All language subtitles for Good.Omens.S01E02.1080p.BluRay.x265-RARBG

Can I help you?

I would like to purchase
one of your material objects.

- Books.
- Books.

Let us discuss my purchase
in a private place,

because I am buying, er...

Pornography?

Pornography.

Gabriel, come into my back room.

We humans
are extremely easily embarrassed.

We must buy our pornography secretively.

Human beings are so simple.

And so easily fooled!

Yes.

Ahem, good job. You... you fooled them all.

You remember sandalphon?

Sodom and gomorrah.

You were doing a lot of smiting
and turning people into salt.

Hard to forget.

Something smells... evil.

Oh, that'll be the Jeffrey Archer books,
I'm afraid.

Well, we just wanted to stop by
and check on the status of the antichrist.

Why?

What's wrong? I-I mean,
if there is something wrong,

I-I could put my people onto it.

Gabriel: Nothing's wrong.
Everything's going perfectly.

There's a lot happening. All good.

Allgood?

Well, all going
according to the divine plan.

The hell-hound has been set loose,

and now the four horsemen
of the apocalypse are being summoned.

Death, pollution, famine, war.

Oh, right. Who exactly summons them?

Not my department.

I believe we outsource that sort of thing.

About time, that's what I say.

You can't have a war without war.

Sandalphon, that is very good.

"You can't have a war without war."

I might use that. Huh?

Anyway...

No problems? How was the hell-hound?

I-I didn't stick around to see.

Thank you for my pornography!

Excellent job.

"You can't have a war without war."

Cleve r.

Welcome back.

Now, the go vernment's foreign affairs
spokesman will be here to comment

on the recent increase
in international tensions.

But first do you know
what's in your fridge?

Morning, crowley.

Lig u r: Just checking in.

Nice chair.

- Hey, guys.
- It's about the antichrist.

Yeah. Great kid. Takes after his dad.

Hastu r: 0ur operatives
in the state department

have arranged for the child's family
to be flown to the middle east.

Ligur: There, he and the hell-hound
will be taken to the valley of megiddo.

Hastu r: The four horsemen
will begin their final ride.

- Yay.
- Armageddon will begin.

The final combat

it's what we've been working towards
since we rebelled.

We are the fallen.

Never forget that.

Well, it's not the sort of thing
you forget.

[ Don't trust you, crowley

everything's going just fine.

I didn't mean to fall.

I just hung around the wrong people.

Voice of god: Somebody has to summon
the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

But they outsource
that sort of thing these days.

Meet the summoner.

He has four items to deliver in his Van.

He works
for the international express company,

and he's about to make his first delivery
in a former war zone.

Sometimes, despite everything,

peace breaks out.

People get tired of fighting,
and pain, and death,

and are willing to start all over again.

Excuse me, who are you?

Carmine zingiber, national world weekly.

War correspondent.

Well, this is good, my friend.

It is good that a member
of the world press is here

to see us sign the peace accord.

Right, well, if you'd like to sign
this first, your highness,

and then the prime minister,
then the supreme leader,

and then we'll get a photograph
of all three of you together.

Wait. He signs first?

- It is just a formality who signs first.
- A formality?

You make me a laughing stock
in my country,

and you call that a formality?

Somebody has to sign
the peace agreement first.

They do, and it's me.

Oh, don't mind me, ladies and gents.

Oh, what a day, eh?
Nearly didn't find the place.

Someone doesn't believe in signposts, eh?

Package for you, miss.

You, er... you have to sign for it.

Well, it's a lovely place you got here.

Yeah, I always wanted
to come here on my holidays.

- Finally.
- Put it down.

Oh, you sweet thing.

That's not gonna happen, is it?

Sorry, folks.

I'd love to stay
and get to know you all better...

But duty calls.

Voice of god: She's the first offour,
and you can't have a war without her.

She's been killing time for so long now.

Time and... sometimes people.

And now, 60 centuries of waiting
are about to end.

