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The earliest documented instance

of an animal speaking like a human

was in the 5th century BC,

by the Greek physician Ctesias, who wrote,

"In my travels to India,

I encountered a parrot about as large as a hawk,

with a human tongue and voice, a dark red beak, a black beard,

and blue feathers up to a neck, which is red like cinnabar.

It speaks Indian like a native

and if taught Greek, speaks Greek."

In 1962, a budgerigar named Sparkie Williams

held the world record for the largest vocabulary

of a talking bird.

Stupid bastard.

At the time of his death,

he knew 531 words.

Stupid bastard. Silly bugger. Stupid bastard.

Like I told you,

he is a very, very, very good boy.

That's not important right now.

In 1995, a budgerigar named Park

was credited by Guinness's Book of World Records

as having the largest vocabulary of any bird.

Never shake a baby bird, that would surely be absurd.

Konnichiwa!

While the budgerigar

can be taught the most words,

it is believed by many that the hill myna

sounds most similar to a human when it speaks.

Hello, how are you?

Hello, how are you?

Crows are considered

some of the most intelligent animals on Earth.

Come on.

And they can learn, in some cases,

to mimic human speech and laughter.

What a good boy.

And while most often

when one thinks of an animal

speaking like a human...

...one thinks of a bird.

Some other animals can produce sounds

that are remarkably like the ones we make.

These are very isolated occurrences, however.

The result of coincidence

rather than anything supernatural.

You are considered to be the world's foremost expert

in parapsychology.

A field of research I will admit

I was unfamiliar with until quite recently.

Well, most are.

Hm.

There is something I have been dying to ask,

no pun intended,

since we arranged this interview.

I hope my, uh, nomenclature is not too crude.

Well, what is it?

Well, do you believe in ghosts?

Well, the answer to that question

is actually quite complicated.

How so?

Do you believe that ghosts are real?

Well, now that is an entirely different question

with an even more complicated answer.

I'm afraid I'm a bit lost.

Aren't we all?

Allow me to respond to your inquiry

with a question for you.

And that is, how do you define that term, "real"?

Well, it is, I suppose, what I can see, what I can feel.

Hear, smell. What is obviously around me.

Precisely. What you can see,

what you can feel,

what is around you.

- Right. - Now, allow me

to elucidate further with a short exercise.

- All right. - Suppose when I look

into the corner of the room,

I see a man standing there looking back at me.

But there's no one there.

So you say.

But what if I could see someone?

Can you?

For the purpose of this demonstration,

yes, I see, as I said, a man.

He is old with a heavy beard.

Blue eyes.

He is making faces at me now.

He is waggling his tongue.

Right, but, uh, but there is no one there.

Do you see anyone there?

What? So you cannot see him, neither can he.

And yet I can.

So is he real or not?

Well, no.

But I say he is.

But he is not.

But I...

say he is.

That you two cannot see anyone is irrelevant

as far as I am concerned.

You could bring a thousand people in here

and ask them all if they see someone

and they could all say no, and yet I can.

So to me, he is real.

I think I understand now.

Good. However...

Oh, God, what now?

My field of research with regard to this scenario

I have concocted has little to do with the fact

that you two cannot see anyone in the corner.

In fact, it does not really matter that I can.

What I am concerned with...

What I am obsessed with understanding is,

why I can see that man?

Do you understand?

Not at all.

Anne, hello.

How was it?

A drink, please.

I see.

Would you prefer the Burns or the Calvert?

The Calvert to start.

Now after the day you've had,

probably in no mood to have me read your letters to you.

Well... you might as well.

Otherwise, they'll just...

continue to accumulate.

Yes.

Right.

"Dear Dr. Fodor,

I do hope this letter finds you well.

My name is--"

S-Sorry, Anne.

If you could skip the pleasantries,

I'm not in the mood.

Certainly. Yeah.

"I live in the town of Dundee, Scotland

with my son Oliver.

When we moved into the cottage on--"

All right.

Here is what we will do.

You will read the letter to yourself,

then you will take a moment.

And then you will summarize it for me.

Ye... yes, sir.

How short would you prefer this summary to be?

Four sentences or less.

- How does that sound? - Four. Yes.

Oh.

Right, I think I've got it.

Oh, does that count as one of my four sentences?

- No. - Excellent.

A young Scottish boy. He sees his dead grandmother.

Mother doesn't believe.

Mother finds dead grandmother's necklace on her pillow...

One, two, three.

...and the boy suffers at school

because of his visions.

Next.

Right.

Library in Calcutta.

Ghost of the former caretaker said to haunt the history wing.

Books strewn around.

Photograph of phantasm enclosed.

See? It's there.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Next.

Oh, golly. Right.

Isle of Man. Family living in a farmhouse.

Claim a talking mongoose lives in their barn.

Creature's name is Gef.

A talking mongoose.

Yes.

The creature, whose name is Gef,

resembles a mongoose or some other member of--

May I?

Thank you.

"Dear Dr. Fodor, greetings.

I hope this letter finds you... The Isle of Man.

Let me begin by saying that the earliest documented instance

of an animal speaking like a human

was in the 5th century BC

by the Greek philosopher Ctesias--"

This is from Dr. Harry Price.

Yes, I-I believe he-he-he visited the Irving family

and investigated the creature.

Gef.

"And while he did not see it, he heard it.

And the Irvings, and many of the other townspeople

are utterly convinced that the creature does exist."

- Would you pour me another? - Oh, yes.

"And while he did not see it,

he heard it.

And the Irvings, and many of the other townspeople

are utterly convinced that the creature does exist."

A talking...

mongoose.

I, uh, ordered you a gin rickey.

I dimly recall a fondness for...

Thank you.

Apologies for my lateness.

I took a circuitous route,

to ensure I was not being followed.

Why on Earth would anyone follow you?

I don't know.

I did not wish to be seen together in this...

public place.

