Girly as a wizard in the sicerum,

bucks a man up more than fifty tonics.

- I know what's happened.

Foljambe has murdered him.

- Miss Coles.

- He's burying him in the back garden at this very minute.

- Not very likely, dear.

- But it might be so, beloved.

Things like that happen.

Doctor Crippen and so forth, and so, why not at Tilling.

- Take no notice, Quaint Irene suffers

from an over vivid imagination.

- Quite.

One only has to look at her paintings to see that.

- One of these days, you'll see.

I'll be hung.

Toodle-loo.

- Like Crippen, no doubt.

So treats to buy, promise to Georgie.

I invited him to our birthday bridge party next month

and he sent word he was too malade to consider it.

- Or too mysterious.

- -Top o' the morning Mistress Plaistow.

- Mr. Georgie, not seen for weeks and weeks.

- Oh, we know Diva, dear.

- Something infectious, no doubt.

Oh, look at those delicious plums.

Mr. Twistevant...

- (speaking in foreign language) Bless you ladies, Major.

- Goodbye, old man.

- You won't forget my birthday bridge party on the 16th,

will you dear?

- So long as it doesn't clash with my calisthenics class.

- I hear you absolutely exhaust the poor ladies.

- Oh, who told you that?

- I hear they've been dropping out, one by one.

- Oh, it is rather strenuous.

- Au reservoir.

- (speaking in foreign language)

(knocking on door)

- Oh, Mrs. Lucas.

- Yes, Foljambe, "Oh, Mrs. Lucas."

- I'm afraid Mr. Pillson is--

- Yes, of course he is.

-[Georgie] Who is it Foljambe, I won't see anyone.

- Is that you Georgienomio?

-[Georgie] Ma'am.

- Lovely to hear your voice again.

May I come in?

- I must warn you Lucia, I'm very much changed.

- My dear, what do you mean?

(laughing)

(gasps)

(laughs)

Oh dear, is that all?

(speaking in foreign language)

- It's perfectly hideous, I know.

I won't be able to shave for a month or more.

- Why not?

- Shingles, my dear, shingles.

I've got shingles on my face neck, look shingles.

- Has Dr. Darby been to see you?

- Of course he has.

Do you know anything about shingles?

- Only if they go right round you, you die.

- Oh, thank you very much.

But when will I be able to shave again?

- Listen, quick as a flash, I have a piccolo plan.

(laughs)

No, not a plan, an order.

- Oh, anything, Lucia.

- You're coming to stay with me at Grebe.

You needn't see anybody but me

and then only when you feel inclined.

- But Foljambe?

- Oh, she can come with you.

Tell her to pack your bags.

I'll send Cadman to transport you.

- The cook she--

- Tell her to take her holiday.

- But the house...

- Oh, Georgie, for heaven sake.

Do I have to think of everything?

Shut it up.

Foljambe can come down every so often

and give it a good airing.

- Will we be able to keep it a secret Lucia?

- I perish.

My domestics will not utter a word.

- Oh, Lucia, it is nice to see you again.

- Oh, Georgie.

- I can't say thank you enough.

- Don't forget to bring your tatting.

- (speaking in foreign language)

- (speaking in foreign language) of course.

- It's agreed then.

Just until my shingles have disappeared

and I'm able to shave again.

- Of course.

Au reservoir.

- Au reservoir.

- And how is our poor malade?

- He's not very well, dear.

- But well enough to see you, Cherie.

- Only for a moment.

- I shall pop in after luncheon.

- Wiser to telephone first, perhaps.

He's very depressed already, bye.

(sighs)

(door opens)

- Where are you Benjy-boy?

-[Benjy] Ah!

- There's something mysterious going on about Georgie.

Poor Lulu's face had that guileless look

that always means she's playing hokey pokey.

- Did she say what was wrong with him?

- No, but I'm determined to find out.

- Probably trouble with his toufee.

Or thimble finger. (laughing)

- Now, darling, charity.

In the meantime, have you finished the crossword?

- Not quite, not--

- Let's see.

Number three down.

A disease often seen on the seashore.

- Turn it off.

- Georgie.

I have come to a decision.

- You'll cut my beard?

- No, not about your beard.

For once, about myself for a change.