Voice of god:
This is also the story of a witch,

a witchfinder and a book.

And the backstory
starts about 360 years ago,

with the last witch-burning in england

maggs: Witchfinder major pulsifer,
all is prepared.

Where is the hag?

In her cottage. She suspects nothing.

I thought you'd tested her with a pin.

We did.
Regulation-issue witchfinder's pin.

Pricked her all over.

And what was the result?

She said it cured her arthritis.

Hmm.

Of what else is she accused?

Predicting the future, mostly.

She told mistress bulcock

that adultery would be coming to town.

Such nonsense.

That's you, isn't it?

It is not me!

My given name, witchfinder private maggs,

is thou shalt notcommit adultery.

But you can call me
witchfinder major pulsifer.

So, they don't call you adultery pulsifer?

They do not.

Ag n es: Good milkman...

Bring no more milk,

not this day or ever,

for today .i' am to die in flames.

Yours, Agnes nutter.

Ps - my best wishes to your wife.

Witch! Witch!

They're late.

Pulsifer: She runs, I have heard tell,

with no-one pursuing her.

Aye. She says running each morning

in an unladylike manner around the village

doth improve her health.

Monstrous.

Perhaps invisible demons
pursue the witch as she runs.

No, she said it's good for you.

She said we should get more fibre
in our diet.

I told her, I said,
"it's hard enough picking out the gravel!"

Aye, she is obviously mad.

But how can we be certain she is a witch?

She cured me of the howling pox.

And cured my son of the bloody flux.

Obviously a witch.

All: Witch.

Witch.

Witch.

Witch.

Adultery pulsifer,

good people,

thou art tardy.

I should have been aflame
ten minutes since.

Right.

Mistress nutter?

- Woman: Hey!
- Pulsifer: Oi!

Woman: Oi!

This is most irregular, mistress nutter.

Gather thee right close, good people.

Come close,
until the fire near scorch ye...

For I charge ye that all must see
how the last true witch in england dies.

And let my death
be a message to the world.

Come.

Come. Gather thee close, I say.

And Mark well the fate
of those who meddle

with such as they do not understand.

Oh, bugger.

Voice of god:
Among the folk from the next village,

there was much subsequent debate

as to whether this disaster
had been sent by god or by Satan.

However, a note found in a gnes's cottage

suggested that any divine
or devilish intervention

had been materially helped
by Agnes's petticoats,

in which she had concealed
50 lbs of gunpowder

and 30 lbs of roofing nails.

Oh, bugger.

Agnes also left behind a box and a book.

They were to be given to her daughter
and her son-in-law,

John and I/irtue de vice.

"Dear mistress nutter,

"we take great pleasure in enclosing

"your author's copy of your book.

"We trust it will sell in huge numbers,

"yea, and be reprinted
even unto a second printing.

"Yours, bilton and scaggs, publishers."

The nice and accurate prophecies
of a gnes nutter.

"Reminiscent of nostradamus
at his best.

"Ursula shipton."

What does this mean, John?

It means, virtue,
that even though Agnes is dead,

we must study her book,

for your mother knew the future.

"Prophecy 2,214.

"In December 1980,

"an apple will arise no man can eat.

"Invest thy money
in masterjobbes's machine,

"and good fortune will tend thy days."

Oh, I mean, this is balderdash.

Voice of god:
The book Agnes left behind her

was the sole prophetic work
in all of human history

to consist entirely
of completely correct predictions

concerning the following 350-odd years,

being a precise and accurate description

of the events that would culminate
in armageddon.

[T was on the money
in every single detail.

On the night the antichrist was born,

in a house in Malibu, Agnes nutter's

great-great-great-great-great
granddaughter

was drawing on the title page.

And metaphorically,
the book had just begun to tick.

Ok, anathema. Prophecy 2,214.

"In December 1980,

"an apple will arise that no man can eat."

That one's stupid, mom.
It doesn't mean anything.

My mom bought 5,000 shares
in apple in 1980.