Have I become that unpopular with your peers?

I'm afraid so.

The London Spiritualist Alliance

do not take kindly to your new clinical methods of research.

So...

The mongoose.

Gef.

Well, I-I must admit I found your letter to be intriguing.

In my nearly 30 years

of investigating unnatural occurrences,

this is perhaps the strangest case

I have ever encountered.

Really?

Mr. Irving, who owns the farm upon which Gef resides,

had written me 16 letters over the past four years,

describing the antics of this bizarre creature.

Strange that he never wrote to me.

Ah, the Irving family are peculiar.

Just to be clear,

did you witness this creature during your investigation?

Did you observe it speaking like a human?

No.

No.

But I did hear it.

You did?

Yes. Once.

From another room.

From another room?

And you're certain it was the creature you heard,

not someone else?

I suppose it could have been.

We were informed by one of the townspeople

that the daughter, Voirrey,

is an adept ventriloquist.

I'm sorry.

I know how all this sounds.

What's this?

My journal.

It contains notes I took

during the investigation of the Irving family, and Gef.

An adept ventriloquist.

The people of Cashen's Gap are nearly unanimous

in their belief in-in Gef.

Many have encountered the creature, or so they say.

Interesting.

You know who you remind me of?

Who's that?

Harry Houdini.

I'm far less clever than he was.

Perhaps, but your lives have been quite similar,

in some ways.

I recall,

before you became a skeptic.

I am not a skeptic.

Before you became what you are,

I distinctly remember you telling me

the story of the seance you participated in.

With a voice medium, William Cartheuser.

You became disillusioned, with Cartheuser,

with all mediums, as we know.

And yet, you spoke

of the overwhelming emotional impact

of encountering...

your departed father.

What has this to do with Houdini?

Humans are obsessed with death.

And with what does or does not come after it.

You investigate unnatural occurrences

under the guise of understanding

why humans project these phantasms into reality.

Why they are incapable of letting go of these delusions,

as you call them.

Yes.

I think you still just miss your father.

Houdini was deeply affected

by the death of his mother, as you know.

He visited a medium

hoping he might be able to communicate with her.

And he realized that the medium was a fraud.

So he sought to disprove all mediums,

to expose all psychics

and spiritualists as opportunists,

who prey upon the bereaved.

He would attend seances in disguise,

and would leap forth and explain to those present

how they were being duped...

You are a fraud!

...demonstrating the fraudulent methods

the mediums employed.

I've heard these stories.

But he wanted to believe.

He wanted to be mystified.

He wanted to find one who did understand

so he could communicate with his dead mother.

Did you know that he and his wife, Bess,

devised a message

which one or the other would relay,

via medium, after they passed?

Supposedly they told no one this message.

I did not know this, no.

After Houdini died,

Bess visited a medium named Arthur Ford.

And he informed her he had received a message

from her late husband.

Is that right?

Bess confirmed that the message was,

in fact, the code, which only she and Harry knew.

So, what do you think about that?

I don't think anything about that.

Anne!

Ow! Who put that there?

Anne!

Is everything all right?

We are going to the Isle of Man.

Golly!

"The most extraordinary part

of this amazing case

is that Mr. Irving has kept a sort of diary

in the form of letters of Gef's doings,

and it rivals the Arabian Nights

in the fantastic improbabilities which the record contains.

Before me are 200 quarto typed sheets,

and every page describes a miracle.

I will mention some of the most interesting incidents."

In June 1932, Gef began killing rabbits,

for the family.

He strangled them,

and thoughtfully left them outside

in a convenient position on the wall.

During the next year or so, he slaughtered scores of them

and the faunal equilibrium of the district

was in danger of being upset.

In 1934,

Gef began making little trips to the nearest town

and on his return, told the farmer

what certain people have been doing.

This was proved to be correct.

Then he became clairvoyant and told the farmer

what was happening ten miles away without leaving the farm.

Questioned as to whether he was a "spirit,"

Gef said "I am an earthbound spirit."

In July of the same year, Gef began doing tricks.

A person would go outside onto the farmhouse's porch

and place some pennies on a stone.

Gef, with his eye to the door's peephole,

would then say whether they were heads or tails up.

Sometimes he was right.

Voirrey has even attempted to photograph him.

But just as she was about to press the button,

he darted off and was not heard from for days.

Gef explained that he is afraid of being caught.

Not by the camera, but by a trap.

Hence his timidity.

Sometimes Gef follows the Irvings to the nearest town

when they go marketing.

But always keeps on the far side of the hedge,

though he chats gaily all the time.

In March, 1935, I received some fur and hairs

which Gef had kindly plucked from his back and tail,

and was asked to identify it.

I forwarded it to Professor Julian Huxley,

who handed it to Mr. F. Martin Duncan, F.Z.S.,

the authority on hair and fur.

In a letter to me, he says:

I have carefully examined them microscopically

and compared them with hairs of known origin.

As a result, I can very definitely state

that these specimen hairs never grew upon a mongoose,

nor are they those of a rat, rabbit, hare, squirrel,

or other rodent, or sheep, goat, or cow.

I am inclined that these hairs have probably

been taken from a longish-haired dog or dogs.

Mr. Irving wrote that he would be delighted

to see me and would make all arrangements for my visit.

Unfortunately, on receipt of the letter

announcing my decision, Gef suddenly disappeared.

At the end of the month, he was still missing,

but I decided not to alter my plans.

And as I wanted a witness

in case Gef should put in an appearance,

I asked Mr. R.S. Lambert, the editor of The Listener,

if he would accompany me.

Upon our arrival to the Isle, we decided to visit

the haunt of Gef right away.

As we approached, Mr. Lambert and I

were startled by an animal bounding toward us.

But it was only Ralph,

the Irving's three-year-old dog,

who had heard his master's voice.

We at last reached the house and were introduced to Voirrey,

a good-looking girl of 17 who we found very intelligent,

shy, and rather quiet.

