All language subtitles for The.Horses.Mouth.1958.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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And good riddance
to bad rubbish!

Mr. Jimson, it's me, N-Nosey.

- Don't you remember me?
- No, I don't!

But you m-must, Mr. Jimson.
You've only been inside a month.

I looked after all your things
while you were in pri--

Jail. They broke all the
windows, but I boarded them up.

The picture's all right, Mr. Jimson,
except for some bullet holes.

Go away. Scram.

Tie lead weights to your feet,
fireworks in your hair...

kiss your mother good-bye
and jump in the river.

I don't know you.
I don't want to know you.

Buzz off. Explode!

You're not w-well, Mr. Jimson.

I want to help you.
Y-You're a genius.

Everyone says so.

You must let me help you
and learn from you.

- You again? What now?
- Officer, I'm being menaced
by a dangerous youth.

He thinks I'm Michelangelo
or Rembrandt or Van Gogh or Picasso.

I'd be safer inside.
Take me back.

Take you back?
Not in a thousand years.

I'll paint you a great wall,
the most exciting and
beautiful thing you've ever seen.

- Don't think the governor would approve.
- Then lock up this dreadful youth.

You'd better go down
to the police.

Now see what you've done.
Got me locked out for life.

I am sorry, Mr. Jimson.
I only want to help.

I want to see you a citizen,
recognized by society.

Look, I've saved three and a tenner
for you from my paper round.

Keep it.

No, Mr. Jimson!
You mustn't! Not that again.

Uttering threats down the phone,
that's what landed you in trouble before!

You mustn't do it.
I shan't let you!

I've only popped in
to press button "B."

Never miss an opportunity
of pressing button "B."

Uh, do you really want
to help me, Nosey?

- Course I do, Mr. Jimson.
- Add one and fivepence to that
and get me some cigarettes.

If I do, you promise
you won't phone Mr. Hickson?

- I promise. - I n-never know
when I can trust you.

You're a good boy, Nosey.
You'll never be a great artist,
but you're a good boy.

Get me some cigarettes.

Hey! Mr. Jimson!

- My bike! Bring it back. My bike!
- Stop, thief!

- Stop, thief!
- Stop, thief!

Stop, thief!

Stop, thief!

Stop, thief!

No, no, no.
It's all right.

He's-- he's not a thief.
He's a friend of mine.

You start yelling "stop, thief"
at innocent people...

- I never did. - and you'll find
yourself in hot water.

Now, be off with you.
And pull your socks up.

Don't hurry away.
Stay to lunch.

That's a real foot. No one ever
painted a foot like that before.

That's a leggy leg, all right.

If that leg could talk,
it would say...

"I walk for you, I run for you.

I kneel for you.
But I keep my self-respect."

That's it.
That's where it went wrong.

A white eye.
That's the feel of it.

Mr. Hickson's house.

- Hello?
- May I speak to Mr. Hickson, please?

- Who shall I say?
- The president of the Royal Academy.

Will you please
hold the line, sir?

The telephone, sir. The
president of the Royal Academy.

Hickson speaking.

This is the
president of the Royal Academy.

- I understand you are in the position--
- He's out again, Roberts.

Stand by the other phone.
We may need the police.

- Hello, hello? Are you there?
- Is that you, Jimson?

Oh, certainly not! I wouldn't touch
the fellow with a dung fork.

But Mr. Jimson is destitute.

If Mr. Jimson is destitute,
it's entirely his own fault.

And he will accept
your personal check...

for £250.

I'm sure he would.
But I don't owe him anything.

If this check's not in Mr. Jimson's
hands by tomorrow morning...

he fully intends to burn your house
down and cut your tripes out.

- Mr. Hickson's house.
- This is the duchess of Blackpool.

I wish to speak to Mr. Hick!

One moment, Your Grace.

Who is it now?

- The duchess of Blackpool, sir.
- Get the police and trace the call.

I took the liberty of doing that
on the previous call, sir.

- He'll be intercepted at any moment.
- Yes?

This is Her Grace,
the duchess of Blackpool.

Can you hear me?

- Very clearly, indeed.
- Dear Mr. Hick.

I am chairwoman...

of the Gulley Jimson
Mural Committee.

We have got to raise...

five thousand pounds...

to enable Mr. Jimson...

to carry out his three
great projects...

- for the nation: The Fall of Man--

The Raising of Lazarus...

and The Last Judgement.

- Mr. Jimson?
- No. That's my first cousin,
once removed.

An artist who's always getting
into trouble with the police.

He just went up the road.
Shall I call him back?

Have you just sent a telephone
message of a threatening character...

to Mr. Hickson
of Portland Place?

I only said I'd burn his house
down and cut his liver out.

Now, look. He doesn't want
to prosecute, but if you go on
making a nuisance of yourself...

well, he's gonna
have to take steps.

Would he rather I cut
his liver out without phoning?

Now, come now, Mr. Jimson.
Put yourself in his place.

I wish I could.
It's a very nice place.

Just a minute.

Do it again, and you're for it.

That's better. A good bash and
you get what you want out of life.

- That's been my experience.
Now, what was it?
- The usual.

They tried religion on me as soon as
they saw what I was gonna look like.

They always try it on the flatfoot
squaws, but I had my pride.

It's not fair of God to make a girl
and give her a face like mine.

- No religion for Cokey.
- I'm a Primitive meself, but
I'm not one of the strict ones.

Now, my missus is a Peculiar.
She is strict.

Wind shifted.

- Gone round to the east.
- Any messages for me?
Letters, parcels, invitations?

Proper nipping, that breeze.
Red noses tomorrow.

So you're out.
I thought it was Friday.

A nice fool you made of yourself,
uttering menaces at your age.

I got in a state, Cokey.
Half a mild.

I got thinking how I'd been
done, and it made me mad.

You were lucky to get off
with a month.

I rang him again this morning.
Wanted to give him a little fright.

- I suppose you're proud.
- Put it on the slate
and lend me 50 quid.

- Don't be silly.
- Make it 40, then.
I've got to get back to work.

What about the four pounds,
nine and six you owe me?

- I've not been in a position to earn it.
- You never are.

My boy's in a good position. Ten
pounds a week at the gas works.

Not like me daughter.
She's deaf. Runs in the family.

Look, we'll do a deal. Lend me
32 bob, add on the price of the
beer, and I owe you six quid.

- Not bloody likely.
- I've got security.

- I've heard that before too.
- Same again, miss, please.

- Cross me heart. Listen to this.
- It's the girls that get it, not the boys.

- The boys have ears like water rats.
- I'd rather be blind than deaf.

Not that I haven't had enough
trouble with my earache.

"Dear Gulley Jimson. You will excuse,
I hope, my temerity in writing to you--"

- Well, read it yourself.
- Who's it from?

A.W. Alabaster, secretary to Sir
William Beeder, the millionaire.

Sir William wants to buy some of
my early works. Go on, read it.

I'd rather be deaf, meself. I likes to
see the world. You can do without talk.

- Shut up.
- Shut up.

He's a millionaire, Cokey.
You can trust him.

That letter's worth 15 bob.
Come on. I've gotta get paints.

What are you gonna do about
this?

I haven't time
to do anything about it.

