All language subtitles for Hamish Macbeth s01e02.A Pillar of the Community.eng

Pow!

(Makes ricochet noise)

OK, Jock.

Pow, pow, pow, pow!

It's great what you see
when you don't have a gun.

Ah, I didn't realise I had an audience.

Your secret's safe with me.

- Do you want a lift?
- Mm.

(Lesson in Gaelic)

(Children speaking Gaelic)

(Speaking Gaelic)

Aw, Esme,
educated in their native tongue.

Marvellous. And do you like speaking
in the Gaelic, hm?

- It's like poetry, isn't it?
- Yes, well, start them young.

I've had the poster printed up
for Lochdubh Day.

- It's normally word of mouth.
- You can't plan too carefully.

There's a lot to be done.
I've spoken to Isobel about the choir.

- That's settled.
- It's usually just the band.

Oh, gosh, I must phone Evadne McTurk
and confirm. See you on Thursday. Bye.

(Hamish) So you're a writer, are you?

Of sorts.

- What sort?
- Nothing you'll have heard of.

- You never know.
- I write under a pen name.

And what would that be?

- No, really!
- No, come on, I'm interested.

- Sadler.
- Aye?

Chuck Sadler.

Chuck Sadler?

- The Chuck Sadler?
- Well, yes, I suppose so. Yes.

Bleached Skulls In The Sunset.

Dead Man's Gulch.

That bit where Luke Kincaid shoots Jed
McGlone through the buffalo skeleton!

- You're a gifted writer, Paul.
- You've read it. I'm amazed.

Read it? I've read them all, me!

Chuck Sadler!

Chuck Sadler? (Laughs delightedly)

Here you are, Rowan, I've brought
a friend for you. Come in, Hamish.

- I'll fetch the new book.
- (Hamish) Come on.

- You've fairly been doing the place up.
- Don't mention it.

Here we are. The Cowhand's Revenge.
Fresh from the press.

- Would you like me to sign it for you?
- Aye!

"To Hamish...

"...from Chuck Sadler."

"Oh, wad the power the gift to gie us..."

In the name of God,
who's been quoting Burns at you?

(Vicky) Hello?

- PC Macbeth.
- Hamish, please.

- You'll be coming on Thursday.
- I'm no' a committee man.

Lochdubh Day's being expanded.
The road'll need to be blocked off.

- Normally park a bale out in the street.
- Eight sharp. Here's a draft agenda.

- What you got there?
- It's a dead crow.

- A what?
- Must've kicked it out in the garden.

Well, take it out of here, for God's sake.

I must change. Paul, would you give...

- Hamish.
...Hamish a cup of tea?

And wash your hands.

(Phone)

(Ringing continues)

(Ringing stops)

Ah, some people have got no patience,
eh, Jock?

(Dogs barking)

Mr McCrae!

- Mr McCrae!
- (Dogs barking, sheep bleating)

(Bang)

Mr McCrae?

Conas at� t�, Mr McCrae?

Aye.

Aw, what a marvellous shed.

- It was lovely earlier this morning.
- Aye. We're paying for it now, eh?

- Could I have a word?
- Aye, talk away.

I hear that you've got an old handloom
in your shed.

- Oh, aye?
- We've decided to dress up the hall

as an authentic weaving cottage.

- Have we?
- Somebody mentioned the loom.

- I thought maybe...
- I'm a bit busy now.

It's in the back somewhere.
I'm a bit busy at the moment...

Aww, please,
it wouldn't take long, surely.

(Starts engine)

(Screams melodramatically)
No! Isn't this a blackhouse?

- This is a pile of stones.
- You can't destroy this!

- It must be one of the last left standing.
- Don't you instruct me on blackhouses.

My granny was born in one
and dank, smelly holes they are, too!

Why? Why?!

I'm putting in a new septic tank, all right?

To hell with a pile of stones!
What about my tyre?

It's a piece of rubber!

You can't compare it with
the heritage your forefathers left you!

Hamish, I want this lifted
for criminal damages to my tractor.

Hamish, kindly contact
the Planning Department in Inverness.

This man is guilty of destroying
a listed building!

Do you know how much
a new tyre costs? A fortune!

- Dad, it'll just be a tenner...
- Shut up!

- Will you phone or shall I?
- Why don't we all calm down?

- I'm perfectly calm.
- I'm bloody well not!

- No wonder! The destruction of a black...
- Don't you talk to me about destruction!