Mrs. Irving is a charming and dignified lady

who gave us a friendly welcome

and asked us to make ourselves at home.

Mr. Irving was a successful Liverpool businessman

who, at the beginning of the War,

bought the farmstead,

hoping to make a living breeding sheep.

As we sat around the paraffin lamp

in the small, dark-paneled parlor,

we heard the Gef story all over again.

Mr. Lambert and I plied the Irvings

with innumerable questions and received answers

which invariably tallied

with what Mr. Irving had recorded in his letters.

The family was heartbroken by Gef's continued absence.

Mrs. Irving was convinced the mongoose

was still about the house.

Probably listening to every word we were saying.

She addressed a few words to Gef

in the hope that her appeal

would strike a sympathetic chord somewhere.

There was no response.

Then I addressed a little speech

to the four walls of the living room,

hoping Gef would hear me.

I pointed out that we had come a long way on his account,

and that we were entitled to some manifestation.

A few words, a scream, a squeak,

or just a simple scratch behind the paneling.

I even invited him to throw something at me.

But all to no purpose.

Gef was definitely not in a talking mood.

Neither Mr. Lambert nor I slept very well.

The mongoose problem obsessed our minds

and made sleep difficult.

Was the whole affair a fraud from A to Z?

Was it a plot lasting four years?

If so, what was the motive?

Were the Irvings engaged in a clever,

picturesque conspiracy?

Was there any sort of animal at all?

Was there any real evidence whatsoever

that Gef had been heard?

If a plot...

there was no apparent motive,

no financial gain.

The next morning we awoke to the news that Gef had returned

and been talking throughout much of the night.

Incidentally, Gef had informed the farmer

that he had taken a sly glance at me

and did not like how I looked.

So I was told to stand in a certain position

on the floor and cry out "I believe in you, Gef!"

I believe in you, Gef!

There came a shrill scream from upstairs.

So once again I called out, this time saying

"Won't you come down? I believe in you!"

To which Gef replied,

"No, I don't mean to stay long,

as I don't like you!"

As the mongoose was talking,

Mr. Lambert crept toward the stairs.

But unfortunately,

the top stair had a loose tread,

which he stepped on and went tumbling down,

making a terrible noise.

Gef shrieked out "He is coming!" and vanished.

The Irvings were kindness personified,

and did everything for us, except produce Gef.

Mr. Irving personally conducted us over the house

and pointed out Gef's haunts.

We saw numerous peepholes,

cracks through which Gef threw things

at doubting visitors.

Squint-holes through which the mongoose

watches the Irvings.

We saw the runs behind paneling

by which Gef can skip, unseen,

from one room to another.

The fact that every room is paneled

makes the whole house one enormous speaking-tube,

with walls like sounding-boards.

In Voirrey's room we were shown Gef's "sanctum,"

which was a boxed partition,

on top of which Gef was said to dance

to the gramophone and bounce his favorite ball.

By speaking into one of the many apertures in the panels,

it should be possible

to convey the voice

to various parts of the house.

Apparently, Gef often does this.

Can I fetch you a drink?

Thank you. No, um, I'm exhausted.

I think I'm going to retire early.

Tomorrow should be interesting.

I'm going to go to the, uh, pub for a nightcap.

Unless there's anything else you might need?

Uh, no, by all means.

And, um, if you happen to see any talking mongeese...

It's mongooses, I believe.

Well, if you happen to see any of either then,

inform me right away.

Yes, of course.

- Night. - Good night.

Good evening.

- And to you. - Is the bar closed?

What would you like to drink, m'dear?

A whiskey.

I dunno if it's good whiskey I'm afraid.

Well, shouldn't we wait for...

For whom?

Here to see ol' Gef, right?

I am the assistant to Dr. Nandor Fodor,

the world's foremost parapsychologist.

And we are here to investigate a possible

supernatural occurrence

involving an entity known as,

yes, Gef.

Hm.

Gef ain't supernatural.

He's an earth spirit.

Told me that hisself, he did.

Have you encountered him?

Indeed I have.

Once.

Were near two years past now.

Did you see him? Can you describe him?

Were but only for the briefest of moments.

And outta the corner of me eye.

Oh, I see.

But I heard him speak.

Clear as day.

It were after the funeral rites Father Penzen read

for my beloved Helen.

Is that your wife?

Aye.

Nigh onto 30 years.

It was consumption took her...

before her time.

I am very sorry.

I'd had a few that day.

I wasn't copin' too well with her loss.

So by's time the rites had been read,

I had to piss somethin' fierce.

So I went 'round the side of that old church,

where I'd be outta sight.

And it was when I was standin' there, pissin',

that I heard him.

- Gef? - Aye.

He recited a poem to me.

And even now, rememberin', I get a bit blubbery.

"I dreamed that one had died in a strange place

Near no accustomed hand

And they had nailed the boards above her face

The peasants of that land

Wondering to lay her in that solitude

And raised above her mound

A cross they had made out of two bits of wood

And planted cypress round

And left her to the indifferent stars above

Until I carved these words

She was more beautiful than thy first love

But now lies under boards..."

That were the day I finally quit drinkin'.

That poem was by Yeats, wasn't it?

It's "A Dream of Death."

Aye.

But it weren't only the poem itself that struck me so.

It were that voice.

That voice that got inside of me.

Felt like it were playin' up my spinal cord like piano keys.

I see.

I'd been numb.

See?

Unaccepting that she were gone.

It were the first time I allowed myself to feel the pain.

I needed to.

I needed to.

I understand.

Ya wanna know the strangest part of the whole story, though?

There's something stranger than what you just told me?

Aye.

My Helen passed in April of '33.

Good Friday, if you can believe it.

Oh.

That poem, Yeats, as you know,

it weren't published until the summer of '34.

Oh.

Hm.

You don't believe me, do ya?