Sir William Beeder offers you £500
for one of your early pictures...

- and you haven't got time
to do anything about it?
- I haven't got the pictures.

- When Sal left me,
she took them with her.
- Where?

- To my old friend, Hickson.
- She ought to be hung on hooks.

♪ Where have you been all the
day Billy boy ♪

♪ Billy boy Where have you been
all the day, my Billy boy ♪

You and me's gonna pay
a little call on Mrs. Jimson.

- She's Mrs. Monday now, Cokey.
- Whatever she calls herself,
she's not gonna make a fool...

out of you, and she's not gonna
make a fool out of me.

I want my four pounds, nine and six,
and we'll go tomorrow morning.

- You can keep the rest of the 500.
- Suits me.

♪♪ Can you let me have
five bob on account?

♪ And me Nancy
tickled me fancy ♪

♪ Oh, me darling Billy boy ♪♪

- Disgusting, I call it.
- How did you get in?

Through the hatch. It's disgusting
what they've done. They've ruined it!

I can patch it. It's the little
air-gun holes that are the nuisance.

They've written names
all over Eve, Mr. Jimson.

Mr. Jimson's just gone out.
He saw you coming.

I brought you some coffee
and sausage rolls.

- Don't they ever give you any
homework? - It's the holidays.

If you want to get that
scholarship and go to Oxford...

and get into the civil service
and be a great man...

and have £2,000 a year...

and a nice wife and a kid with real eyes
that open and shut, go home and work.

It's nice and hot.
There's sugar in it.

Mr. Jimson won't be back for some time.
I'll drink it for him.

Now go home!

I want to be an artist.
I want you to help me.

Of course you want to be an
artist! Everybody does once.

- But they get over it,
like measles and chicken pox.
- But there have to be artists!

And lunatics too! But why go and live
in an asylum before you're sent for?

I d-don't want to
bother you, Mr. Jimson.

But I don't know
any other real artists.

I'll tell you a secret.
Jimson never was an artist.

You know what the critics said
about him in the 1920s?

They said he was a nasty young man
who tried to advertise himself...

by painting and drawing like a
child of six, and since then
he's got worse.

- But they always say that, don't they?
- Sometimes they're right.

Now, Jimson's papa was
a real artist.

He painted noses
in the right place.

He got into the Academy.
He worked 16 hours a day for 50 years...

and died a pauper.

But he went on painting.

You're mad! You're daft!
You're out of your mind!

Get out of here, quick!

Go and do something sensible,
like shooting yourself!

But don't be an artist!

Skipper's aboard.

Let go, forward!
Let go, aft!

No hawkers! No circulars!

Beware of the dog.

- A fine old mess. - I tried
putting in little white fish,
but that wouldn't work.

- You ready?
- For what?

That ex-wife of yours.

- I'm busy. - You put that down
and come with me.

Tomorrow, Cokey.

Some other time.

Well, look at Adam's old knob of
a shoulder. Like a lump of meat.

Call that a man.
I call it a dwarf.

What'd you do it with-- egg?
It's gotta be today.

I got the morning off
on purpose. Get your hat on.

Sarah Monday, Hickson, Beeder.
And my four pounds, fourteen and six.

I admire you, Cokey.

- Obstinate as a mule, aren't you?
- Yes.

So's Sarah Monday.

Where did you pick her up?
Is there a place for these models...

or did you pick her up
off the street?

Oh, she wasn't a model,
and I didn't pick her up.

- She was a married woman,
and she picked me up.
- Disgusting.

Oh, a regular man-eater,
Sarah, when I first knew her.

Just getting up in the 30s,
and full blast on all cylinders.

Don't tell me about her! I can
see her. Which house is it?

Search me. But I bet you five
bob it's the one with the
brightest polished doorknob.

- Dicky?
- Great Scott.

- Dicky? - It's the old
dreadnought herself.

Why, it's not you, Gulley?

- No, I'm Mr. Foster from Gloucester.
- Well, isn't that nice.

You haven't seen a little boy
with a ginger moustache
coming along the street?

- You might have heard him cough.
- Excuse me, Mrs. Monday.

I'm Miss D. Coker,
a friend of Mr. Jimson's.

We want a few words with you,
and not in the street, if you please.

Certainly, Miss D. Coker.
Please come inside.

Excuse things as they are, but I
wasn't expecting visitors so early.

And I never expected to see you,
Gulley. Gave me quite a turn.

Do sit down. Excuse me.

- Dicky?
- I don't want any tricks from you.

Excuse me being so rude, but I'm
so worried about my little boy.

My husband's little boy,
I should say.

We came on business. We'll stick
to that, if you don't mind.

That's right.
I'll just see how the kettle is.

Don't sit down, Mr. Jimson.

If you sit down in her house,
it'll all come out against us in court.
I know her sort.

You don't know Sarah, Cokey.

She's got better tricks than
that.

Oh, dear. I get so short
of breath since I had flu.

Excuse me leaving you like that,
Miss Coker.

Kettle won't be a moment.
Then we can have some tea. Do sit down.

We've come about the pictures
painted by Mr. Jimson here
that you sold to Mr. Hickson.

- That's right, Miss Coker.
- Well, I don't call it right.
I call it robbery.

That's right. Why, Gulley.
It's a real pleasure.

Mr. Hickson said the pictures
weren't properly finished...

and we owed a lot of money
all round.

Then Mr. Jimson left me, and I
didn't know when he was coming back.

And, of course, when Mr. Hickson
said he'd pay all the debts...

I was in such a whirl
I didn't know how to say no.

And you didn't think my pictures
worth tuppence anyway.

Oh, yes, Gulley. I always thought
you were a lovely artist.

It's just like old times.
How well you look!

Oh, come off it, Sal. We're both
tottering into the grave.

Oh, you may well say that of me,
Gulley. But he doesn't look a day older.

What a pity my husband's on duty
this morning. He would like to
have seen you.

You old fool!

Why don't you stand up to her?
She's twisting you around her
little finger!

Not me. I know her game.

Not but what you can't get right
down in the dirt if you want.

But I don't care, as long as I get
the evidence she stole those pictures...

and I get my fourpence,
fourteen and six.

Excuse me, Miss Coker, offering
you cake with a slice out.

But little Dicky keeps
pestering me, poor mite.

And he's got such a bad cough,
I just gave him a piece.

- You keep off the subject
of Mr. Jimson's pictures.
- That's right.

Will you sign a paper to say Mr. Jimson
didn't ought to have been swindled?

That's right.
Oh, dear. No sugar.

I can't get over seeing you
again.

Dicky! Dicky!

Dicky?

Excuse me, Miss Coker.

I could've sworn I heard
Dicky cough just now.

How are the paintings going,
Gulley-- nicely?

- How are your poor legs?
- Bent.

How are you really, Sal?
I can see Mr. What's-his-name--
present owner-- Monday...

takes good care
of valuable property.

As we came on business, perhaps
we'd better get on with it.

There were 19 canvasses
and 300 drawings.

- No. There were only 18.
- Where's the other one?

I don't know. I never could find
it. It must've got lost.

It wasn't the one you liked so
much? Of yourself on the bed?

You were always taking a peep at it,
admiring yourself in your skin.