That's worth $40 million today.

Ok, 2,213.

"Four shall ride,
and three shall ride the sky as two,

"and one shall ride in flames,

"and there shall be no stopping them.

"Not fish, nor rain,
neither devil or angel.

"And ye shall be there also, anathema."

You see?

She's got special plans for you, mi amor.

Agnes gave us the easyjob.

We just had to make sure
everything was good for the family.

You're the one that's going
to have to save the world.

Voice of god:
Meanwhile, in dorking, surrey,

thou shalt not c ommitadultery pulsifer's
great-great-great-great-great grandson

should have been in bed hours ago.

Newton?

It's after your bedtime, dear.

Just a few more minutes, mum.

I'm putting the old computer
back together.

You young scientists
and your experiments.

It's not really an experiment, mum.

I just changed the plug.

It'll work now.

I do hope the man from the electric
isn't going to be upset again.

It's not fair.

Oh, don't worry, love.

It's not as if it's the end of the world.

I just wanted to say,
well, good luck on the new job.

I hope it works out this time.

- I'm sure it'll be fine, mum.
- You've just been unlucky.

I made you sandwiches.

Louisa: And you are?

Newton pulsifer. Wages clerk.

I'm new.

Excuse me, I was just wondering,

is there a way that I could do this
without putting it in the computer?

Is there a way of accessing
the wages database...

Without using a computer?

Or maybe someone
could print it out for me,

and then I could do the sums on paper.

Who's excited by the training initiative?

Let's see some hands. Yeah?

Just so that you know, Norman,

I've registered a complaint with hr

about this whole training initiative
nonsense.

It's a team-building exercise, Janice.

And, um, just so as you know,
there's no I in team.

- Yeah?
- But there's two 1's in building, Nigel.

- And an I in exercise.
- Nigel: Yeah. All right.

So, can I have everybody's attention,
please?

Sorry, I've just got to hit return
and I'll be with you.

Staff: Oh!

Sorry.

Just not very good with computers.

Need a hand, dick?

My name's not actually dick.
It's the car's name.

You can ask me why, if you like.

Hello.

Athaneema device?

Anathema device. It's an old family name.

Purpose of your visit
to the United Kingdom?

Well, I'm commanded
by an ancient family prophecy.

I'm going to use all the wisdom
and witchcraft at my disposal

to hunt down the heart of darkness,

and then do all that I can to destroy it

before it brings about
the end of the world.

I'm sorry?

Vacation.

Newton: Hello, mum.

The new job?

Yeah, it's... it's going really well.

They're great.

- They loved me.
- Shadwell: Walk past them

with your noses in the air.

Bye, mum.

There's only one thing
we have to fear, you sissies,

and it's not global warming,
and it's not nuclear armageddon.

Can anyone here tell me what it is?

Ha! You don't answer.

You don't answer
because you know it's true.

They are hidden in our midst.

I'm the thin red line

that stands between humanity
and the darkness.

- Yea, I'm talking about...
- Witches?

Aye, witches.

They lurk behind
a facade of righteousness.

And there's naebody can stop them...

But me.

In the old days,
witchfinders were respected.

Matthew Hopkins, witchfinder general.

He used to charge each town
and village ninepence

for every witch he found.

And they paid.

Are you, um, witchfinder general?

Oh, I am not.

There is no longer a witchfinder general.

Nor is there a witchfinder colonel,

a witchfinder major,
not even a witchfinder captain.

There is, however, a witchfinder sergeant.

And you're looking at him.

Well, pleased to meet you, mr shadwell.

Um, cup of tea. Nine sugars.

And a packet of cheese and onion crisps.

Server: Coming right up, boss.

Get your wallet out, laddie.

Bit of advice -
you never want to appear tight-fisted

on first acquaintance.

- Thank you.
- And it's not mr shadwell,

it's sergeant.
Witchfinder sergeant shadwell.

What's your name, lad?

Newton. Newton pulsifer.

Pulsifer?