- Sorry.

- This is what I'm talking about.

The obituary of Dame Katherine Winterglass.

- No.

- Then you've heard of her?

- No.

- She was a governess.

Dismissed to make way for somebody younger.

She received only 500 pounds.

- Oh, it that all?

- Yeah

-[Georgie] Tsk, tsk.

- But, she invested it.

- Wisely?

- Uh huh.

It says here, that at the time of her death,

she owned a house in Grosvenor Square

and entertained royalty at her estate in Norfolk.

- Oh, very wisely.

- She also disposed her bounty to any charitable institution

that she felt was deserving.

- Oh, you mean she just threw her money away?

- It turns out, that in spite of what she threw away,

or perhaps because of it, she grew richer and richer.

- And how did she manage to do that?

- By being bold, saying farewell

to tedious guild-age stocks, which are falling

and investing in gold shares in West Africa, it says.

Siriami, highly recommended.

You see, Georgie,

money is power.

- Yes, to a certain extent, perhaps.

- I have been letting my money lie idle

instead of increasing it by leaps and bounds.

- You might decrease it by leaps and bounds.

They say that speculation is a shortcut to the workhouse.

- Dame Katherine Winterglass, it says,

claims that any intelligent woman,

(speaking in foreign language)--

- Indubitably.

- Can make money every day of her life.

- I don't see much else.

This green shepherdess.

I'm tossing.

Now I must give her a hat

or rip her clothes off and make her pink.

- Georgie, no.

The clock, half past ten.

- Oh, is it really?

- Uh huh, time for the invalid to go to bed.

- Half past ten.

And to think that I'd been going to bed

every night at nine o'clock 'cause I was so bored.

(speaking in foreign language) Lucia.

- (speaking in foreign language).

- Five hundred Siriami shares at best.

- Good morning, Foljambe, and how is poor Mr. Georgie today?

- Getting on nicely, thank you ma'am.

- I was worried, because I saw

that all the lines were down.

- Indeed, ma'am.

- Will you ask him to telephone me

as soon as he feel up to it?

- Yes, ma'am.

- Good morning, Godiva.

- Well, then.

- What a lovely morning, (speaking in foreign language)

any news?

- None that I've heard of.

- When Benjy-boy and I were on our honeymoon au France.

Wasn't there some talk of the forthcoming election?

- No, dear, the government are there

for another two years aren't they?

- No, no, Godiva, local elections

for our very own town council.

- Because of Major General Bartleby Grasyon's death.

- I don't really Mapp.

Are we really interested in that sort of thing?

- We should be dear, we should be.

After our, Tilling is us, we are Tilling.

- Good morning.

- Bon jour, cherie.

- Good morning, dear.

Off to see poor Mr. Georgie?

- Diva, dear, I like it immensely, ten years younger.

Turn around, show us the back of your head, I love it.

- Here you are, dear, you dropped it.

- Oh, my dear, thank you so much.

It is rather important.

- Oh, I must be trotting.

So many commissions to do for my Benjy-boy.

- Now look here, Mapp--

- Just like a man, bless him, off to golf,

leaving wifey to do all the jobs.

- Now look here.

I've had my hair cut short.

Didn't you notice?

- Yes, dear, to be perfectly frank,

since we are such old friends, I did.

But I thought it far kinder to say nothing about it, far.

- Typical, absolutely typical.

- Bon jour, boy of mine.

(speaking in foreign language)

- This toast is cold.

- Well, we can soon get some more.

- Quay high!

- Oh, no, darling, we have a bell.

- Peek a boo, ah what a sleepy face.

- And why am I given this enormous tea cup every morning?

- Because tea is a splendid way to start the day dearest.

It'll keep you on your toes on the links.

(knocking on door)

- You rang, madame?

- Yes, Withers, some fresh toast please.

- Oh, very good, madame.

- Nice and hot!

- Very good, sir.

- So sorry.

Turn to the city news and see

if you can find something called Siriami.

- Army?

Siriami.

Siriami, Siriami, yes, here we are.

West African gold mine.

Shares moved up strongly yesterday.

Have you got any, Liz?

- Alas, no.

And my war loan?

- War loan.

War loan, war loan, war loan.

Down half a point.