Well, I must say I never had any trouble
with my skin, like some people. Aaah!

Oh. Thought I was bitten.

Excuse me. You'll never know the
trouble we have keeping them out
of the furniture.

Sign here, Mrs. Monday.
We've wasted enough time.

Oh, you brought a pen.
How thoughtful of you.

I was worried about
not having a proper pen.

- You're signing for 19 pictures
and you only gave Hickson 18.
- That's right.

You don't care what you sign.
You've always got something up
your sleeve.

- That's right.
- Thank you, Mrs. Monday.
That's all we require.

- Come on, Mr. Jimson.
We're off to Mr. Hickson.
- Hickson?

Oh, no, not this morning. I've
had enough. I'm not interested.

Maybe you're not, but I am.
And you've got that millionaire to see.

Oh, there you are!
This is Dicky.

Where have you been, you bad
boy? Say how do you do.

- This is Mr. Jimson. He's an artist.
- Since when?

You've never seen a real
artist before, have you?

You've got the right idea, son.
Why don't you bite me?

That's the way to treat strangers.
Make them respect you.

- Are you coming, or are you not?
- No, I'm not.

You'll get a crack from me
if you don't.

I hope she looks after you
properly, Gulley.

She? She doesn't look after me.

- I'm me own man.
- Are you comin', or am I goin'?

Good-bye, Gulley.
You look so young, I--

I can't get over it.

Ta-ta.

Well, if I said I was surprised at you,
Mr. Jimson, it wouldn't be true.

I've seen too many dirty old men,
and some of them didn't know better!

- But pinching!
- It was only a howdy-do...
with an old acquaintance.

- You're my steady.
- Not me!

I'm nobody's steady but my own.

Miss D. Coker, Mr. G. Jimson,
to see Mr. Hickson on business.

I will inquire
if Mr. Hickson is at home.

If you'll please come this way.

I should've phoned
to see if he was in.

Hickson doesn't put much faith
in the telephone.

Wait here, please.

- Who was that? - Hickson's man.
Always in a dark suit.

Well, how could I tell
he wasn't a gentleman?

You're not meant to, first time.

- Look at this.
- I pity the poor girl
that's gotta dust this lot.

Chunky work,
but look at the detail.

Nice place. Nice stuff.

Keeps it nice too.

Come here, Cokey.

Where's your Rubens now,
or your Renoir?

- Who did it?
- I did.

- It's not that Sarah.
- What's it matter who it is?

How could she show herself like that?
Such a lump too. It's disgraceful.

It's a work of genius, Cokey.
It's worth £50,000.

It's worth anything you like...

because it's unique.

And Hicky's clever enough
to know it.

Oh, now this old stuff's worn to shreds.
It wants a nice bit of chintz on that.

- Look at my picture, Cokey.
- I saw it once.

- You didn't think about it.
- I know if it was a postcard...

and some poor chap tried to
sell it, he'd get 14 days.

You're missing
a big slice of life, Cokey.

Half a minute of revelation is worth
a million years of know nothing.

Who lives a million years?

A million people every 12
months.

I'll show you how to look
at a picture.

Don't look at it.
Feel it with your eyes.

First feel the shapes
in the flat.

Like patterns.

Then feel it in the round.

Feel all the smooth
and sharp edges.

The lights and the shades.

The cools and the warms.

Ah, the jugs look real.
I'll give you that.

Now feel the chair...

the bathtub...

the woman.

Not any old tub or woman...

but the tub of tubs...

and woman of women.

I suppose there's some sense in
it. Oh, I know you're clever.

Do you think I'd have
any patience if you weren't?

I'd shove you in
the first dustbin.

- I'm trying to teach you something!
- What?

- A great happiness.
- Looking at a big fat tottie in a bath?

Do you think
I'm a dirty old man?

Jimson, I don't know what you've
come for, but if you and this
lady intend to make trouble--

Oh, no, Coker's very
law-abiding.

She has an artistic way of
expressing herself, that's all.

- Uh, Miss Coker, Mr. Hickson.
- Pleased to meet you, sir.

- Mr. Hickson, this morning, me and--
- Please sit down.

Well, this morning,
me and Mr. Jimson...

called at the house
of Mrs. Jimson that was...

- and now calls herself Mrs. Monday.
- Miss Coker.

Jimson owed me a large sum
of money. Some £400.

Mrs. Jimson offered me 18
canvasses in settlement of this
debt. I accepted her offer.

Oh, as I understand it,
there were 19.

Mrs. Jimson-- Oh, I beg her
pardon, Mrs. Monday--

kept one for herself
for sentimental reasons.

- Did you hear that, Mr. Jimson?
- I heard.

Now you had 18 pictures
for £400.

And that one's worth
£50,000 by itself.

Hardly.
Perhaps someday.

All I can say is that
I wouldn't take 5,000 for it.

Well, it's barefaced robbery!
Mr. Jimson, where are you?

- Improving myself. Appreciating
the rare and the beautiful.
- Come here at once.

Madam, I don't even
quite understand the position.

In all, Jimson has had
some £3,000 from me.

Apart from various loans, I have
given him two pounds a week...

without any obligation
whatever...

for some considerable time.

You old fraud.

£3,000 pounds!
And you said he'd robbed you.

That's what you said, Cokey.
What I said was that he got my
pictures cheap.

You been telling a lot of lies
and borrowing money under false
pretenses.

Please, please.
Don't let's have any argument.

I'm quite prepared to resume
Jimson's allowance...

provided that he promises
not to ring me up.

I'm an old man, Jimson, and I don't
very much mind if you murder me.

But I cannot stand
all this telephoning.

- It upsets the servants,
and they give notice.
- I hadn't thought of that.

I must have servants. I'm used to them,
and I can afford to pay for them.

And they probably wouldn't mind
working here if it wasn't for you.

May I have a word with you, sir,
in private?

- It's rather urgent.
- Certainly, Roberts.

Excuse me a moment.

- What's going on?
- It's a conference
between master and man.

They're deciding who does the work.

He's telephoning.

Have you been up to anything
in there?

What have you got in your pockets?
I thought you looked a bit bulgy.

You'll go to chokey for years
this time, and I won't be sorry!

Come out with them, quick.

Why all the fuss?

Hicky doesn't appreciate
the stuff anyway.

Don't be silly.
That butler's onto it already.

What's this?

I've seen her before. Oh, I'll give
you a good big punch for this!

I'm not gonna be seen
with a thief!

It's the police he's on to.

- I don't believe that.
- It's the police, I tell you!

Shh!

- Do you hear anything?
- Shh, sir.

I can't hear a thing.

Well, I can.
It's the police car.

Oh! That treacherous
old crocodile!

Oh, no, no!
No, no, no!

Up here, boys!

They're starving an artist to death!

No, no, no!

The police, Roberts.
Let them in!

I don't see why they have to
break the window.

- Oh!
- Oh, murder! Murder!

The kitchen,
Roberts! The kitchen.

Down the passage.

And I'm giving a month's notice!

Good morning. I'm the gas man,
and this is my daughter, Gladys.

Oh, I wasn't expecting you.
The meter's in the pantry.

I say, you two.
This taxi's taken.