Well, it was a very sad story.

Aye.

You must understand, Dr. Fodor has instilled in me

a tremendous skepticism.

He always says, "Believe only that

which can be seen and heard,

touched, detected by instruments of science.

Believe not words,

but provable, observable facts."

And that's how ya live, then?

I mean, Dr. Fodor is a brilliant man.

Your story's as sad as mine, I think.

In its own way.

Hey. Hey.

- You must be Dr. Fodor. - Yeah. Hello.

- You must be Anne. - How do you do?

Delighted to make your acquaintance!

Welcome to Cashen's Gap!

I see you've already met our mayor!

We're all very excited that you're here.

Dr. Price spoke quite highly of you.

Now, he was a lovely man, he was.

Oh. Indeed.

Best of luck to you.

Oh, thank you, Maurice.

Mayor.

Have to drive you rest of the way to the house

if that's all right with you.

The, uh, grade can be a bit more

uneven at times, I'm afraid.

I think we will be fine.

The warmth of this winter in particular,

makes it very suitable for cultivation of apricots.

Delicious little darlings, if you've never had 'un.

- I think I'm gonna be sick. - Oh, gosh.

And here, closer to the water, the soil's a lot lighter,

more akin to sand, so the cherry trees just love it.

You can see 'em there.

What?

And with how warm it's been, as I mentioned,

you know, the fruit's just been growin' so well.

Last year was more profitable than the previous,

which had been more profitable than the previous.

And this year, you know, set to be the best yet.

You know, it's more work, but it's rewarding, in its way.

Oh, Dr. Fodor, this is my wife, Margaret.

Maggie, this is Dr. Nandor Fodor,

and his assistant, Anne.

It's a real pleasure to meet ya, Dr. Fodor.

Dr. Price spoke so admiringly of ya in his letters.

I wanted to have read your book before you arrived,

but when I ordered it from Pavel's in town,

they said it'd be a month before a copy came.

Well, that is very kind, and, uh, entirely unnecessary.

And aren't you a beautiful thing?

Such eleemosynary eyes.

Hello.

Married, are you? Hmm?

Oh. Oh, no.

I'm sor... I'm...

No. [splutters] I'm-I'm-I'm...

I'm Dr. Fodor's assistant.

I didn't mean to each other, silly girl.

Though by your reaction, perhaps I touched

on a subject that's a wee bit sore.

For God's sake.

I meant are you married at all!

You've a figure suitable for birthin'.

Um...

May I see your hand?

Oh, gosh, yes.

So, your love line... Oh, here.

All right, all right, that's enough of that.

They haven't come all this way to hear you prattle on.

I'm sorry.

And you must be Voirrey.

Pleased to meet you, Dr. Fodor.

Dr. Price mentioned that you are an accomplished ventriloquist.

Oh.

I wouldn't consider myself accomplished, sir.

Self-taught, are we?

Yes, sir. Used to make my dolls talk, when I was a girl.

One day I scared my friend, Saoirse,

'cause she thought they were really talkin'.

Fascinating.

Oh, this is my hand, Errol.

He, uh, sees to the house, tends the crops with me.

He lives in the guest house.

I'm honored to make your acquaintance, Dr. Fodor.

And I yours.

And who are these?

Ralph and Rolf.

Which one is this?

That's Rolf.

Rolf?

Well, thank you for introducing us

to your lovely family, uh, Mr. Irving.

We have, as you said, traveled a great distance,

in the hope that we might meet

another member of your household.

Yes, of course, you're here to see Gef.

Indeed.

Now, uh, is the creature here? May we see him?

Creature? Uh, well.

Gef is always here, you know, you might say.

He's always about. Um...

But he is not currently in the house.

At the moment. He left about a week ago.

Shortly after we informed him you were comin' actually.

He, um, he gets a bit upset, you know, when we bring

experts in to see him.

Yeah, he sees it as an insult.

He says he knows he exists, so why's he got

to prove it to anyone else?

Ah.

Nothin' to worry about, you know, I assure you!

As I said, Gef's always here, this is his home.

If I had to guess, I would say the wee rascal's

probably watchin' us right now.

Yeah.

Tryin' to get the measure of ya.

No, but there's a cave,

about half a mile up the mountain,

and often that when he's not in the house

that's where I'll find him.

That's almost certain where he's gonna be.

Anyway, come inside and have a cuppa tea.

My wife's baked a raspberry tart you've just got to taste.

Oh, that sounds lovely.

Come on. Come on.

I've found that when Gef's not here in the house with us,

oftentimes he can be found in a cave

toward the top of the mountain.

And I'd wager that's where he is now.

I see.

A bit of a hike to get there, though.

You know, it's all uphill,

the trail's a bit uneven.

Doesn't bother Gef much, I presume,

with his quick little feet.

But might prove a bit more trying

for our awkward human paws.

So... not here at the moment, as we've determined.

Don't know what else to do with the day.

Well...

let's see that cave.

Do you know how many breeds of sheep there are in the world?

I confess I do not.

Many thousands.

Although only a rare few

are what we call "fine wool"

but they're not as common here.

Although I've had a lot of success with Rambouillet,

although they generally don't prefer the rain.

Fascinating.

What's fascinating?

Sheep.

Oh. Oh.

All right. Here we are.

One of Gef's favorite hiding spots.

Gef!

Gef! You in there, old boy?

I got Dr. Fodor and his lovely assistant here to see you.

See, the cave goes in a fair bit.

Because he ain't answerin' and we can't see him,

doesn't mean he ain't here.

You know, perhaps-- you don't have to, of course,

but perhaps if you announce yourself to him,

just say there's absolutely no doubt in your mind he's real

and that might assuage any concerns he may have,

and convince him to show himself.

What exactly would you like me to say?

Just that. Just tell him who you are,

and that you're certain he's real,

and that you mean no harm to him.

Not here to vivisect him or anything.