That's a familiar name,
now you mention it.

You have your own teeth?

Er, yes.

How many nipples have you got?

- What?
- Nipples, laddie. How many?

Um, just the usual two.

Be here at 11 o'clock tomorrow.

Bring scissors.

Just put it there. Thanks so much.

What a gorgeous village, huh?

Thank you.

Hmm.

Right.

To work.

Easyjob.

Deliver the antichrist.
Keep an eye on him.

Nice, straightforward job, eh?

Not the kind of thing any demon
is going to screw up, right?

Voice of god: The only things in the flat
crowley devotes any personal attention to

are the house plants.

He had heard about talking to plants
in the early 705

and thought it an excellent idea.

Although "talking" is perhaps
the wrong word for what crowley does.

Is that a spot?

Is it?

Right, you know what I've told you all
about leaf spots.

I will not stand for them!

You know what you've done.

You've disappointed me.

Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

Everyone!

Say goodbye to your friend.

He just couldn't cut it.

Now, this is going to hurt you
so much more than it will hurt me.

You guys, grow better!

Voice of god: What he does
is put the fear of god into them.

More precisely, the fear of crowley.

The plants are the most luxurious,
verdant and beautiful in London...

Also, the most terrified.

The nice and accurate prophecies
of a gnes nutter?

I'm so sorry, I can't help you.

Well, of course
I know who she was.

Born 1600, exploded 1656.

But there are no copies
of herbook available.

No, I can't name my price.
I don't have it.

Nobody ha...

Well, there really is no need
for that kind of language.

Um, hello.

I'm here about the advert? In the paper?

Well, madame Tracy draws aside the veil

every afternoon except Thursdays.

I think there must be another advert.

Oh, fight

come in, clear. You're lucky.

One of my regulars had to cancel.

Now, I don't do anything kinky
except by prior arrangement.

And my knees...

Aren't what they were.

Also, if it's strict discipline
you'll be wanting,

you'd better tell me now

cos it can take me half an hour
to squeeze into the leather pinny.

I'm sorry?

Are you not here
for intimate personal relaxation

and stress relief
for the discerning gentleman?

I'm here to join the witchfinder army.

Oh!

Mr shadwell said
he was expecting a visitor.

It's just been him for so long.

Aye?

It's your new recruit, mr shadwell, look.

Away with you, harlot.

Scarlet woman. Jezebel!

Oh, mr shadwell.

I'll bring you both tea.

Milk and sugar, dear?

Shadwell: He's in the army now, jezebel.

He'll make his own tea.

Welcome to the witchfinder army,
new recruit.

You are, as of now,
witchfinder private pulsifer.

We used to be powerful.

We used to be important.

- Oh.
- Condensed milk, lad.

- And I take...
- Nine sugars.

Exactly.

We were the line of fire

between the darkness
and the poor unsuspecting folk

who don't believe in witches.

- Hmm!
- But, sergeant shadwell,

don't the churches do that these days?

Nae, laddie.

Against the darkness?

It's a war.

And you know what our first weapon is?

Oh! The thundergun

of witchfinder colonel
"get 'em before they get you" dalrymple?

Nae, laddie.

That'll ne'er be used again.

Not in this degenerate age.

Very good.

And you know what we do with them?

No, lad.

We read.

And we cut.

Recording:
Hey, this is Anthony crowley.

You know what to do. Do it with style.

Aziraphale: No leads yet my end.

Anything at your end?

Listen, .i' have sort of an idea.

What?

Ah, hello. When you did the baby swap
77 years ago,

- could something have gone wrong?
- What?

- You've lost the boy.
- We've lost him.

A child has been lost.

- But you still know his age...
- We know.

His birthday. He's 11.

You make it sound easy.

Well, it can't be that hard.

I just hope nothing's happened to him.

Happened? Nothing's happened to him.

He happens to everything.

So, we only have to find
his birth records.

Go through the hospital files.

- And then what?
- And then we find the child.

And then what?

Watch out for that pedestrian!