I'm Dr. A.W. Alabaster,
in a hurry...

taking this lady
to St. George's Hospital.

I'm not going through with it, Mr. Jimson!
There's nothing the matter with me.

Pay no attention, gentlemen.
She's a little overwrought.

- Hey, driver!
- Don't fool with the man at the wheel.

If you have been up to any
hanky-panky, we'll call the police.

She's not a girl for
hanky-panky, I assure you...

and the police
know all about us.

- Don't they, Gladys?
- Oh, I've had enough.

Here's your letter. You go and see
your millionaire on your own.

And don't forget the money you
owe me, and send it registered.

I don't want to see you
again, ever.

Shock treatment,
that's what she wants.

Oh, excuse me.

"Sir William and Lady Beeder.
Chatfield Court."

Thank you.
Oh, we've passed it!

And every space as small as
a globule of man's blood--

such as this we now occupy--

opens into eternity.

I quote from old man Blake.

Are you sure Sir William and
Lady Beeder are expecting you?

Expecting me? They're down
on their knees praying for me.

Top floor.

6-B, on the left.

What are you waiting for?
Think I'm gonna walk off with the door?

I beg your pardon.
I thought I heard the bell.

- Uh, are you the butler here?
- Hardly. I'm Sir William Beeder's secretary.

- What can I do for you?
Are you lost? - No.

Now, don't tell me.
I'm psychic.

You are A.W. Alabaster,
and the very man I want.

- You have the advantage of me.
- I'm Gulley Jimson,
the world-renowned painter.

Mr. Jimson, forgive me!
I should have recognized you.
Yes, I'm Alabaster. Do come in.

It's all right, Hodges.

You understand we do
have to be a little careful.

Let me take your hat.

What is it, Mr. Jimson?

- Are you unwell?
- That wall!

It's rather bare, I'm afraid.
Lady Beeder has just had a
tapestry removed for renovation.

That's the wall I want!
I've dreamt of a wall like that.

I see it. I see it.

The Raising of Lazarus!

A yellow pair of feet,
long and stringy.

A black pair, huge and strong.

A child's feet, pink,
with nails like polished coral.

An old pair with knobbly toes,
curled into the dust.

- I'm afraid Lady Beeder--
- Oh, Lady Beeder, down in this corner...

in the nude,
laughing with pleasure.

- Sir William--
- Sir William down there.
Dead drunk. Asleep.

Unaware of the miracle
that's taking place.

Sir William and Lady Beeder are
out. They'll be back shortly.

- It would be great, Alabaster.
- Of course, Mr. Jimson.

Let me get you some tea.
The servants are down in Dorset.

Or perhaps you'd prefer
something stronger?

- Brandy.
- It's lucky, your dropping
in like this today.

The Beeders leave for Jamaica
tomorrow morning, and I go with them.

Six weeks of sunshine.
I take it you have a picture
for them. They'll be delighted.

- How much will they pay
for this delight?
- Well, that depends, of course.

In your letter you said
they'd pay handsomely.

I'm sure they will,
for the right picture.

Something similar, perhaps,
to the woman in the bath.
They've always admired it.

- Friends of Hickson's, are they?
- They dine together almost every week.

The world is too small,
Professor.

But I know where I can find
another picture of mine of Sal--
uh, the lady in the bath.

- Sir William will be thrilled.
- I'll only ask 7,000 for it.

Well, they're great patrons of
the arts, but they might think
that a bit steep.

Millionaires, aren't they?
If they want culture, they pay.

My dear Mr. Jimson, Sir William and
Lady Flora are most cultured people.

Oh, I bet they are!
Who are the most enlightened
people in the world? The rich.

I love millionaires.

Seven thousand is my price.
But I'll tell you what.

I'll paint this wall and throw
it in free, gratis and for nothing.

A raising of Lazarus that'll
make your hair stand on end.

Thank goodness that's that.
We've done our last-minute
shopping, and we're dead.

Good afternoon.

Lady Beeder,
this is Mr. Gulley Jimson.

You remember you instructed me to write
about a painting. He's just called.

- How do you do?
- Enchante.

- Sir William, Mr. Jimson.
- How do you do!

We are most honored,
Mr. Jimson, I assure you.

Your Ladyship,
I saw you in the nude...

squatting down by that wall,
laughing merrily.

But now I see you clothed,
rather foolishly...

clasping a cornucopia, from
which you're distributing
useless gifts to the poor.

Mr. Jimson's been telling me of his
unusual ideas for a wall painting.

- That wall.
- Oh, yes. Well, it was
a picture we wanted from you.

Something quite small that we
could hang in our country house.

- You shall have both.
- I'm sure that might be delightful...

but you see, we are just off
for our winter holiday,
flying tomorrow morning...

and I really don't think we can come
to any decision before we are back.

- Mr. Jimson has a picture.
- Oh, how exciting!

I see you have finished your
drink. Arnold, the glass.

- Yes! We could see it,
no doubt, on our return.
- I'm not sure about that.

The Archbishop of Canterbury
is most anxious to have it.

Ah, Lady Beeder--
Lady Flora--

I think you and Sir William--
Sir Willy-- Sir Bob--

are two of the nicest
people I've ever met...

and I shan't hesitate
to diddle the archbishop.

- You shall have the picture.
- I think we'd better leave
details until much later.

I think that's simply enchanting of you.
We're very fond of artists, you know.

My wife does a little
painting herself!

William, you shouldn't say such a thing
in front of a professional artist.

Nonsense, my dear. I'm sure Jimson
would love to see your stuff.

- He may give you a few tips.
- A touch more of the three star, Professor.

Don't you think it would be better to wait
for a proper session when there's time?

Of course. We have no right
to impose on Mr. Jimson.

- Arnold, get Lady Flora's portfolio.
- Poor Mr. Jimson.

You'll be quite dreadfully
bored, I fear.

William, I think I need
a little fortification.

- Good idea. I think I'll
have one too. How about you?
- Ah, thank you.

Everything about you,
Lady B., gives me confidence.

I know I'm going to like
your pictures.

Amateurs, uh,

Do much the most interesting
work.

Lovely. Only wants a title.

- I think the sky is not too bad.
- Charmant.

Oh, I'm so glad you like it.

Of course, the sky is just
a little bit chancy.

Just a little bit accidental.

Like when the cat
spills its breakfast.

- I think I see what you mean.
- Well, you get skies like that in Dorset.

This artificial light's
rather misleading.

A typical Dorset sky, that's my
point. Pure accident.

Oh.

And just look at the wriggle
of the mast on the water.

That's technique.

My wife has made a special study
of watercolor technique.

Oh, William, you'll have
Mr. Jimson laughing at me.

All you've got to do now,
having mastered this technique,
is to forget it...

kick your heels
and blow it through the keyhole.

I do see what you mean. You mean that
mere cleverness can be dangerous.

The kiss of death. Oh, this is
very clever and pretty, pretty.

But is it worth it? Ask yourself.
Use your loaf. Do some thinking.

But don't you think-- Of course
I'm not a professional.

A good thing too, my dear.

Don't you think the intellectual
approach can be dangerous too?

Ah, listen to them, Alabaster!

The poor dears,
the poor so-and-sos.