Let's just say hello.

- Hello? - Hm.

Hello. Very well.

Hello.

Hello, Gef.

- Go on, go on. - Right.

My name is Dr. Nandor Fodor.

And, um...

Mr. Irving has instructed me to inform you

that I believe that, uh, you exist.

And, uh...

I would add that, um, if you are currently residing in this cave,

would you be amenable to venturing out

so that we may converse?

I am very excited

to make your acquaintance.

- How was that? - That was brilliant.

- Really good. - Brilliant.

Yeah.

You know, if he is in there,

I've absolutely no doubt in my mind

that speech is certain to draw him out.

Really?

Damn. Oh, damn.

What?

I'm truly sorry, Dr. Fodor. I really am.

Appears our little friend isn't here at the moment.

Perhaps he is in town.

You know, probably slipped past us as we were climbing up.

Could be back at the house, playing in Voirrey's room.

He's got a little space there...

Yeah, I know. I know.

I did read Dr. Price's diary.

Indeed. Well...

Seeing as Gef isn't gonna grace us with his presence,

maybe we should venture into the cave anyway?

You see, one unfortunate characteristic of Gef

is that he can be a bit of a thief at times.

You know, often we'll find this or that,

trinket or bauble missing, a trifle from the kitchen.

Others in town have reported similar incidents.

Maybe...

he has been ferreting away some of his plunder here?

Yeah.

Please, after you.

Well, I'll just leave my bag here,

because if you fall I'll need my hands.

Yes, you go first.

- Be careful. - Yes.

Yes, yes, as I suspected.

A veritable trove of ill-gotten goods.

Come on, come see.

Oh, yeah.

God.

Yes, look at this.

I would say...

unquestionably, that's Gef's as well.

Want to take that back to London with you, for testing?

Thank you, Mr. Irving.

I'll make sure this gets safely back to London.

Yeah.

I did once see a mongoose in India, 1929.

Oh, right. Did it talk?

What are you laughing at?

Nothing.

Was there a pair of women's undergarments back there?

Look, from what I hear, everybody on this island

has their Gef story.

An account of their encounter with this creature.

Tell me yours.

- I got no Gef story. - No?

I find that incredible,

considering you reside on the Irving Farm.

I got no Gef story.

You and I both know...

there ain't no Gef.

What did you just say?

What did you just say?

Oh, golly. Oh golly, lemonade.

Um, I'm going to need to use the loo

before we brave that road again.

Could you just... Thank you.

Just... Thank you!

All right.

♪ Someday I'll find you ♪

♪ Moonlight behind you ♪

♪ True to the dream I am dreaming ♪

♪ As I draw near you ♪

♪ You'll smile a little smile ♪

♪ For a little while ♪

Just like that.

♪ Someday, I'll find you ♪

♪ Moonlight behind you ♪

Oh. Hello, Ms. Anne.

Hello, Voirrey. Uh, sorry for the intrusion.

I was just coming upstairs and I heard you singing.

May I come in?

Gosh, you have such a lovely room.

That was Noel Coward, the song?

You have a lovely voice.

Thank you. So do you.

Oh. Well, that's very kind of you to say.

Would you mind telling me a bit more about your talent?

I could teach you if you like.

It's quite simple, really.

I'm not sure I'd be any good.

It's quite simple.

I promise.

You... you just... you just did it.

That's incredible.

Keep your mouth mostly closed.

Your tongue loose.

There are certain sounds that are easier to make

without moving your lips.

Oh.

Try it.

Now?

Now. Speak.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Yes. I should need a bit more practice, I think.

Indeed.

The way you throw your voice?

It's a marvel.

It is.

That is something I would be very interested in learning.

I could teach you the theory, I think.

But it requires a lot of practice.

Oh, I'm sure.

Humans can actually determine from whence a sound comes.

We hear it with our eyes as much as we do our ears.

Sound has no direction, only modulation.

Sounds that are further away sound different...

than those nearby.

Oh. Gosh. It's... it's fascinating.

♪ Someday, I'll find you ♪

♪ Moonlight behind you ♪

♪ True to the dream I am dreaming ♪

You are a wonder.

Why don't you give it a try?

Oh, I have no idea how.

Just try.

Focus all your attention on to that spot on the wall,

and make it sing.

Make it sing.

- I don't know how. - Try.

♪ Moonlight behind... ♪

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Put your voice into the space.

Make the space sing.

All right. But I don't think it's going to work.

♪ Someday, I'll find you ♪

♪ Moonlight behind you ♪

♪ True to the dream I am dreaming ♪

♪ As I draw near you You'll smile a little smile ♪

♪ For a little while ♪

They're, um, they're gonna be waiting for me.

I have to go.

I sincerely apologize for having brought you here.

Oh, there's no need to apologize.

They're very kind people.

Lunatics. The lot of them.

Particularly the patriarch.

I remain entirely mystified as to their motives,

but am certain that this is an inexplicable farce.

The only one among them with any sense whatsoever

would seem to be their man, Errol.

Well, I think they're all very kind.

There was...

There was a pair of undergarments

in that cave today.

Did you notice that?

A woman's small clothes.

Do you really think there's no possible chance

they're telling the truth?

I beg your pardon.

I know today was unusual.

And I know that the Irvings are unusual.

This thought keeps going round and round in my head.

Why?

If it is as you said and it's all a great charade,

then what is the Irvings' motive?

Ere the arrival of Gef--At the alleged arrival!

Ere the alleged incident,

the Irvings were a well-to-do family,

they've a pristine reputation they're financially secure.

Didn't strike me as con artists.

If they were charging admission, perhaps.

Do you really have no theories whatsoever?

Now that you've met them.

If it were an individual person suffering from these delusions--

if it were just Mr. Irving espousing the existence

of this creature at the behest of his family

and the townspeople, then perhaps I could formulate

a thorough psychological evaluation.