She's on the street.
She knows the risk she's taking.

Just watch the road. Watch the road!

Where is this hospital, anyway?

A village near Oxford - tadfield.

Crowley, you can't do 90mph
in central London.

- Why not?
- You'll get us killed.

Well, inconveniently discorporated.

Music. Why don'tl put on a little...

Music?

What's a velvet underground?

You wouldn't like it.

Oh. Bebop.

Agh!

I still can't believe
your dad let you keep him, Adam.

Actually, when I found a cat,

we had to put up a notice
saying we found a lost cat,

and then we had to give her back.

It's my birthday.
And he wasn't wearing a collar.

And we asked, and nobody's reported
a missing dog.

Our dog doesn't like me.
It pretends I'm not there.

Did you know that my cousin Charlotte
says that, in america,

they have shops that sell
39 different flavours of ice cream?

Voice of god:
Wensleydale's first name is jerem y,

but nobody's ever used it

not even his parents,
who call him youngster.

All that stands between wensleydale

and chartered accountancy

is... time.

There aren't 39 different flavours
of ice cream.

There aren't 39 flavours of ice cream
in the whole world.

Voice of god: Pepper's given first names
were pippin Galadriel moonchild.

She had been given them
in a naming ceremony

in a muddy valley field
that contained several sheep

and a number of leaky polythene tents.

Six months later, sick of the rain,
the men, the sheep -

who ate first their mar/j'uana crop
and then their tents -

pepper's mother returned to tadfield

and enrolled in a sociology course.

There could be if you mix them up.

You know, strawberry and chocolate.

Voice of god: Every gang needs a Brian.

Always grimy, always supportive
of anything a dam in vents or needs.

Brian: Vanilla and chocolate.

Chocolate and vanilla.

Strawberry and vanilla... and chocolate.

Anyway, nobody's going to take dog
away from me.

We're together to the end.
Aren't we, boy?

Anath ema: Eye of newt
and tongue of dog,

north by northwest.

And it's southwest.

You must be here somewhere.

Pepper: There's a witch moved in
to Jasmine cottage.

- Brian: That's stupid.
- Pepper: It's not stupid, stupid.

Mrs Henderson told my mother

that the lady there gets
a witches' newspaper.

Excuse me. My father says
there's no such thing as witches.

It makes sense that witches
would have their own newspaper.

My dad gets the anglers' times,

and I bet there's loads more witches
than anglers.

Shut up. I'm trying to tell you things.

It's called the psychic news.

She's a witch.

Actually, there are no more witches,

because we invented science,

and all the vicars set fire
to the witches for their own good.

It was called the Spanish inquisition.

I don't reckon it's allowed,
going round setting fire to people.

Otherwise people would be doing it
all the time.

It's all right if you're a vicar,

and it stops the witches
from going to hell.

So I expect they'd be quite grateful
if they understood it properly.

We could be
the new Spanish inquisition.

Actually, we can't be
the Spanish inquisition,

because we're not actually Spanish.

I've been to Barcelona.
I can teach you Spanish.

They say "olé" a lot.

We should practise
before we start burning witches.

We should start small
and work our way up.

Leave it to me.

Aziraphale: This is the tadfield area.
Does it look familiar yet?

You know, it does.

I think there's an air base
around here somewhere.

Air base?

Well, you don't think
American diplomats' wives

usually give birth
in little religious hospitals

in the middle of nowhere, do you?

No, it all had to seem
to happen naturally,

so there's an air base at lower tadfield.

Things started to happen,
base hospital isn't ready.

"Oh," our man there says,

"there's a birthing hospital
just down the road."

And there we were.

Rather good organisation.

Flawless.

It should have worked.

Ah, but evil always contains
the seeds of its own destruction.

No matter how well-planned,
how foolproof an evil plan,

no matter how apparently successful
it may seem upon the way,

in the end, it will founder
on the rocks of iniquity and vanish.

For my money,
it was just an ordinary cock-up.