- You mentioned a listed building.
- It's not listed.

- Yet.
- And there's been �10 damage to a tyre?

- Well, maybe 20.
- Look, Lachie, it is not the money.

- It is the principle of the thing.
- Exactly!

Cup o' tea.

Get off!

(Dog barks)

(Paul) Shut up, Rowan.
(Vicky) Is that Hamish?

We'll see, dear.

Yes, it is. Come in, Hamish.

- Hi, there. For you, Paul.
- Oh, thank you.

I say, thanks so much
for smoothing over the tractor incident.

Och, it was nothing.
No more dead crows?

- No, no, no.
- Ah, well, then.

- Enjoying the book?
- I haven't had a minute.

- I was joking.
- So am I. It was great, it's the best yet.

Thank you. Come on in.

We took �48 at the gate.
The tombola still did...

The police are here to check the books!

Lovely to see you, Hamish.
Now, you sit down here.

Isobel. Better pop that in the fridge.
Wee Jock was lying on it.

- What do you drink? I've heather beer.
- Heather beer.

Lovely, yeah.

(Tapping on glass)

I was just pointing out that,
in the last fiscal year,

Lochdubh Day
returned a deficit of �25.33.

I view this matter with no small degree
of concern. If a rollover budget is to be...

For goodness' sake,
the money's irrelevant.

I've been on to Highland Region.
They'll give us a loss guarantee of 2,500.

Oh, I see. But even so, a loss guarantee
is not the same as project funding.

What's a few pounds matter
when your culture's at stake?

Is it not just a piss-up at the pub?

(Chuckles) Oh, Rory.

I know you won't mind me saying this
but that is just the sort of attitude

that's left the Highlands
in the state they are today.

Barney and me are happy
to open the doors of the hotel

and we've ordered a bouncy castle,
as usual.

- Well...
- Actually, I cancelled the... bouncy castle.

- Since when?
- Vicky here thought that...

With respect, Agnes, a bouncy castle
isn't quite the tone we're looking for.

I've contacted the Sealed Knot Society.

They'll recreate
the Battle of the Devil's Hump.

There'll be a Gaelic cookery competition.
The choir will sing.

Then there's the travelling Tartan
Roadshow. The tourists will love it.

- For the ceilidh at night...
- Esme handles the ceilidh.

We'll be getting Wullie Muirhead's band
from Cnothan. Won't we?

Well, Vicky's been suggesting
some new ideas, but...

- (Oven timer pings)
- Barney...

- What?
- Would you be an angel?

- Aye, right. Excuse me.
- (Plates clattering)

(Mr Dick) How much will all this cost?

I'd already paid the deposit
on the bouncy castle.

- I'm afraid you'll have to ask Vicky.
- (Vicky and Barney laugh)

- Clapshot.
- Sorry?

Clapshot. Boiled cabbage and potatoes
garnished with salt and oatmeal.

And this is Cloutie Dumpling.

(Alarm clock rings, Wee Jock barks)

What?

Ohhh!

Heather beer.

(Phone)

Hello?

Bruce?

DI Bruce, good morning, sir.

- No, it was nonstop here yesterday, sir.
- (Fax bleeps)

A fax? No, I don't think so.

Threats? To the settlers?

Extreme nationalists?
No, I don't think so, sir.

- (Scrunches up fax)
- Quiet as the grave here, sir.

(Vicky squeals and laughs)

And you... snip that... there.

Get rid o' that...

and a wee drop of varnish...

over there...

...like that.

And there you are.

That's marvellous.

It's nothing like a fly.

It's no' meant to be a fly.
This one's a wee shrimp.

But it's more...

the memory of a wee shrimp.

I mean,
if it actually looked like a shrimp...

- Then you wouldn't catch anything.
- Correct.

Bit bright for the sea trout, though.
Night's best.

- What, you mean you fish in the dark?
- Aye.

Orange shrimp fly and an 8 or a 10
on a moonlit night.

It's perfect.

Hamish!

There's a right rammy goin' on down at
the pier. Weapons are being brandished.

- Gie us a break, there's a rise on here.
- Agnes is threatening to murder Barney.

- What are they arguing about?
- It's a private matter.

- Over to you, Paul.
- Oh, right, OK.

Give it a whirl, eh?

So what's the big secret?

Agnes thinks Barney's having an affair
with his wife.

Vicky?

And Barney?

Two and a half hours
you were out wi' her!

- She wanted to look at my creels.
- Aye, and more!