What do you think I've been
doing all my life--

playing tiddlywinks
with Freddy's color box?

More brandy, Professor. And help
yourselves. Let's get stinking.

I'll tell you something
straight from the horse's mouth.

You have to know when you
succeed and when you fail...

and why.

Know thyself, in fact.

In short, you have to think.

Yes, we're all very privileged,
I'm sure--

- How about your packing?
- Good idea!

Packing! You talk of packing
at a time like this?

When we are getting down
to fundamentals?

Fundamentals.
Now you're talking.

You should meet Mrs. Morton
Grainge Waring. She's always
down to fundamentals.

She has the flat
immediately below us.

Then call her up!
Let's have a party!

- That is impossible.
- She's gone to Java to study the dance!

I have news for you.

- I'm gonna be just a little bit ill.
- Arnold, the bathroom!

No, no, no, no.
I'm just going to sleep here.

- I fear you can't do that.
- I'll drive you home, Mr. Jimson.

My London house is shut up
for the winter.

And my aunt has gone
to Sing Sing...

to study the electric chair.

- I shall sleep here.
- But there are only two beds--
ours and Arnold's.

Lovely! Will, Bob, Bobby,
will sleep with Al...

and I will turn in with you.

I'm 50-odd,
well, call it 60-odd.

No, no.
Come here, come here.

So it's unlikely you'll be,
um, inconvenienced.

Oh! Oh, heavens!

William, what a situation!
What are you going to do?

W-W-Well, we'll push him out in
the passage, and Alabaster can
get Hodges to drive him home.

Oh, William, that's out of the question.
Poor Mr. Jimson, he's ill!

We really must look after him.
We'll put him to bed in your room, Arnold.

Oh, really, Flora!

And you can spend the night
on the sofa.

- Good morning.
- Good mornin'.

- Beeders gone?
- Hours ago.

- Didn't they tell you I was here?
- They left a message.

- What time is it?
- Past 11:00.

- You going now?
- I am.

- For how long?
- Six weeks.

Better leave me the key.

Message says,
"Give key to porter."

Oh, Lady Flora was forgetting
that I shall need the key.

I'll give it to the porter
when I've finished.

- That's not what the message says.
- I assure you...

Sir Bob and Lady Flo would be
most upset if they thought
you'd left me without the key.

There's the wall to paint.

I can't see it needs paintin'.

- What are your feet like?
- Why?

If they're really old, trampled feet,
as I suspect, I'd like to draw them.

Draw your own feet!

Old women's feet--
thin, flat, long...

clinging to the ground
like reptiles.

So.

Good morning.
Any mail this morning?

No. Beg your pardon. If you're
leaving, could I have the key to
Sir William's apartment?

- Mrs. Brace--
- Mrs. Brace has fled.
Her feet had wings.

- She left the key with me.
- I know that.

I shall be needing the key. I shall be
staying here some time. I like the air.

Oh, incidentally, my name is
Jimson. Sir Gulley Jimson.

- Oh, I see, sir.
- O.M.

- Oh, well, of course that's different.
- It certainly is different.

- Yes, sir. - If any friends
call, send them up.

- Very well, sir.
- Just slipping out for some charcoal.

Twenty-eight pounds,
twelve shillings and sixpence.

- Thank you. Very fair prices
for this time of the year.
- Thank you, sir.

- Uh, may I?
- Certainly, sir.

- It's a pleasure to handle
merchandise like this.
- Oh, it is, isn't it?

One mural, Raising of Lazarus,
plus Sarah on Bed, £7,000.

Advance: twenty-eight pounds,
twelve shillings and sixpence.

Balance owing: £6,971...

seven shillings and sixpence.

A face from the distant past.

One must be businesslike
when dealing with millionaires.

- I don't have much experience
in that line, sir.
- Oh, you will have.

What are you trying
to say, Nosey? Oh.

You still want to be a painter?

My, uh, better self
follows me like a whipped dog.

You want to work for me?

Make tea.

It's the kind of face you want
to throw a brick at, don't you think?

- Would you mind?
- Sir, sir! You're joking.

Scram!

Au revoir.

Arrivederci.

Hasta la vista.

Y-You won't get rid of me
by shouting, Mr. Jimson.

Miss Coker told me where to look
for you, and now I've found you.

- You really wanted to be useful, Nosey?
- That's right.

Then get me a tiger.

Tiger.

"Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
in the forests of the night.

What immortal hand or eye...

could frame thy fearful
symmetry?"

Not mine!

"Did he smile, his work to see?

Did he who made
the lamb make thee?"

Apparently.

We should have got
something live... from the zoo.

I like it, Mr. Jimson.

You like meringues,
cream puffs and candy floss.

I'm sorry. I should have learned
it's easy to offend
the faith of the little ones.

You don't offend me, Mr. Jimson.

But perhaps I'm not such a
little one as you imagine.

I've got eyes in my head,
and I like your tiger.

The trouble with you is you're
an enthusiast, like my dad.

He'd start painting a picture of
a girl on a swing and go right on...

to the shine on the rose thorn
and the pollen in the lily...

and then lacquer it.

Me, I like starting...

but I don't like going on.

For me, the tiger's dead...

and the rest is a blank.

What do you see in the blank,
Mr. Jimson?

A kind of colored music
in the mind.

A glass-green Lazarus...

stiff as an iceman.

"My mother bore me in the
southern wild, and I am black--"

How does it go on?
Where's your education?

"When I from black
and he from white cloud free."

Freedom, that's it.

Freedom from paint brushes...

from fear of yourself.

Freedom to do or not to do, or--

Freedom to come and go...

as you please.

Black, white...

yellow, black.

But Sir Jimson, sir,
he said he wanted to see me.

- How do I know that?
- That's what Sir Jimson said, sir.

All right. Go on.
Use the stairs, top floor, 6-B.

Sir Jimson said I wasn't to walk, sir.
I'm not to tire my feet.

Come on, then.

- How did you get such feet?
- What kind of feet, sir?

- Cheeky feet.
- I don't know, sir.

- What do you do for a living?
- I'm a waiter, sir.

- Ah, so that's it.
- I don't know what you mean, sir.

- Salut.
- Yonho.

Yassou. Ueggisheg.

- Kampai.
- Van dios.

Skoal. You know what would happen
if you took off all the waiters' boots?

- No, sir.
- Their feet would make
such rude remarks...

♪♪ the customers wouldn't
be able to enjoy their dinners.

Just as you say, sir.

I could only get 18 bob
for the teapot, Mr. Jimson.

You've been robbed!
It was a Sevres. That fellow
at the pawn shop's diddling you.

So I got some turps and the
yellow o-ochre and flake white.

Two tubes each.
That leaves ninepence.

Young man, I drink
to your gloomy future.

We can no longer afford
tea and sugar.

We are reduced to what was known
in my youth as "bubbly."

Do you want to sign the account
book now, Mr. Jimson?

You're my auditor, Nosey.
The financial situation is your concern.

Well, Umslobagas, it looks as if
I shall have to do you in white.

You've been wearing shoes.

Your feet are like something
out of a medical museum.

Everyone wears shoes, Mr.
Jimson. I can't help it.

Do you want me to answer the
door?

What door?