(speaking in foreign language)

- That's what you get for being patriotic.

- Well, I shall be toddleing off to the links.

- Not staying for the fresh hot toast, love?

- No thanks.

- You'll come straight back, won't you?

- Straight back?

- After the game.

- You mean after the rowd.

- You'll come straight back?

- Where else would I be going

- No, of course not.

Play beautifully darling.

(kisses)

(kisses)

- Ahh.

- Mapp, I expect you heard the news.

- What news?

- Hundreds and hundreds of pounds.

- Oh, do start at the beginning.

- Oh, Lucia bought some mining shares only the other day.

- Well we know that.

- And she's made hundreds and hundreds of pounds already.

But she's in the post office now,

telegraphing for some more.

I think they're called Syrian Army.

- You mean Siriami, (speaking in a foreign language).

- Probably.

- Very famous mine in West Africa.

- I thought I might send away for some myself,

but just a few of course.

- I wouldn't if I were you, dear.

- Why not?

I've got some money lying idle.

- I always discourage anyone from gambling

who might not have the strength of mind to stop.

- I'd bet my strength of mind against yours any day.

Hello, dear.

Are you buying some more Siriami?

- Yes, I have bought another little parcel of shares.

My broker agrees with me that they might go higher.

- Diva's tole me about your stroke of luck.

- Oh, no, no Elizabeth, dear.

Not luck.

- What else would you call it?

- A little inductive reasoning.

I shouldn't be surprised if the price of gold

doesn't go even higher.

Of course, I may be wrong.

- I think you must be.

I mean there's always twenty shillings

in the pound, aren't there?

- Umm, too intricate to explain.

Another time perhaps.

- Probably wants to get all the shares herself

and be created Dame Lucia Siriami.

- Oh dear, it's all so confusing.

- Well, I must get on with my humble marketing

instead of buying parcels of gold.

- Ten tuppenny stamps please.

- Ten tuppenny stamps.

- And what's this Mrs. Plaistow?

- Ten tuppenny stamps.

- Siriami, is it?

- Yes, Siriami.

And two tuppenny stamps please.

- What's this, Mrs. Mapp-Flint?

Buy thin bunkered simians, is it?

- No, three hundred Siriami.

- Siriami?

- Yes!

- Siriami.

- Yes.

- So, sorry, dear.

- So sorry.

-[both] Au reservoir.

- Framer says this is what you ordered, madam.

- Shhh!

- Madame?

- It's a little surprise for Mr. Georgie.

I don't want him to know.

- I'm ever so sorry, madame.

From the framers, what you ordered.

- Thank you Grosvenor.

- Very good, madame.

(Benjy humming)

- Siriami, Siriami, Siriami.

(Mapp singing)

What a good laddie to be down so early.

- Now, Mrs. Mapp-Flint of that ilk.

- Oh, my financial post.

Now now, (speaking in foreign language)

You know that Lulu has become this great financier.

She buys Siriami one day, and the next they shoot up.

- Oh, really?

A stroke of luck for her at least.

- No, dear, you're quite wrong,

it's inductive reasoning.

How pleasant for her to have all the gifts.

- What?

- I thought it might be amusing

to see just what is happening

to Lucia's little gold mine.

- Of course, of course.

- Ahh, isn't that nice for her.

Up three shillings, quite a fortune.

- Oh, tremendous!

- Diva will be pleased too.

- Oh, why?

- Because she bought some yesterday.

- Did she?

How many?

- I couldn't see.

Oh, dear, Withers has forgotten

the Worcestershire sauce again.

- Uh huh.

- No, we are not quay high, pull on the bell.

(bell rings)

- Now, what?

- What?

- What do I spy?

Another financial post.

- Ah, yes, well I just thought--

- Oh, darling, make a clean best of it,

have you been buying Siriami?

- Well, I had a hundred quid lying idle.

- Secretive one, naughty.

- Ooh.

(laughing)

- Ah!

(laughing)

- How many have you bought?

- I? How many?

- Yes, come on old girl, out with it.

Three hundred.

(laughing)

- I guessed as much.

- Oh, what tremendous fun.

We'll make a fortune, and won't have to bother

about letting Mallards for the summer.

(laughing)

-[Together] Good morning, Withers.