She's going to decorate the hall
with them!

Do you think my head zips up the back?
Don't you walk away from me!

Morning, Agnes.

Morning, Hamish.

Any chance of cup o' that lovely coffee
of yours?

For you, Hamish, anything.

I'll see you later.

Seen enough?
(Shouts threateningly in Italian)

Barney, please...

I don't want any knife fights
in Lochdubh.

Neither dae I. Gonnae gie us a hand
with these up to the hall?

- You mean Vicky really does want them?
- Aye, for the ceilidh.

She's going to construct
a fishing theme installation.

Oh, right.

(Sing traditional Gaelic song)

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Listen, ladies, you're really going
to have to concentrate, OK?

- Can I have that once more, please?
- They never really wove tweed locally.

- Yes, it was out in the islands mostly.
- That's right.

- Ladies.
- (All) Hamish.

Oh, well... Ah, will you just stack them
over there in that corner, gentlemen?

- Funny smell in here.
- I thought I smelt something.

- Mebbe the creels.
- No.

- It's probably the fixing agent.
- Sorry?

I thought we'd use
a traditional fixing agent for the tweed.

- Traditional fixing agent?
- Was that not...

- That's right, men's urine.
- (All) Ughh!

Oh!

What's wrong?

Hamish?

- Chuck.
- Good morning. Look at this.

Uh-huh.

- (Sighs) This is beyond a joke.
- Yes.

Hamish, could you... somehow
let her know how the village feels?

A vendetta? Against me?

For goodness' sake,
after all I've done for the community.

- Petty jealousies, that's all.
- Vicky, these people can be dangerous.

They've threatened
to burn people out in other places.

Darling, the crow is the symbol of death.

Well, they're not scaring me
or burning me out!

You can't give in to these people.

Now, I didn't intend
to take this any further, Hamish,

but if you must personalise it, I'm sure
your superiors will be very interested.

No, I don't think
there's any need to involve them.

- If it's a local matter, I'll sort it out.
- You'd better do it soon, hadn't you?

Hm.

Hey, where's your dad?

- Under a tractor last time I saw him.
- I want a word wi' him about a letter.

- What letter?
- Just tell him.

(Starts up engine)

Hey! This thing MOT'd?

- What?
- MOT'd.

- No. Why?
- Ju...

Just asking.

Isobel. Sorry. Isobel, can I have a word?

Hang on, I'll pop this off to the printer's
in Oban. They print it up by half-three.

New technology, Flora, eh?
Cannae be doin' wi' it.

Asked for a police horse,
they sent me a Land Rover!

(Printer whirrs)

- Have a look at this.
- Let's see.

- Very nice.
- Any idea where it came from?

It's been cut up from an old copy
of the Listener.

- Is that it?
- That's about all I can say.

- 2,000 copies a week.
- 2,000-1, that's good.

What about prints and forensics?
Send it off to Inverness.

No, I'd rather sort this oot on ma own.

- You OK?
- Mm.

Listen, Isobel,

keep this to yourself, eh?

Oh, by the way, I was wondering, er...
are you going to the ceilidh?

Well, I was supposed to be in it. Why?

Could you look after Wee Jock
cos I'm goin' fishing?

- Course, Hamish. No trouble.
- You're a doll.

(Lachie clatters bin)

Aye, well, it's not a letter
I'd be sending her.

- Pow!
- I'll ignore that.

I haven't the foggiest idea about that,
Hamish.

- You've been shooting crows, I see.
- Oh, goodness gracious me, eh?

My freedom to shoot vermin
is to be curtailed, is it?

Aye, the ugly face of fascism, boy.

You're calling me a fascist?

- If the cap fits.
- I'll tell you this, Lachlan, this is bad.

This is very, very bad.

When I find oot who did it,
they're in big... big trouble.

Well, don't look at me, Hamish,
I can't even spell.

Very good.

- Hamish.
- Yes?

- Half the village wants rid o' her, boy.
- Aye, and so does the other half.

So it's crows nailed to doors
and threatening letters now, eh?

- How do you know about that?
- Isobel told me.

I'm just after telling Isobel!

She knew already.

Rory told her and the postman told him

and Esme told Agnes about the crow

on account of her niece Kirsty
hearing Vicky tell Cameron at the bar.

Ohh, see this place, it's unbelievable!

I know, I know.

You can't clean your ferret's cage out
here without it being on CNN.

You should know that.