The bell's ringing, Mr. Jimson.

If you move your feet,
I'll chop them off.

- Umho.
- Hai.

Oh, no! Not you!
Remove yourself, Bisson!

I heard you'd struck it rich,
Jimson. You should've told me.

No sculptors for me, thank you.
All bash and no brain.

Go down any coal mine. Take your
chisel and dig yourself a hole.

Ah, Jimson,
that's no way to talk.

We're old friends. Share and
share alike. That's our motto.

- That's your motto.
- Remember the boots I gave you.

- They were your father's!
- What's all this nonsense?

- Papering the wall?
- No, you dog's biscuit!

- I'm painting a picture!
- Ah, looks like a lot of feet to me.

What a crackpot idea. They'll be
putting you away soon. Who are you?

- I'm Lolie.
- Well, get down.

No, you don't, Bisson.
That's mine.

Stick out your arm
and pull in your wind a bit.

Ah, you'll do.

Look out, Bisson!
You're about to die.

That's fine, just about here.
You won't be in my way.

Ah, she'll come through here
very pretty.

Get out!
You humbugging rock hacker!

You're not bringing any of your
monumental masonry in here!

It's a commission, Jimson!

Real money. Big stuff.

Take her steady, now!

- Lower three feet.
- Lower three feet!

- Hold it!
- Hold it!

Oh!

You miserable
chop-and-chance-it!

What do you think
you're playing at?

Get that rock out of here!

Shut up, Jimson.
This is tricky.

It's all right. The porter's in
the Red Lion. We're quite safe.

- Come on, give me those rollers.
- Bisson, I'm sending for the police.

Jimson, will you stop
larking about!

This is a serious matter!

It's a commission
from British Railways!

Let me go, you lout.
Let go!

Let go!

Anyone at home?

Mrs. Morton Grainge Waring?

She's gone to Java.

That's all right.
I'll work down there.

Come. I want to get started.

The light's not so good,
but it'll do.

Everything all right, sir?
I heard a bump.

Must've been an explosion
at the gas works.

It gave me a terrible shock, sir.
The old ticker's not too good.

Oh, I'm sorry. I wouldn't bother
to come up this far in future.

Pull her up, mate!

You down there! I'll only charge
you a pound a week for Mrs.
Whatnot's flat.

You hear me?

And for another 15 bob, my houseboy
will do a little light dusting.

Lovely h-hot stew, Miss Lolie.

I've got cramp.
I can't put my hand to my mouth.

Better try, all the same.

Aw, buzz off.

Lovely I-Irish stew, Mr. Jimson.

He hasn't e-eaten for two days.

- He won't even speak.
- Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Who cares if the old fool
dies of starvation?

He's thinking.

You're chilly. Better eat.

- Can't.
- Let me help you.

Open. Open wide.

That's a good girl.

Jimson!

Jimson.

I hear a voice
crying in the wilderness.

I'd like your advice. Just come
here a moment, will ya?

Just look at this, will ya?
Won't you come down?

I'd rather not.

I want to know...
what does it say to you?

It says to me...

"I'm getting smaller
and smaller every day."

Well, it is smaller, of course,
but bigger too, in a sense.

- Don't you think?
- Tell him it's wonderful, Gulley.

Tell him it's not ruined. I've been
in this position for six weeks.

If he keeps me here much longer,
I'll be stuck like this for life.

That's a very selfish thing to say, Lolie.
You're quite comfortable.

I'm numb.

Doesn't it say to you Mother
Earth surrounded by her dead?

It may say that someday.
But not yet.

Forgive me, Bisson.
I'm not in a receptive mood.

I've problems of my own. I'd be grateful
if you'd come up here a moment.

Oh, I could do with a stretch.

If I had a stretch, I'd snap.

Quiet, Lolie. Rest yourself.

Oh, it's getting bigger
and bigger, in a sense.

- What do you mean, "in a sense"?
- Well, it's all filled in.

- Any fool can see that.
- Frankly, I don't like it.

I asked you up here as a friend.
I didn't ask for your
pea-brained opinion.

- Too many feet. I'm telling
you, Jimson, for your own good!
- I don't want to hear it!

- Too many feet!
- Get out! Get down! Submerge,
before I chop your eyes out!

It's a crackpot painting,
that's what it is!

Stay down where you belong!

"Earth and her dead."

Chop off its extremities, it'll
do for a guided missile--
a misguided missile!

Drunken old idiot! You'll be in
Broadmoor before you know when.

He's mad!

And he's dangerous.

- Take a week's notice.
- We're going now!

Drunken, insane old fool
with the conceit of a devil!

Mean, mean, mean, arrogant,
complacent, filthy old phony!

He's right.

A crackpot painting.

Not what I meant.

Not the vision I had.

Why doesn't it fit...

like it does in the mind?

Thank you, that's fine.

Well, I must say,
it's good to be coming home.

- William, we've come to the wrong flat.
- Hmm?

- Oh, no, no. 6-B.
This is us. This is us.
- No, but it isn't it.

- Great Scott!
- William, the wall.

I can see it, my dear.

William!

Sir William, you're sinking!
Come back!

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!

- It's the monsoon!
- Oh, shut up.

♪♪

♪♪

Go away!

Go away, I tell you.
He's not here.

But he is here, Coker.
Home is the sailor...

home from the sea, and the
hunter home from the hills.

- I'm not speaking to you.
- Well, I'm coming in out of the rain.

- Aah, it's as wet inside as it is out.
- What are you doing here?

I've told you once, I'm not speaking
to you. Why don't you listen?

I am listening, Cokey.
What are you doing in my studio?

- Living here, that's what!
- You're welcome. Why?

Because I've got nowhere else to live.
Because you got my name in the paper.

Because I was a mug and trusted you.
Because I lost my job. Is that enough?

Why, it's a little bourgeois
bungalow you've made of it.

It's clean, that's all.
But it doesn't float.

When the tide comes up it comes in.
Where have you been all these weeks?

With my millionaire friends.
They came back today, so I moved out.

I bet you're on the run again.
Well, this is no place for you,
let me tell you.

The police are after you.

Quite a nice little account
they have to settle.

No one saw me come here.

I'll stay a bit.
Where's my picture?

Facing the wall.

It's better like that.

Here, you'll catch your death of
cold. Get out of those things.

- I've nothing else to wear.
- Take 'em off and get into bed.

Come on. Don't stand there
shivering. Do as you're told.

- And don't get the wrong idea.
- At my age?

I wouldn't put it past you.

Come on.

Well, don't be so modest.

All right. I won't look.

Oh, I've never known anyone as
bumptious as you be so modest.

You ought to be in the
workhouse.

Can't put me in the workhouse.
I'm a houseboat holder.
Have my socks dried, will you?

And my trous.

Heaven help us.

- What's this?
- My vest and pants.

You can look now.
I'm decent.

I'll sleep on the floor,
if you like. I'm used to it.

That's all talk. You ought to be
in the circus with that muck on your face.

Just hark
at that cough of yours!

Oh, I've been harking to it
for 30 years.

Thirty years or more.

I'll tell you how I started, if
you like. I worked in an office.

Oh, very respectable
and clerk-like, I was.

Then one day I saw a painting
by Matisse, a reproduction.