- But how can I get to Mapp's birthday party

looking like this?

- I do understand, Georgie.

But birthday parties can't be shunted about like trains.

How is your poor face?

- It's terribly sore, still.

- Oh.

- It didn't went out and shave again.

- Oh, don't worry so, Georgino.

When you think of the modern quality

of the idyls of Theocratus.

- What?

- I was speaking about it at dinner.

Weren't you listening?

- Uhh...

- It is a timeless quality in terms of tempo, in fact.

Characteristic of all great artists.

Van Dyck, particularly.

His portraits, Lady Castlemaine, Elgwin.

- Surely Van Dyck was dead by then, wasn't he?

It was Charles the 1st not Charles the 2nd.

- Possibly, you may be right.

- Yes.

- But that's my point, he was timeless.

That print of his, over there of his Baptiste, marvelous.

- Which one?

- Oh, there, rather tucked away, I'm afraid.

- Yes, I don't think I've seen that before.

Say, what a striking face.

- It's extraordinary.

- Yes, it is very striking.

- No, no, no, Georgie.

-[Georgie] What?

- How can you be so blind?

Take a good look at it then look at yourself in the glass.

- Uhh.

- Georgie, you are Baptiste.

And it's the beard that's done it.

- I think I see what you mean.

- And to think you talk of shutting yourself away

until your shingles are over and cutting it off, my dear.

It would be artistic murder.

- Oh, well you see--

- Well?

- Well, what's so frightfully tarsom,

is that my beard is so gray that you might call it white.

You know there's really not a gray hair

on my head or in my mustache.

Yes the stupid things come out this color.

- Do you think it's because I'm run down?

- Of course it is.

As you get stronger, your beard

will certainly get it's color back.

- Oh, good.

- I think it's beginning already.

- What am I going to do 'til then?

- Dye it, Georgie.

- Dye it?

- Dye it.

Just 'til nature takes it's course,

go to your barber in Hastings and have it dyed.

- Oh, I shouldn't quite like to do that.

- Then you are being very unreasonable.

You admit a beard suits you, you can't stay here forever.

So it's Hastings tomorrow,

or (speaking in foreign language)

poor Lucia very, very much,

if you shave off (speaking in foreign language).

There.

(sighs)

- Diva, dear one.

And our good Padre.

Tea, everybody (speaking in foreign language).

And then afterwards, bridge of course.

- Mrs. Lucas, madame.

- Lucia, my dearest.

(speaking in foreign language)

- Elizabeth, happy birthday.

Oh, what a transformation of your lovely room.

Such a lot of work you've put into it.

- Mrs. Lucas, great pleasure.

- Major Benjy, what a picture of health.

Padre, my dear old soul.

- Major Benjy, Godiva, welcome to our little gathering.

-[Withers] Mr. And Mrs. Wyse, madame. -

Dear, dear Wyse's, come in, come in.

Of course, you know everybody.

- Yes of course, and felicitations.

- Thank you dear.

- Indeed.

- Oh, sweet roses.

- Now, tell me, Elizabeth, is it true?

- Is what true, Susan?

But if you've heard it, it must be. (laughs)

- That the Major is standing for the town council.

- Now, who could have told you that?

- That's an easy one.

He told me himself, at the golf club the other day.

- Oh, what a blabbing boy.

- Yes, I've heard something of the sort.

- As a man of position, it's only right

that he should have a share in municipal affairs.

- What would his platform be?

- Economy, of course, and the reduction of the rates.

- Reduction?

Is that wise?

- Oh, surely no politics on an occasion such as this.

- No, no, of course not.

My dear, dear friends, on this

(speaking in foreign language)--

-[Withers] Mr. Pillson, madame.

(gasps)

- Mr. Georgie, you've come.

- Yes, well, I don't want to miss it.

Many happy returns.

- Thank you.

- Welcome back to the land of the living.

- And with a beard.

- Very becoming, if I may say so.

(clanking teacups)

- You're too kind, all of you.

- Very Van Dyck-ish.

- Beaver, old boy, what, beaver.

- Oh, yes, most kind all of you.

I'm afraid that my arrival interrupted you, Elizabeth.

- No, no, nothing important.

- Oh, good.