But the fact that it is the entire family,

the entire town, it would seem...

So you think it is some sort of mass hysteria?

And you do not believe,

it is in the realm of possibility

that the Irvings are telling the truth and that Gef is real?

Do you?

Anne?

Is everything...

Sorry to disturb you so late, sir.

But there's a call for you.

A call?

At this hour?

From whom?

Is it from America?

Not from America, sir.

The call...

it is from...

him.

Hello.

Hello, this is Dr. Nandor Fodor.

There does not appear to be anyone

on the other end of the line.

Dr. Fodor... Yes.

Yes. Hello. Uh... with whom am I speaking, please?

I am a freak!

I have hands and I have feet!

And if you ever saw me, you would be paralyzed,

petrified, mummified, and turned to a pillar of salt!

All right.

I am the fifth dimension!

I am the eighth wonder of the world.

I can split an atom.

Uh, yes. Uh...

Gef, is-is that you?

I am the Holy Ghost!

Yes, that-that-that is wonderful.

Uh, Gef, I went today with Mr. Irving to a cave

where you have, uh, previously been observed and, uh...

well, had you been there, you would have heard me proclaim,

in no uncertain terms, my sincere belief in your...

uh, well, existence.

Um, and so I suppose I should say,

I would very much like to meet you in person,

if you were so inclined.

Um, I promise you, I have no malicious intentions

towards you whatsoever.

I shall never see you again.

Again?

Did-did you see me today at-the-at the cave?

Your father.

What about him?

Hm. That's what your father said to you.

Before you left.

I shall never see you again.

What?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I shall let you see me.

How could you know that about my father?

Hello?

I am-- I mean, was something of a public figure

and some scientific and pseudo-scientific journals

have published articles about me, haven't they?

And...

theoretically, if you wish

to discover certain facts about my life,

how I left Budapest for New York,

and then, surmise how...

a-a certain conversation may have gone.

Fine morning to the both of you! I trust you slept soundly?

Yes. Thank you.

No.

Oh.

I'll admit I was very surprised, waking to hear

the news that Gef had extended an invitation to you personally!

What? He called you on the phone, did he?

Someone called me last night. Yes.

I wonder whose telephone he accosted for that purpose,

the wee devil.

The Guileys, I'd wager.

They've got an old candlestick phone

right next to the window in their foyer.

It would've been easy for him to slip in and dial you.

He's got such nimble little fingers.

Does he now?

Hmm. Hmm.

Hmm.

Here we are.

Hmm. Thank you, love.

Uh, will Voirrey be joining us today?

I-I'm afraid she's not feeling well, poor girl.

She's got a mild allergy to ragwort,

if you can believe that.

So summers can be a bit...

I see.

Oh! I nearly forgot!

Encyclopaedia of Psychic Science.

What a mouthful!

It arrived at Pavel's yesterday,

shortly before their usual closing time.

But they waited for me to rush over and pick it up.

I can't wait to read it!

I'll give you my honest thoughts, when I've finished.

Yesterday, you say.

Well, I, uh, I hope you enjoy it.

"The only comprehensive survey

of every kind of psychical phenomena known to mankind".

Well, I presume Gef's not in it.

So you'll have to write a sequel after today.

Looks like you weren't the only one Gef called last night!

Well, it's, uh...

It's a pleasure to receive so many of you here today.

I hope you'll excuse my not having provided

adequate refreshments for the occasion.

And, had my wife and I known so many of you were comin',

we'd have tea and biscuits for the lot of ya.

Gef failed to inform us he had spoken to so many of you.

Called me in the dead of night, he did!

Asked after sister and her drinkin'.

How in the bloody hell did he know about that?

Called me Candy.

Nobody's called me that since me grandma

passed on 20 years ago!

Yes! Yes, I know we're all very excited!

But please, please. Now as I was saying...

We've got guests who've traveled a great distance

in order to investigate our friend Gef.

That's Dr. Nandor Fodor and his assistant, Anne.

Now, Dr. Fodor is one of the world's leading experts

in the field of the paranormal.

A term I think we can all agree, aptly describes our friend Gef.

Now as we all know,

Gef can be a bit of a skittish fellow at times.

I mean, I was genuinely surprised

he was open to this viewing. So...

Unfortunately, it is all gonna be a bit brief.

While I'd like you all to be able to talk,

you know, if we all start shouting

he's just gonna get agitated and run off. So...

Do I have your agreement from the lot of you

that you're gonna do your best to remain calm?

Yes.

- Yeah. - Really?

Well, yeah.

Yeah.

Right then.

This way, please.

Right. Just take a step back, please.

It's a bit dark in here, isn't it?

Now, we're gonna take back the sheet.

But I think it's only fair

that we allow our distinguished guests

to be the first to address Gef.

Go on.

Is-is that him? There? In the box?

That little... little tuft of fur?

Looks like he's bein' a bit shy after all.

Well, can you tell him to come out so we can see him?

Can you tell him to come out so we can see him?

Ask him your question now, before he has a change of heart.

Uh, yes, Gef. Hello. Thank you for letting us meet you in...

person at last.

Um, Mr. Irving said that we could ask you a question.

Is-is that all right?

Hmm... yes.

Right. When we spoke on the telephone

the other night, uh, you said something.

You repeated something that my father said to me

a long time ago.

Um, how did you know that he said those words?

How did you know that he told me he would never see me again?

I have seen beyond the bounds of infinity

and drawn down demons from the stars.

I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world

to sow death and madness.

Come on, get him outside.

Let's give him some air.

This may be a bullshit. Take a look.

I am-- I am deeply sorry, Dr. Fodor.

All the commotion will have scared poor Gef off.

But as I said to you before, he always returns, in time.

You have been here all along.

You know that this is a great farce.

You know that these people are mad.

And yet you do nothing.

You indulge them.

So do you.

I am here in the name of scientific research.

If you say so.