I saw it because some of the
chaps were laughing at it and
called me over.

It gave me the shock of my life.

It skinned my eyes for me...

and I became a different man.

Like a conversion...

I saw a new world...

the world of color.

- Are you listening?
- No.

What are you doing?

I'm saying my prayers.
I forgot them.

I thought you hated God.

- Maybe I do.
- Why do you pray then?

Well, he's our Father, isn't he?

That's a funny reason.

I've got things to be
thankful for, haven't I?

Earache all my life,
face like an accident.

Kicked all around the place by my auntie
and uncle when I was a girl.

But I got both legs the same
length, and I don't squint.

It's a sort of miracle.

That's something to be
grateful for, isn't it?

In the name of the Father and of the Son
and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

But I'm not going to be grateful
if you kick the bucket in my bed.

- Who did you pray for?
- Me.

Who else?

All sorts.

- Me?
- You mind your own business.

- Sarah Monday?
- Not likely.

- Hickson? - Why should I pray
for him? He's dead.

- What?
- Dead. Stiff. Didn't you know?

I reckon you polished him off,
poor old turkey.

You don't say much, do you?

Your poor old friend
popping off like that.

Well, you don't
have to worry anymore.

It's all right
about your pictures.

I read in the paper
he's given them to the nation.

I suppose you'd rather
have the cash.

Gulley!

Oh, Gulley, please forgive me
calling out like that.

You with all your admirers and
me drawing attention to myself.

- It shames me.
- Nothing ever shamed you, Sal.

It makes me blush, I tell you,
to think of all these people going in...

- to see me naked in a bath.
- You're going with them, I notice.

I couldn't resist another peep.
Not that it's your best.
Oh, it's a picture, all right.

They all are-- wonderful pictures, even
if they're not what you'd call pretty.

- You've been to this exhibition before.
- Twice last week.

I couldn't get in the week before.
Mr. Monday had a bronchial attack.

- It's his chest, you know.
- Oh, get on, get on.

Sal, the picture of you
in the bath--

Oh, it's not as good as mine,
the one you did of me in the bed.

- Oh, Gulley.
- I knew you had it!

- That's right.
- Now you can see your picture
every day in the gallery...

- you won't need yours, will you, Sal?
- I don't know. I'm not sure.

Where do you keep it--
in your old tin trunk?

Thank you. That makes things
very much easier.

- In your old tin trunk?
- I'm too upset to talk.

Seeing you suddenly like that
put me in mind of the old days
when we were young.

- They drive you at such a speed
to your grave these days.
- What's it matter?

It's not natural, Gulley. There
I see that picture you painted--

me as I was 20 years ago--
then we pass a funeral.

- It's unlucky, Gulley.
It's my unlucky day.
- Let's have a drink on it.

- To tell you the truth,
it's just what I want.
- Can you pay?

I can manage, Gulley.

It'll mean kippers for Mr. Monday
tonight instead of a nice pork chop.

You may laugh, Gulley, but ever
since I was a chit of a girl...

I've always dreamt
of a real posh funeral.

I don't want to be taken through
the streets quickly like...

the blinds drawn and no flowers.

Take me home and give me the picture,
and there'll be enough for six funerals.

If I can throw in your portrait,
the Beeders'll stump up 7,000.

You and I can go 50-50.

Mm, I just want enough for a
nice funeral and a proper stone.

You let me have the picture,
and when the time comes...

you can buy yourself
an oak coffin...

and a stone six foot high.

Oh, Gulley, God bless you.

You don't throw a woman's
weakness in her face.

You know how God made us.

That's the funny thing
about you--

you know about women.

When it comes to a wife,
give me a woman every time.

Pity we broke it up, Sal.

- Same again?
- Do you think we ought?

Ohh.

Sss, sss!

♪♪

♪ The king, he said to me
You are a marvel ♪

♪ At singing you have really
got the knack ♪

♪ Then from his tie
he took a diamond scarf pin ♪

♪ He smiled at me and then ♪

♪ He put it back ♪

♪ La de da de de ♪

♪ La de da de de ♪

♪ Then from his tie
he took a diamond scarf pin ♪

♪ He smiled at me
and then he put it back ♪♪

Come on, Sal.

It always did make me laugh,
that song. That wicked old king.

Wrap it up,
and I'll be on my way.

I don't know, I'm sure.

I hate to part with it.

Think of that stone--
Aberdeen granite.

"Here lies maid, model,
cook, wife and a true friend"...

in nice, clean
chiseled lettering.

Now that you're
such a success, Gulley...

I should think you could ask
almost any price you want.

What will you do
with all the money?

Buy ginger mustaches.

Oh, I just want room to expand.

I've learned a lot
the last few weeks.

I've a new vision...

something quite different.

Why don't you get a proper job,
a big boy like you?

Where will it get you,
being artistic?

A bed on the embankment at best,
more like a spell in the cooler.

Look out. Police.
♪ La la la la la la la ♪

Is that you, Melba?

Oh, it's you. I thought it was
someone respectable like the
inspector from Scotland Yard.

- Here, where've you been?
You gave us the slip.
- Never mind where I've been.

- Look what I've got.
- What is it-- a new chimney?
We could do with one.

You wait and see.
I'm on my way to the Beeders.

But I wanted Nosey
to have a look at this...

before it's put
in its golden frame.

Oh, 8,000 I'd get for this
in Bond Street.

- That quality-- fourpence each.
- Poor Mr. Jimson.

Done in the eye by your
girlfriend again, I suppose.

- Well, serves you right for
taking up with such people.
- I'll do her properly this time!

Look, we haven't even got
a larder to keep them in.

Don't stand there.

Run after the old boy and see
he doesn't get into any more mischief.

- Gulley!
- You didn't expect me
back so soon, did you?

Gulley, go away.
I'll call the police.

You wicked old windbag.

- Oh!
- Give me my picture!

- Gulley!
- Give me my picture!

No, Mr. Jimson!
Come out of there!

Open the door, Mrs. Monday!

No, stop it! Murder!

Help! No! Gulley!

Police! Help!

It's mine! It's mine!

Let go. Let go!

Stop, Mr. Jimson!

- Mrs. Monday?
- Quick, Mr. Jimson, this way.

It wasn't your fault, Mr. Jimson.
She slipped.

Mrs. Monday,
are you all right?

She's only knocked herself out.
Quick, Mr. Jimson, before they get in!

Mrs. Monday!

- My God.
- It's mine, Gulley. It's mine.

- God help me, I could have killed her.
- Let me in!

Quick, Mr. Jimson.
This way!

Never get spliced
to a scheming cook general...

or you'll end on the gallows.

We can't spend the night here.

I like it here.

Bricks and broken glass...

and an old garbage can.

It's the story of my life.

I can hear a ca-- ca--

Oh, hell.

I told you I could hear
a black cat.

Hail, fellow citizen.

She likes it here.

It's a palace, she says,
fit for a queen.

Mr. Jimson, come here!

Don't want to move.
I'm broody.

Please!

A wall.

The Last Judgement.

What do you think I am--
a surgeon?

Here you are, Michelangelo.
Square B-1 in the top left-hand corner.

- Oh, for the wings of a dove.
- Hold still.