If you want my advice,

let it all blow over.

Aye, mebbe you're right.

As long as you can keep
Inspector Bruce off your case.

Bruce? What do you know about Bruce?

Oh, he's been screaming for you all day
on the radio.

I told him you were out
chasing poachers.

- Did he believe you?
- The man's a balloon. Of course he did.

Specially when I told him you might have
a confiscated sea trout for him.

The woman has poisoned
the community.

- Here, have another wee dram, Lachlan.
- Aye, cheers.

She's taken over the ceilidh
lock, stock and barrel.

- Esme's fizzing.
- Oh, and her such a moist thing, too!

Terrible when the powers of darkness
invade a man's private business.

- She phoned the Planning.
- The Planning?

She never mentioned my caravan,
did she?

Aye, and her here not five minutes
from Kelvinside.

- Morningside.
- Eh?

She comes from Morningside,
not Kelvinside.

Morningside, Kelvinside, backside -
they're all the bloody same!

Incomers telling us how to live our lives.

And buying up all the good houses

so locals like TV John have to live in
caravans without planning permission.

Hey, wait a minute, I'm an incomer.

Aye, Barney,
but I mean, there's incomers...

and there's incomers.

- Agnes...
- Have you seen Barney?

- No.
- (Door opens)

Quiet the night, eh?

Look, I just popped in for a chat.
There's been a wee bit of trouble.

More than a wee bit, I'd say.

There's nae easy way of asking this,
but there's been threats made to Vicky.

- So you think it was me that sent...
- No, no, no, no, I just... I'm just...

- I'm just here.
- Hamish...

Barney and me, we've been here -
what - five years now?

We're accepted. We go with the flow.

- I had my man...
- (Continues chopping lemon)

...friends.

Now look at it, eh?

Och, it makes my blood boil

to see her march in and act as if she was
what, the Queen of Sheba!

B-But Barney loves you, Agnes.

So... you think I'm after her.

Well, you're right... but prove it.

(Lachlan sings drunkenly)

(Gunshots and whooping on TV)

(Lachlan sings drunkenly)

(Engine failing to start)

God.

- (Drunken singing)
- Dad, Dad!

Stop! Control yourself!

Stop, Dad, no!

Dad, Dad, you have to stop!

I took the wheel off to fix it.

Oh, gaaaah!

- (Dog barks)
- Rowan, Rowan!

Come on. Good boy. Here.

(Whistles)

(? Traditional Gaelic song on radio)

(Vehicle approaches)

Hamish! Stop!

Hamish, I've three rolls of film
and we've run out of developer.

- (? Traditional Gaelic song)
- (Metallic clunking)

(? Country & Western on stereo)

(? Traditional Gaelic music)

(Car horn blaring)

(? Traditional Gaelic song)

(? Country & Western)

(Music winds down)

(Dog whimpers)

Rowan!

Rowan!

Rowan! Rowan's gone off.
You haven't seen Rowan, have you?

Rowan!

(Lachlan snarls)

- Can I take a shot of this?
- What?!

Lachlan, Lachlan!

- Lachlan!
- (Camera clicking)

You use that photo and I'll sue you!

- Come on, Lachlan, move!
- (Dog barking)

It's her that should be charged,
Hamish, the Marina's a write-off.

Lachlan... you know, you just can't
go around strangling folk like that.

- How'd you like me to strangle her?
- Don't start.

You're bloody lucky
she's no' pressed charges.

- She made him do it.
- That's right.

Who unscrewed the wheel?
That's who you should be looking for.

And, er... how do you know
it was unscrewed?

- Eh?
- Well...

I-I just...

I just... you know.

- (Sighs)
- I just...

just... thought...

Lachie, are you a complete plonker?
When I get my hands on you, boy...

- I thought you'd be pleased...
- Right, that's it.

You're being nicked, the pair of ye.
You for assault.

You for writing threatening notes
and for... nailing crows to doors!

- (Phone)
- OK?

(Ringing continues)

Hello?

Detective Inspector Bruce,
how are you, sir?

Settler Watch?

Yes, well, we did have a small incident,
but it's under control now.

A sea trout?

Well, I may just have one for you, sir.

Not at all. Don't you mention it.
Bye, now.

Hamish, um... Come on, come on.

Er, Hamish... Iook, I did loosen
her wheel nuts... a wee bit,

but I don't know anything about
dead crows or notes or...

The boy's telling the truth, Hamish.
You couldn't spell crow, could you?