None of this bothers you.

These people obsessed with an entity that they cannot

even reliably prove is real.

That it is adults perpetuating this nonsense.

Men and women who are, for all intents and purposes,

ordinary, functioning members of society.

Why do you care so much?

It is my job to care. To understand.

All anyone wants in this world... is to be happy.

Maybe you'd be happy if you let people believe

what they want to believe.

Your perspective is endearing but childishly simplistic.

Who in this world is happier than a child, hmm?

Maybe...

simple ain't so bad, eh?

But these people are lying!

Oh, everyone lies.

They are intentionally,

inexplicably misleading others!

People love that mongoose.

The one that does not exist.

- Yeah. - Yeah.

Well, I intend to expose that they're lying.

Okay.

You must be a lot of fun at parties.

Excuse me?

I am invited to and attend many parties.

More than you, I would wager!

And I have many interesting conversations at these parties!

Enlightening, entertaining discussions

with people from every field of study

and strata of society.

Yeah.

When you walk away, they call you an asshole.

Asshole.

Whereby, I previously stated

that the housekeeper, Errol,

was the only person at the Irving estate

with even an ounce of sense...

I rescind that statement now.

I believe he may be the craziest of them all.

"Why do you care so much?"

he had the gall to ask me.

With casual disregard for my almost 20 years

of research in this field.

Research which, I may say,

has proven invaluable to many.

"Let people believe what they want to believe."

That doesn't seem like the worst advice in the world.

Should I have remained a lawyer?

You always said you hated practicing law.

I did.

My father...

his dream was that I remain in Budapest

and marry Hanna Varga.

A simple life.

Would that have made you happy?

No.

But I might still be with my father now

and not on this accursed island chasing an imaginary mongoose.

He's not imaginary.

I'm sorry. What?

Gef.

I think he not only exists,

much as the Irvings have described him,

but I'm certain of it.

You're certain of it?

You had better not fucking be serious.

Good night, Nandor.

It's Dr. Fodor!

And good night!

Maurice!

Dr. Fodor.

I have just received a call from the Irving family.

I see.

And they have requested that I

come up to the-- to perform some further investigation,

at their residence.

So I will need you to drive me up to the farm.

It's a bit late, isn't it?

Hmm. Oh, and I will need to borrow this.

Gef!

Are you here, Gef?

Gef! It's your friend, Dr. Fodor!

I'd just love to speak with you for a moment.

I'll let you steal my underpants!

Dr. Fodor?

Is everything all right?[Dr. Fodor] Ah!

Feeling better, are we, Voirrey?

You know, I must confess, we weren't expecting

another visit from you this evening.

Where is Gef?

He's not here at the moment.

I'm afraid today's excitement scared him off.

But if you return tomorrow at a reasonable hour...

- Gef! - Dr. Fodor! Please!

I need... I need to come inside for some further investigation.

I don't think that's a good idea to allow you in our home

at this time, in your condition.

Oh, in my condition?

Hmm.

Well, very well. If you will not let me in,

I will conduct my own investigation out here.

Gef!

I'm going to check the barn.

Go and alert the constable.

Dr. Fodor!

I've instructed Margaret to go and alert the constable.

Now I would advise you

to accompany Maurice back to his car,

and he can take you back to your inn,

where you can sleep this off.

Oh, Gef!

Little Geffer?

I want to talk to you!

We can talk more about my father!

I'll-- I'll give you a signed copy of my book!

Dr. Fodor! No!

Apologies, my friend.

Ah. Ow.

Ah.

Hello?

Hello!

Sounds like someone got a bit hammered this evening.

Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie. Where do we go after we die?

Who's there?

If only you were little like me,

you could squeeze between these bars and be free!

This is madness.

Gef, is it?

I refuse to participate in this...

farce any longer.

Hello?

Hello!

I require the use of a telephone,

so I may call my assistant to arrange my release.

I have an account at the, uh, Abbey Bank in London,

if I am required to post some kind of bond.

Or, if you would prefer,

my attorney is Marlon Sandersen, Esquire, in New York City.

I can assure you I will be placing a call to him

if I am not released immediately.

Right, right. So be it.

Damn you!

Whoever you are!

How did you know what my father said to me?

Did-did-did you read my book?

What-what do you hope to gain...

from this...

insanity?

Is it-is it some kind of... financial incentive? Or...

do you just crave attention?

That's it. That's it, isn't it? It's...

Well, then show yourself!

If you are able to squeeze through these bars,

like you say, then step into the corridor

and let me look at you!

Let me get a good look at you, Gef!

I intend to publish an article

about this entire incident on my return to London.

And...

the tone of that article,

the way in which I portray you

and the Irving family and this entire accursed island

shall be determined by this moment

and whether or not you let me look upon you.

Please!

What if there is nothing after this?

No Heaven, no Hell. Just nothing.

No awareness of the fact that we were ever aware at all.

Stop it! Please!

Just show yourself.

Just for a moment, please. Just...

Just show me that you're real.

Just a-a-a tuft of your little tail.

W-Wait! What if you scratch my arm?

With your claws, just a little scratch. Please.

Please, I'm begging you. Just a little scratch,

with your little claws.

I don't want to hurt you.

Even though you want to hurt me.

I don't!

I don't want to hurt you.

What do you mean?

I mean you no harm.

And I don't mind. Really. Just--

I'm asking, I am begging you, please.

Just scratch my arm, there. Just on the wrist.

Ow! Ow!

Thank you.

You all right?

Yeah. I think it is time

that I returned to London.

After careful consideration,

I've decided that upon returning to London,

I will be tending my resignation as your assistant.

Because of the mongoose.

Yes.

And because I am unhappy.

So am I.

I will offer my wholehearted recommendation

to any future prospective employers

should they contact me regarding you.

Thank you.

And...

I will miss you.

I will miss you too, Nandor.

Well, then don't leave.

I have already decided.