- It's based on Baptiste--

- I was only going to say that on this occasion

of my (speaking in foreign language), after our tea

and sandwiches, should we dispose ourselves

to a rabble or two, no?

- And the stakes?

- Oh, the usual, surely.

A penny a hundred.

- No, the same as always.

- But surely as were all doing so well

out of our Siriami, a penny a hundred seems,

well mean.

What do you think Lucia?

- Siriami has certainly done me proud,

but I'm beginning to ask myself

whether there may not be more chance

of capital appreciation, if you follow me.

- No, I'm afraid I don't.

- Would you explain that, dear?

I have decided to clear out of Siriami and invest elsewhere.

- You've what?

- Oh, wonderfully absorbing,

the world of finance, is it not?

- Sweet of you to tell us, dear,

but my Benjy-boy and I have also been studying the market

and we've decided to buy more Siriami, haven't we boykins?

- Oh, now why did I sell?

Oh, yes, my broker tells me that no dividends

can be expected from Siriami for the next two years.

- What?

Nonsense.

(gasps)

More than two years, do you think?

- I won't get any dividends for two years?

- Benjy-boy.

- Quite charming to see what matrimony

has done for Elizabeth.

- In what way?

- She obviously dotes on him.

Fond eyes following his every move.

- Particularly when he returned from telephoning.

- Quite.

Another kind of cup of tea, he'd been after.

Reeked.

- No, I don't believe it.

- I'll bet there are whiskey bottles

buried all over the garden.

- Pure imagination, Diva dear, don't you agree Georgie?

- Uhh--

- It is not my imagination.

And you mark my words.

There'll be developments yet.

- I hope they'll be very happy.

- Yes, well, here's to them anyway.

- Well of course we all know the Major

was apt to lift the elbow occasionally.

That's all done with.

I think it must be a perfect marriage.

- They sleep in the big bedroom overlooking the street.

Together.

(gasps)

- How do you know that?

- Withers told my cook.

And there's a dressing room next door.

I've seen him shaving at the window, myself.

- You haven't.

- I have.

- But, I wonder...

- Yes, I wonder too...

- Yes, yes I wonder too.

- Hmm.

Then we all wonder.

- It's her ways that I find so hard to bear.

Her arrogance.

- Agreed.

- Achoo.

- Bless you girly.

- So, how is Siriami this morning.

- Down six pence.

- How do you know?

- I've already looked.

Mind you Lucia did tell us what she was up to.

- My fault then, I suppose.

- What?

- You think that we should have followed her lead

and sold our shares.

- Said nothing of the sort.

- Oh, go an play your golf.

- Why?

- It'll bear your cobwebs away.

- It's pouring rain.

Want me to catch pneumonia?

Hmm!

(sniffling)

Little bit of a cold, galy?

(whimpering)

What's wrong old girl.

- Well there's a (speaking foreign language)

to ask ,I must say.

You tell me I want you to cath pneumonia,

and then ask what's wrong.

- Oh, girly, no nagging.

- Oh, nagging now, is it?

I'd planned to make you so happy, Benjy.

By giving up my best room to you and all sorts of things

and what's barely worn, I hope you die of pneumonia?

- Well I didn't mean it literally.

- Just a touch of sarcasm, perhaps,

Just as you're sarcastic at times.

(gasps)

- Oh, that is a wicked lie.

Shamy, I speak firmly, perhaps on occasion,

but always for your good too,

with never a thought in my head but your true happiness.

(sobbing)

- Yes, Yes, I know that.

I know that girly.

There, there.

Now, now.

Anything a matter?

Is there old girl?

Nothing wrong, is there?

- Nothing, dear, that I can tell you yet.

("William Tell Overture")

-[Both] Three, four!

- (speaking in foreign language)

- And we finished together again, hurrah!

- Hurrah.

Oh, Georgie.

- Now what about some Glazunov.

- Of course nobody would dream of voting for him

- What?

- Major Benjy, standing for the town council.

And to make sure that it couldn't possibly happen,

I have decided to stand, myself.

- Lucia?

What absorbing news.

But are you sure?

- When I see my duty clearly, I do it.

Now, the Major wants the rates reduced.

- Well, so do I.

- You won't if you'll listen to me.

- Well, they are high.