Hey, guys.

Nice hat.

Actually, we made it out of cardboard.

It's for our game.

Stylish.

What are you guys playing?

Wensleydale: The British inquisition.

Come on, wensleydale!

Sounds like fun.
How does the game work?

I am chief inquisitor,
Brian is head torturer,

and we're trying to find a witch.

Oh. Sounds very sensible.

- How do you do that?
- Adam: Watch.

Art thou a witch?

Olé!

Yes?

You can't say yes.

- You've got to say no.
- Then what?

Then we torture you until you say yes.

Wait, you're going to torture him?

We built a torturing machine.

It looks like a swing.

But obviously, in this situation,
I actually am a witch.

I have a big pointy hat,
and we have a cat at home, and...

And I borrowed mum's broom.

Pepper: Look, no-one's saying
you can't be a witch,

but you just have to say

you're nota witch.
There's no point taking all this trouble

if you're going to go around saying yes

the minute we ask you. Just say no!

- Wensleydale: But...
- Art thou a witch, oh, evil crone?

Excuse me, Adam,
why must I do all the work?

I'm being tortured here.
Actually, this is very painful.

I'm thinking of admitting
to being a witch.

I'm going to go home
if I can't have a go.

Don't see why evil witches
should have all the fun.

Wensleydale:
You have to keep pushing!

- Hey, kid.
- Adam: Yo?

- Can I ask you something?
- Yeah.

Are there any great beasts
or strange things happening?

Well, there's dog. I mean, he's a beast.

Come on, dog, say hello.

Not what I was looking for.

Adam: Hold on.
I have to tell them what to do.

All right, evil witch wensleydale,
don't do it again.

And now you get off the torturing swing
and let someone else have a turn.

Right, well, you kids are hilarious,
but I'm going to keep looking, so, bye.

Aziraphale: Um, are you sure
this is the right place?

This... this doesn't look like a hospital.

And...

Well...

It feels loved.

No, it's definitely the place.

What do you mean loved?

Well, I mean the opposite
of when you say,

"I don't like this place.
It feels spooky."

I don't ever say that. I like spooky.

Big spooky fan, me.
Let's go talk to some nuns.

Ah! Oh!

Blue?

- Oh, it's paint.
- Tompkins: Hey!

You've both been hit!

I don't know what you think
you're playing at, right...

Ah!

- Well, that was fun.
- Well, yes, fun for you.

Look at the state of this coat.

I've kept this in tip-top condition
for over 180 years now.

I'll never get this stain out.

You could miracle it away.

Hmm... yes, but...

Well, I would always know
the stain was there.

Underneath, I mean.

Oh!

Thank you.

Impressive hardware.

I've looked at this gun.

It's not a proper one at all.

It just shoots paintballs.

Don't your lot disapprove of guns?

Unless they're in the right hands.

Then they give weight
to a moral argument...

I think.

A moral argument?

Really?

Come on.

This is definitely the place.

Voice of god:
Management training no longer meant

watching half a dozen
unreliable powerpoint presentations.

Firms these days expected more than that.

They wanted to establish
leadership potential,

group cooperation and initiative,

which allowed their employees
to fire paintballs

at any colleagues who irritated them.

Wonder where the nuns went.

The brochure for tadfield manor
crowley is inspecting

fails to contain
any sentences along the lines of

"until 77 years ago,
the manor was used as a hospital

"b y an order of satanic nuns
who weren't actually very good at it."

Oh, Millie from accounts
caught me on the elbow.

- Who's winning?
- You're all going to lose.

What... what the hell did you just do?

Well, they wanted real guns,
so I gave them what they wanted.

I always said you couldn't trust
those people from purchasing.

The bastards!

There are people out there
shooting at each other.

Well, it lends weight
to their moral argument.

Everyone has free will,

including the right to murder.

Just think of it
as a microcosm of the universe.

I wanted to be a graphics designer,

design lps for the rolling stones,

but the careers teacher
said he hadn't heard of them.