Well, then undecide.

Do you really, really, really want me to stay?

I would be utterly lost without you.

Well...

Were I to consider staying,

I should require a raise in pay by a dollar an hour.

Oh.

Fine.

And a letter of introduction

to Dr. Elliot Weaving of the University of Kent's

Paranormal Research Department.

I despise that man.

He respects you.

Fine. Anything else?

Yes.

You must consider... the possibility, at least,

that Gef is real.

I wish you the best in all your future endeavors.

Fine!

A dollar an hour?

Yes.

And the letter of introduction.

Reluctantly, yes.

Then I accept.

Welcome back.

The Calvert, was it?

It was. But, um, I regret to inform you that, uh...

I've quit drinking.[laughs] Oh.

The trip was that bad?

From Mr. James Irving.

Oh, God.

"Dr. Fodor,

while your trip to Dalby Mountain

began somewhat auspiciously,

the way in which you made your departure was..."

Blah, blah, blah.

"I regret to inform you that I have employed

the honorable Karl Leibovitz,

an attorney from Leeds who specializes

in litigating cases involving libel, slander,

and defamation suits."

Oh. Incredible.

Uh, blah, blah and we get to the-- ah, yes.

"I inform you of all this not as a threat,

but as a piece of information for you to keep in mind

when and if you ever decide to publish an account

chronicling your time at Cashen's Gap."

Oh.

You want me to order you a glass of water?

Uh, please.

What about Gef himself?

Have you heard from the bastard?

He calls me once a week, at least.

He called me about a month ago.

Told me that I had left one of my shoes behind,

and that he was keeping it safe in his little cave,

should I ever care to return.

Son of a bitch!

Gef has become a bit of a local celebrity.

Did you hear about the case of R.S. Lambert

and the British Broadcasting Company?

Indeed.

And did you hear that after you left,

a filmmaker by the name of Roger Sanz

brought a film crew to the Isle

to attempt to obtain evidence of Gef

via motion pictures?

Did I hear!

The Haunting of the Isle of Man.

I attended the film's premiere,

if you could call it that.

On the remote Isle of Man,

a little seen but much heard little creature

going by the name of Gef is fast becoming

as famous a mystery as the Loch Ness Monster,

only this elusive creature talks,

baffling experts with his sinister

and powerful pronouncements.

I saw it shortly thereafter.

I think it, uh, unequivocally

puts the mystery of Gef's existence to rest.

Will you be publishing an article

about your experience, then,

considering how litigious our friend Mr. Irving has become?

I think I will, yes.

Hmm.

A braver man than I!

Well, I will portray the Irvings and their imaginary pet

in a far kinder hue than they deserve.

And though my time at the farm was admittedly...

horrific,

as the weeks and months pass, I recall with...

more and more fondness my bizarre time there.

I feel the same.

And in the end,

do you feel as though you understand any better

the phenomena that is Gef?

Or the motives of the Irvings?

Perhaps.

Why is it that we write, Dr. Price?

Hmmm.

To chronicle our experiences, I suppose?

To remember.

Perhaps you can recall every detail

of the cases you've investigated,

but I fear...

entire sections of my life have faded from view.

That is not what I meant.

To journal certainly,

but why do we publish our writings?

To remember, you said.

No, we publish our writings to be remembered.

We do not speak of it, often,

but we want our names to be known.

To be recognized within our field, and without.

I do not want fame!

Neither do I.

But we would not publish our findings,

we would not write novels, Dr. Price,

if we did not wish them to be read.

It is incredibly ironic

that one of the most profound questions I have ever been asked

was by none other than Gef himself.

You're kidding!

No.

"What if there is nothing after this?"

the creature entreated.

"No Heaven, no Hell. Just nothing.

No awareness that we were ever aware at all."

A grim query!

Indeed.

What if there is nothing before or after?

What if this is all there is?

If that is so, then...

all that is left after our bodies die

are the things we leave behind.

In your case, and in mine, it is our writings.

The tales of the bizarre places we have been,

the-the people and phenomena we have observed.

That we have experienced these things,

is what makes us unique,

among the two billion or so people on this planet.

What, then, makes the Irvings unique?

For what will they be remembered?

Yeah, I just wanted to give out, uh, a shout to the entire...

well, almost,

the entire cast and crew, uh, on the production

of Nandor Fodor and the Talking Mongoose.

An extraordinary cast, incredible crew, amazing DOP.

Extraordinary costumes, set. I mean, everything was amazing.

Um, apart from working with Adam. Um...

'cause he is a bit of a diva, to say the least.

I've been in this business for over 40-plus years.

I've worked with some great actors,

great writers, directors,

all kinds of great people.

But I've never worked with a complete [bleep].

And the guy who wins that prize is a guy called Adam Sigal.

Who calls himself a director.

Really, really challenging guy, yeah.

You get a project

and you read it and you get excited about it

and the money is good and all that stuff,

and then you get there and there's just...

this guy at the helm.

The man's a fool. Couldn't direct traffic.

And I was like, "Oh, by the way,

there's two words that I wanted to just swap around,

because I just think it might fly a little bit better."

And he said, "What the did you say about my script?"

If something wasn't going right,

he would just stand up and shout,

and then just storm off,

and you wouldn't see him for hours.

And then when he was ready to come on set,

he wouldn't come back on set.

He would just send back an Alsatian called Gavin,

who he then would scream from the other room,

"Gavin's now directing!"

And you can tell, obviously, when watching the movie,

the parts that are directed by a dog.

Because they're better!

I... I can't talk right now.

He grabbed me by the back of my hair.

He slammed my face down really hard on my desk.

That was day one.

Uh, Adam Sigal is a [bleep] bubble,

and I wish that mother[bleep]

would just [bleep] off back to Florida

with the rest of the [bleep] alligators

and [bleep] hicks that he hangs out with.

What a [bleep]!

What a [bleep]!