Collect your paints from Nosey.

It won't stay white for long.
I'm a colorful man.

I'm sick of cleaning you up.
If you're going to mess with paints,
you're wearing this.

I'm not painting, Cokey.
I'm supervising my apprentices.
What's your name, dear?

- Sybil.
- Oh, speak up. You'll never
make good if you mumble.

- Sybil!
- That's better!
Let the world know who you are!

The great Sybil. Well, you take
C-2, the snout of the whale.

Nothing niggly, mind you.
Let me hear the paint going on.

- Call yourself an artist.
What do you mean, not painting?
- There's no time, Cokey.

It's a race against
the demolition boys.

Once my design's on that wall,
they won't dare touch it.

A British painting
of unparalleled magnitude.

- Excuse me, Mr. Jimson.
- Yes?

C-2 appears to be occupied.

There's some mistake somewhere.

Hey, you, fatty!

You're fooling around
in the wrong square!

Oh,
I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Jimson!

- Oh, Madge!
- Well, it's so confusing up here!

It could happen to anyone, dear.
All the greatest artists
got their squares wrong.

- Numbers were invented
by Arabs who hate art.
- We'll have to lower Madge.

Half a pint of viridian. You
two, give him a hand with Madge.

Come on, stir it!

You've never seen your mum
beating up eggs?

Or is your house
all modern machinery?

- Hold on, Madge!
- Hi!

- Hi, Madge!
- We heard there were painting
lessons from Gulley Jimson.

- That's right. Sixpence an hour.
- He's paying.

- For the three of us.
- Where do we go, and what do we do?

Give a hand over there with
Madge.

♪ Oh, dear baby wife of mine ♪

Oh, look who's here.

Dr. Livingstone, I presume.

- You've been warned.
- Are you a hot gospeller?

- You know who I am.
- Your face escapes me.

- I'm clerk to the borough surveyor.
- Oh!

- I've told you 20 times
in the last ten days.
- Oh, oh.

And when you've finished that,
you can start on the dam, D-8, 9 and 10.

We may need tigers and orchids,
fly catchers and flesh eaters...

We've run out of c-c--

flowers of evil, or a borough
councillor eating a baby for
breakfast.

We've run out of c-cobalt blue.

Well, go and get some.
Ask Cokey for the money.

♪♪ Miss Coker? Miss Coker?

We've run out of blue already,
Miss Coker. I'll want two quid.

- Well, don't be silly.
This lot cost 30 bob.
- But we've got to have it.

There's only 12 and fourpence
in the kitty.

Oh, look at that one-- chipped.
Right, that goes back.

One, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, nine, ten,
eleven, twelve--

Make her eyes hard, Elspeth--
steely, like ball bearings.

- Can I s-s-speak to you in private?
- I'm all ears.

We've only
12 and fourpence left.

Twelve and fourpence?
Well, give me the fourpence.

Let me have the coppers, Cokey.

- For the telephone?
- I want to make a small investment.

Thank you.

Keep the color clean. Keep it
balanced and enjoy yourselves.

Well, all I want
to know is, will it peel off?

I don't care to spend the rest
of my life with all those trotters.

- It's a national monument, Sir William.
- Yes? Who shall I say?

- A monument in the park is one
thing, in your home is another.
- I beg your pardon?

You wouldn't want to live with
the Albert Memorial in your
room, would you?

Arnold, please.
Who's it for?

- Do try to smile.
- I gather it's for you, Lady Beeder.

You know, I'm inclined to agree
with Lord Stanworth that it
would be sacrilege to move it.

- Who is it, Arnold?
- The duchess of Blackpool.

This is Flora Beeder speaking.
Who is it, please?

- The duchess of Blackpool.
- Who?

£7,000 in my debt, and I don't
suppose I'll ever see a penny of it!

And what am I left with?
Feet I don't want!

- Uh, can I get you a glass of sherry?
- Uh, thank you.

No, I-- I don't know
that part of London at all.

Oh, bring a checkbook.

I can honestly say
I'm the last person in the world
to harbor thoughts of revenge...

- Thank you. - but I would like to cut
Jimson's head off with a meat axe.

- Hear, hear!
- Oh, it does sound rather fun.

- Oh, but my arm.
- Renoir painted with one arm.

Oh, I see.
Renoir did, did he?

Yes, Mr. Jimson. I understand.

Slap it on. No Dorset sunsets.

Yes, I think I can manage that.

- All you've got to do
is paint the giraffe's eye.
- The giraffe's eye.

Yes.

Innocent, velvety...

river brown.

That's the idea.

You've got your whale upside
down.

But Mr. Jimson, surely a whale doesn't
have its eye under its jaw, does it?

None of your sarcasm, now.

My whales do, otherwise
they wouldn't be real.

- They'd just be pictures
out of a whale book.
- Shall I try and reverse it?

Not now. It's too late.
No, no, no, Flo!

Learn when to leave well alone.

- You mean it's finished?
- Finished.

Three cheers for Mr. Jimson!

- Hip, hip--
- Hooray!

- Hip, hip--
- Hooray!

- Hip, hip--
- Hooray!

The philistines are upon us!

Let them be. And remember,
girls, no roughhousing.

It's all yours.

Right. Come on,
get them trestles down.

If I paint a wall, it's as good
as asking it to catch fire
or be struck by lightning.

I had hoped that this would take
an earthquake or a world war.

I hadn't reckoned on a borough
council and demolition.

- It's blasphemous, and it's "obskeen."
- Who?

"Obskeen," but I'm bashing
the first bloke what touches it.

I warned him two weeks ago,
Sir William, when I first got wind of it.

This chapel's got to come down.
Borough surveyor's orders.

Now, clear away, please. Come on,
everybody. Everybody, come on.

Bert, the bulldozer!

Rotten baskets!

She's comin' down
in 15 seconds from now.

It's not my responsibility,
I assure you.

Oi, Bert, come on!
Get started!

Bert!

Everyone okay?

I'd know that cough anywhere.

I had to do it, Cokey.

Too much responsibility
for those chaps...

destroying a national monument.

Where do you think you're goin'?

I've got a few bits and pieces
to collect, then I'll be on my way...

to fresh woods and pastures new.

- Where?
- I need a new horizon.

Hey, you. Come here.

Yes, you in the pinstripe.

You great nob--

Miss Coker, before there's
a fi-- fi-- fi-- riot!

- Let me--
- Keep out of this, Flo!
Flo, keep out of this!

We need more sail!

We're in the doldrums.
Flog that man!

Skipper, you're
just in time to relieve me.

Let her go, Captain.
I'm away with this tide.

All gone forward!
Let go aft!

All gone aft.

She'll rip with this tide!

Helm amidships!

- Where is he?
- He's away, miss-- away with the fleet.

There's a river mist blowing up.

It's not a trip
I'd like to be making.

You old fool!

Where do you think you're goin', Dad?

- What's the big idea?
- Ah, there is good news yet to hear...

and fine things to be seen
before we go to paradise...

by way of Kensal Green.

I hope he drowns!

You can't hear me,
Mr. Jimson, I know, but...

Michelangelo, Rembrandt...

Blake-- you're one of them!

Just so you'd know.