- And should be higher.

- Higher?

- For the sake of the unemployed.

- Well what about us?

- I know how demoralizing it is to have no work to do.

- Oh dear, Lucia.

- I was sinking into lethargy

before I embarked on my financial career.

-[Georgie] Ah, yes, how is that going, by the way?

- Georgie.

Georgie, you see here, we live in the lap of luxury.

- Do we?

- What did I serve you for luncheon today?

- Delicioso pheasant, why?

- Do you know, Georgie, there are people living

in dear little Tilling, who never eat pheasant

from Christmas day 'til New Years Day?

- Don't you mean the other way around?

Sorry.

- The new road, for instance.

It will employ a number of men, but not nearly enough.

It should be doubled in width.

The slums down by the railway,

they should be swept away at once.

Pig styes.

- No bathrooms, no indoor conveniences.

Sometimes I feel I should give free baths

to the poor souls who live there.

- Wouldn't Grosvenor leave at once?

- Of course, that's why I can't do it.

My ticket will be spend, spend, spend.

I shall send in my name and set about canvassing.

You'll help me, of course.

- But I don't want the rates to go any higher.

- Georgie, listen to me.

It could be me and you have been spoiled.

We should do ickle more for others.

- Well, we shouldn't be doing ickle much

for the Mapp- Flint's for instance, should we?

I mean if the rates went any higher,

and they couldn't get a thumping good

let from Mallards next summer,

they might have to sell.

- In which case, I should naturally be very sorry for them.

- Of course you would.

- Of course I would.

- Thank you Withers.

We wouldn't need a new road,

if they didn't allow Susan Wyse's roses

to block up the high street for as long as she pleases.

And then tearing down those pretty little slums

near the railway to build new houses,

fairly expensive, spoiling the town,

taking all it's quaintness away.

- Trifle damp, maybe.

- Well, I had a dreadful patch of damp

in my bedroom last year.

Did I ask the town council

to rebuild Mallards at public expense?

And I'm told that all those new houses have got a bathroom?

In which the tenants will probably keep poultry.

Then they say, there are the unemployed.

Rubbish, Benjy.

There's plenty of work for everybody.

Only those lazy fellows prefer the dole and idleness.

No, we're expected to pinch and squeeze

so that the so-called "poor,"

may live in the lap of luxury.

If I didn't get a good let from Mallards every year

we wouldn't be able to live in it at all.

Economy, (speaking in foreign language) that's the ticket.

- By heaven, you've got the gift of the gab, old girl.

Right at the tips of your pretty little fingers.

You should stand, not me.

You talk to them like that, you'll head the poll.

- I?

- Of course.

Think, I mean, dammit.

You are the owner of Mallards, not me.

The rates should be your concern, not mine.

What do you say to that?

- Really, dear, I hardly don't know what to say.

Such a new idea to me.

- Well, then there's all that house-to-house canvasing.

Woman's much more suited to that than a man.

Cups of tea, pick up the baby, ugh.

- Dear me, yes, I begin to see your point of view.

Sound as a man's always is.

But will my health stand the strain?

- Mr. Georgie?

- Oh, Elizabeth.

- Just he person I wanted to see.

It's about the elections for the town council.

- Oh, with the Major standing, yes isn't it exciting.

- Well a small--

(horn honks)

wedge of news comes in here.

- Thank you Georgie.

Elizabeth, dear.

- Bon jour, cherie.

Mr. Georgie and I were just discussing

the election forthcoming.

- Of course, I expect he hasn't had a chance to tell you,

that I am entering the fray.

- Nor have I had the chance to say

that I shall be taking over my Benjy-boy's mantle

and standing in his stead.

- No, neither of those.

- Is he?

I feel it is my duty, as I take quite the opposite lan--

(horn honks)

Go 'round again, Cadman.

Those slums must be swept away.

- And?

- New houses built (speaking in foreign language).

- Vandalism, dear.

I shall go to work (speaking in foreign language).

Mr. Georgie, do I have the promise of your support?

(bell rings)

- Four Jerusalem artichokes.

- Four Jerusalem 'chokes, Mr. Twistevant.

- And then we must both convert, dear Lucia.

- Four 'chokes.

- You certainly won't succeed.