So I spent 36 years
double-checking form bf-18.

They couldn't just say, "oh, Norman,
we're giving you early retirement.

"Have a watch, bugger off
and tend to your marigolds."

Well, if they want war,

we're going to give them war.

Ok, guys, let's get the bastards.

They're murdering each other?

No, they aren't. No-one's killing anyone.

They're all having miraculous escapes.

It wouldn't be any fun otherwise.

You know, crowley,

I've always said that deep down,

you really are quite a nice...

Shut it!

I'm a demon. I'm not nice.

I'm never nice.
Nice is a four-letter word.

- I will not have...
- Mary: Excuse me, gentlemen.

Sorry to break up an intimate moment.
Can I help you?

You.

Saints and demons preserve us,
it's master crowley!

You didn't have to do that.

You could have just asked her.

Of course, of course. No. Yeah.

"Excuse me, ma'am,
we're two supernatural entities

"just looking
for the notorious son of Satan.

"Wonder if you might help us
with our enquiries?"

Um... Look...

Hello.

You weren't by any chance
a nun here, at this convent,

11 years ago, were you?

I was.

Luck of the devil.

What happened to the baby I gave you?

I swapped him with the son
of the American ambassador.

Such a nice man.

He used to be ambassador to swindon.

Then sister Theresa garrulous came
and took the other baby away.

This American ambassador -
what was his name,

where did he come from
and what did he do with the baby?

- I don't know.
- Aziraphale: Records.

- There must have been records.
- Yes.

There were lots of records.

We were very good at keeping records.

Well, where are they?

Burned in the fire.

Hastur!

Well, is there anything you remember
about the baby?

He had lovely little toesie-woesies.

Let's go.

You will wake having had a lovely dream
about whatever you like best.

Crowley: Oi.

You'd think he'd show up, wouldn't you?

You'd think we could detect him
in some way.

He won't show up. Not to us.
Protective camouflage.

He won't even know it,
but his powers will keep him hidden

from prying occult forces.

Occult forces?

You and me.

- I'm not occult.
- Oh...

Angels aren't occult. We're ethereal.

Is there some other way of locating him?

How the heaven should I know?

Armageddon only happens once, you know.

You don't get to go round again
until you get it right.

I know one thing - if we don't find him,

it won't be the war to end all wars.

It'll be the war to end everything.

Voice of god:
Most books on witchcraft

will tell you that witches work naked.

This is because most books on witchcraft
are written by men.

"Darksome night and shining moon..."

Come on.

Aziraphale:
There's a very peculiar feeling

to this whole area.

I'm astonished you can't feel it.

I don't feel anything out of the ordinary.

But it's everywhere. All over here.

Love.

Flashes of love.

You're being ridiculous.

Last thing we need right now is...

You hit someone.

I didn't.

Someone hit me.

Let there be light.

How the hell did you do that?

I think I hit my head.

Aziraphale: That's it. No bones broken.

My bike.

Amazingly resilient, these old machines.

Where do you need to get to?

No, no, we're not giving her a lift.

Out of the question.
There's nowhere to put the bike.

Except for the bike rack.

Do get in, my dear.

So, where are we taking you?

Back to the village.
I'll give you directions.

♪ Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle

♪ .i' want to ride my
bicycle, bicycle, bicycle... ♪

Listen, my bike, it didn't have gears.

I know my bike didn't have gears.

Make a left.

Oh, lord, heal this bike.

I got carried away.

Oh, you can drop me off here.

Oh, look, no gears.

Just a perfectly normal velocipede.

Bicycle.

Can we get on?

Get in, angel.

♪ .I' want to ride my

♪ bicycle

♪ bicycle, bicycle... ♪

Anathema's mother:
Hola, mi amor. How is it going?

Lousy.

- Any progress in finding the...?
- The young beast and the lesser beast?

It must be at the north end
of the village.

I'm certain of it. I just...

Can't figure out... where.

- Have you used your pendulum?
- Mom, I'm not a kid.