Beat it.

(? Bagpipes)

Abenheimer, Aben...
Och, what's wrong wi' my head?

I've just remembered,
Abenheimer is a sept of the Stewart Clan.

Just wait there, I'll sort you out.
Sling us some shortbread red, Calum.

There's a lad. Och, there you are.

This is your Royal Stewart dress tartan,
a very, very special reserve

and for you, we're talking...

Come on, lads,
away with us to the Devil's Hump!

(Raucous cheering)

(Yells)

- Recovered frae yesterday, I see.
- Oh, let them come! I'll take them all on!

She says it's Lochdubh Day or die.

Hamish, you think you know a lot about
girls, but you don't understand women.

Oh, really?

She could no more admit
she was at fault than fly in the air.

- Hello.
- Is there not a bouncy castle this year?

No, Harry. No' the right tone, son.

- Will I take Wee Jock now?
- Nah, fishing trip's cancelled.

(Wild yelling)

(? Bagpipes)

Oh, hello.

Not coming in, Hamish?
Could be quite a good show.

I'm up to my neck in it, John.
Need to sort out this note thing.

- Everybody from the village is here.
- Nah, I'm fine.

Dunno why she's got the chairs oot.
It's a ceilidh, not a bloody recitation.

Ladies and gentlemen,
welcome to this year's Beltane Ceilidh.

I've been doing a bit of research

and with the help of Isobel Sutherland...

I have discovered

that, according to
the Lochdubh Listener...

According to
the Lochdubh Listener of, um...

May 1892...

- I've just been thinking, Lachie.
- Uh-huh?

Maybe you could rebuild
that blackhouse,

charge the tourists a fiver to sit inside it.

- Do you reckon I'll get a fiver, do you?
- Oh, maybe even six.

It's baffling, Jock.

Pure baffling.

So to open our musical evening,

let us welcome Evadne McTurk
of the Cnothan Amateur Operatics.

(Applause)

Evadne will sing us a Scottish medley.

(Piano introduction)

? Ca' the yowes tae the knowes

? Ca' them where the heather growes

? Ca' them where the burnie rowes

? My bonnie dearie... ?

(Whispers) Hold me back, Agnes!

Did you hear the Planning boy
was here today?

? Then a fauldin' let us gang

? My bonnie dearie... ?

"Oh, wad the power the gift tae gie us
To see ourselves as others see us."

Gift.

The gift.

?... tae the knowes
Ca' them where the heather growes

? Ca' them where the burnie rowes

? My bonnie dearie ?

Paul?

? My bonnie dearie ?

- ? Ae fond kiss...
- Oh, bloody hell!

?... and then we sever

? Ae fareweel... ?

?... never met

? Nor never... ?

- It's Wullie Muirhead! At last!
- Aye, you need to give me more notice.

Clear a space on that stage, give me...

But Evadne hasn't finished
and then there's... Ohh! Oh, no!

- Time and place!
- No, but they're walking!

(Cheering)

(Softly) Waaah!

End of the trail, pardner.

(Gun clicks)

So what was it, Paul?

Another woman?

- Boredom?
- No, no, no, no.

I just wanted to get her to...
stop organising.

I don't want to move again. Everywhere
we go, she tries to run everything, then...

Then she gets impatient when the locals
won't follow her, and then we leave.

So why didn't you say something?
Why didn't you talk to her?

Talk?

Talked for years.

I thought the letters might frighten her,
make her... make her come to me.

What'll happen?

That'll depend on your wife.

1959, that's when it came to me.

I wrote a short story about
a half-Pawnee, half-Scotsman.

Luke Kincaid.

I've never been there, you know.

The West.
Never been any further west than Bristol.

Can't face the ceilidh, Hamish.

Well, Luke Kincaid would go.

- Would he?
- Absolutely.

(? Lively traditional Scottish music)

Getting lively in there, Kincaid.

(Conversation drowned out by music)

(Music ends)

...I'm sick of watching you
make a total fool of yourself

organising other people's lives
for them...

...because I was too scared to tell you.

Tell her now!

And because
I still love you enough to care.

- You didn't say.
- You didn't ask.

Come on, we need an extra couple
for the Eightsome Reel. Wullie!

Take it away there, Paul.

(? Lively traditional music)

(Conversation drowned out by music)

Come on, Jock.

Let's go and catch a trout
and bribe that stupid inspector.

Oh, man,

disnae get much better than this.

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