- Is it true, Mapp?

Have you trumped the Major?

- I am taking his place as a candidate,

if that is what you mean, yes.

- Four pounds of King Edwards.

- Taking a wee interest in municipal affairs?

Good, good, (speaking in foreign language).

- Four pounds, ted spuds.

- Cost what it may, no more slums, no more unemployment

in beloved Tilling.

- Four pound ted spuds.

- And Georgie agrees with me.

- Dear Monsieur Georgie, it will be the ruin of us all.

(speaking in foreign language)

- You mean the two of you are standing on opposite sides?

- Certainly looks like that.

- Two bunches of asparagus.

And one of cress.

- What a scream.

- Dear, Lucia, as a comparatively new resident of Tilling.

You cannot be expected to know much

about municipal spending.

- Two asparagrass and one of cress.

- I shall only be too happy to show you how the rates

of mine have been mounting over the years.

- I want them to soar.

- Two sparagrass and a cress.

- Naughty and reckless of you, Lulu.

- Oh, we must shoulder the burden, dear one.

- That's the ticket, street corner meetings

up with the poor down with the rent.

- Come, come, Miss Coles, the poor are always with us.

- Don't I know it.

- Quite a coincidence, isn't it.

As soon as you heard my Benjy-boy was standing,

you decided to stand yourself.

- Dear, Elizabeth, how can you be so silly?

- Do you say silly, dear?

- A saddle of venison.

- Yes, yes, dear, that is exactly what I said.

- Well hung.

- Because you or the Major standing

had no influence on my decision.

- Up and at 'em, beloved.

- But who's side am I on?

- Mr. Worthington, a saddle of venison, well hung.

- Saddle of venison.

- Well hung.

- Let me add, that I regard you and the Major

with the utmost cordiality.

And should you be elected,

which I hope and trust you will not be,

I should be the first to congratulate you.

- Such niceties are beyond me I'm afraid.

(speaking in foreign language) I must

get on with my canvasing.

- Saddle of venison, ready and willing.

- Winner take all.

- Mr. Twistevant, are these the firmest tomatoes you have?

- Padre, how many candidates are there standing?

- Uh, six, I believe.

- A good cross-section of the tune.

- Surely, it must be Mapp or Lucia.

(horn honks)

(gasps)

- I think you'll agree, Susan,

that the rates are far too high, and Mr. Wyse, too.

- Excuse me, madame, Mrs. Lucas would like a word with you.

- Susan.

- Ah, Lucia.

- Ho--

- Lulu, fancy.

- Elizabeth?

- What are...

- Do sit down.

(gentle symphonic music)

- Diva dear, just to ask you to dine with me tomorrow.

- I'll look in presently, Diva, sweet.

Just off to see the Padre.

- And have you two minutes to spare now?

- Of course.

- Sit here, dear.

- May I telephone the Padre, dearest?

I want to get him too for dinner tomorrow night.

- Delighted to dine with you.

- Thanks.

I'll give you a penny in a minute.

-[Operator] Number please.

- But I feel I must warn you.

- Tilling 2-3 please.

Warn me? Yes?

- I'm not going to vote for you.

- My dear, if only you saw the state of those slums.

- I think it can't afford to pay higher rates.

-[Padre] Hello!

- Hello, is that you Padre?

-[Padre] Yes, Miss Lucas.

- I hope you can dine with me tomorrow.

-[Padre] Delighted, delighted.

- Oh, capitol.

May I pop in for minute presently?

-[Padre] Uhh, make it a while

'cause Mistress Mapp-Flint is with me.

- With you now, is she?

-[Padre] Aye.

- Then will you ring me at Mrs. Plaistow's when she is gone?

-[Padre] I will.

Pick up.

- Thank you, Padre.

- I shall vote for Elizabeth.

- Diva, dear, didn't you make fortune

over my tip about Siriami?

- A fortune?

A few shillings, more like.

- Oh, let's talk about something else.

- What else is there?

The election is the day after tomorrow.

- Have you noticed any change in Elizabeth, lately?

- I don't think so.

A shade more acid, perhaps.

- And?

- I had thought that matrimony

might have improved her, but--

- Yes.

- Diva, dear, what are you driving at?

- Yes, go on.

- Oh, no.