If I get too close, the signal swamps me.

Further away, I can't get an accurate fix.

Mi amor, the answers
are always in the book.

It's just sometimes
you don't see them till afterwards.

The book.

Holy shit, mom.
I'm going to have to call you back.

You know, we might get another human
to find him.

- What?
- Humans are good at finding other humans.

They've been doing it
for thousands of years.

And the child is partly human.

Other humans might be able to sense him.

He's the antichrist.

He's got an automatic defence thingy.

Suspicion slides off him like...

Whatever it is water slides off.

Got any better ideas?

Or one single better idea?

Deirdre: I still don't know
why you let him keep that dog.

It was his birthday and...

Oh, I don't know,

the way that he was looking at the dog,
and the dog was looking at him.

As if they were made for each other.

Arthur...

You are a softie sometimes.

I resent that remark.

- Where's the dog now?
- Tied up outside.

Adam asked if he could have him
in his room, but I said absolutely not.

"Absolutely not," I said.

Come on, dog.

What was that about?

Oh, just checking on Adam.

He's quite sweet, you know...

When he's asleep.

When he's asleep, yeah.

Look, there's something I should tell you.

I have a...

Network...

Of highly-trained human agents

spread across the country.

Now, I could set them
searching for the boy.

You do? I actually...
I actually have something similar.

Human operatives.

Gosh, do you think
they ought to work together?

I don't think that's a very good idea.

My lot are not very sophisticated,

politically speaking.

No, no, neither are mine.

So we tell our respective operatives
to look for the boy.

Unless you have a better idea?

Ducks!

- What about ducks?
- They're what water slides off.

Just drive the car, please.

You know, if you lined up
everyone in the whole world

and asked them to describe
the velvet underground,

nobody at all would say bebop.

Oh, there's a book back there.

Well, it's not mine. I don't read books.

It has to belong to the young lady
you hit with your car.

I'm in enough trouble as it is.

I'm not going to start returning
lost property.

That's what your lot do.

Why don't you just send it
to the tadfield post office,

addressed to "the mad American woman
with the bicycle"?

Oh, er...

Jolly good, yes. Rather.

Right, so we'll both contact
our respective human operatives, then?

All right.

- You all right?
- Perfectly, yes.

Er, tip-top.

- Absolutely tickety-boo.
- Tickety-boo?

Mind how you go.

Right.

Well, that was a thing.

Voice of god:
Aziraphale was particularly proud

of his books of prophecy.

First editions, usually.

And every one was signed.

He had Martha the gypsy
and .i'gnatius s ybilla

and 0ttwell binns.

Nostradamus had signed,

"to myne olde friend azerafel,
with beste wishes."

Mother shipton had spilled drink
on his copy of her book.

He even owned an original scroll

in the handwriting
of st John the divine of patmos,

whose revelation
had been the all-time best seller.

But there was one book he didn't have.

One book he had only heard of

aziraphale: The nice and accurate
prophecies of a gnes nutter.

"3,008.

"When that the angel readeth
these words of mine,

"in his shop of other men's books,

"then the final days are certes upon us.

"Open thine eyes to understand.

"Open thine eyes and read, I do say,

"foolish principalitee,

"for thy cocoa doth grow... cold."

"Thy cocoa doth grow cold"?

What cocoa...? Ohh!

Any news?

Found the missing antichrist yet?

No! No news. Nothing. Nothing at all.

If I had anything,
I would tell you, obviously.

Immediately. We're friends.
Why would you even ask?

Oh, there's no news here either.

Call me if you find anything.

Absolutely.
Why would you think I wouldn't?

Hang on.

"Let him that hath understanding
count the number of the beast,

"for it is the number of a man.

"And his number is
six hundred threescore and six."

It can't be that simple, can it?

I'd have to put
the tadfield area code first, of course.

Tadfield, 0-4-6-triple 6.
Arthur young here.

Dad, look, I got dog to walk
on his hind legs!

Sorry, right number!