Not that.

Quite impossible.

- I don't see why.

- Well the other evening, for instance,

I was talking about how attractive twilight was

and she asked me what twilight sleep was.

- A coincidence.

- And she talked about such pretty dolls in the toy shop.

- You're jumping to conclusions, dear.

- Well, I shall keep an open mind about it.

(phone rings)

- That'll be the Padre.

Will you tell him that I'm on my way.

(bell ringing)

- Bring out your dead!

Vote for Mrs. Lucas!

Bring out your dead.

Squad halt!

Three cheers for Mrs. Lucas,

the friend of the poor!

- Benjy!

(crowd cheering)

And three groans for the foe of the poor.

(crowd booing)

- Leave it to me, girly.

- The enemy in force, run children, run!

- Elizabeth, I'm just popping across

to assure you I know nothing of what we have seen, until...

Well, until I saw it.

- I think I understand.

You didn't see that pretty show, until you saw it.

Quite, I take your word for it.

- I very much regret it.

- That is great as us all.

People who demean themselves to perpetrators (stuttering)

gross outrages, only hurt themselves.

For me, they do not exist (speaking in foreign language).

- I quite agree (speaking in foreign language).

(laughing)

- Oh, come along, you two.

Want you back in half an hour.

- What's on the menu?

- Lobster ala risotto.

(laughing)

- And a bottle of beer, for Mr. Cadman.

- Ahh, three cheers for the friend of the poor.

- Oh it'll be a long time,

before Elizabeth gets over that, I can tell you.

- Quaint Irene won't be invited

to Mallards again in a hurry.

- I'd doubt if she'd go if she was.

It's obvious who's side she's on.

- Mr. Pillson says it's like

the feuds between the Montagues and the Capulets.

- Who?

- They were always fighting each other.

- Oh, which side won?

- The only thing is,

I don't know which side Mr. Pillson's on.

He might not even vote for Mrs. Lucas.

- If Mrs. Lucas tells him to, he will.

- Yes, but I mean, nobody wants the rates to go up.

And Mr. Pillson is--

- Darling.

- Yes, Harold.

- Eat your sandwich.

- Oh, you.

- Anyway, I'm taking bets on Mrs. Mapp-Flint.

Any offers?

- Mr. Cadman, that's disloyal.

- What, he might be right, you know.

Elizabeth doesn't think Lucia stands a chance.

- Well, that's exactly what Lucia thinks about her.

- Well, she could be wrong, couldn't she?

Here, do you know, every evening,

when they come back from canvasing,

Elizabeth and Benjy split a bottle of champagne.

And she drinks as much as he does.

- Not upset at him.

- Lucia doesn't need to take to drink.

The only think that worries her,

is if she's topping Elizabeth's bottom,

Elizabeth will be more of a pain in the neck than ever.

That and her feet, after all that tramping 'round town.

(laughing)

- Here, isn't the Major supposed to be helping

with the canvasing?

- Yes, why?

- Well, that's the first time he's been let off the hook.

What did I tell you?

Overconfident.

- What are you smiling at, Harold?

- I was just thinking, since none of it

makes a bit of difference to us,

why don't we have another paddle.

(laughs)

- Oh, now don't you two be long.

(laughing

- Mrs. Brook-Cummings, conservative.

251 votes.

(crowd cheers)

Harold Twistevant, liberal.

201 votes.

(crowd cheers)

Adrian Manningham, labor.

150 votes.

(crowd applauds)

Mrs. Emmeline Lucas, independent.

39 votes.

(crowd applauds)

Mrs. Elizabeth Map-Flint, also 39 votes.

(crowd applauds)

So, Mrs. Brook-Cummings is the elected choice.

(crowd applauds)

God save the King!

-[Crowd] God save the King.

- Well, never mind.

-[Georgie] Your day will come.

- Really?

Splendid piece of traditional pageantry.

Most interesting, quite medieval.

I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

And that noble story of his realist

first speech in the house of commons.

- Oh, Diva.

There'll be no dancing in the streets tonight.

- Hardened cheese, old girl.

- Mrs. Brook-Cummings will put up the rates as well.

- There, there.

- Where, where?

- We may have to sell Mallards.

(crying)

(gentle symphonic music)