All language subtitles for Blott on the Landscape Episode 1 of 6

(MIMICS TRUMPET MUSIC)

- Cuckoo?
- I beg your pardon?

Someone's just heard the cuckoo.

It's the middle of June!

Well, this is in Newcastle.

Ah! They've reported my speech
on prison overcrowding.

I take it you're FOR it!

- Good God, what on earth is this, Mrs Purity?
- That's your breakfast, Giles.

Breakfast? It's uncooked oysters.

- One hardly expects oysters cooked.
- One hardly expects oysters for breakfast at all!

Yesterday it was red peppers!
Good God, what's that bloody man doing now?

Bringing in the main course?

He's doing what he's paid for - his gardening!

But why does he always stare in like that?

- (BANGS ON WINDOW)
- Open it, Mrs Purity!

- He is bagged.
- Oh, yes, Blott. Thank you very much.

Damn man, always prowling around!

I don't like him. He's foreign, his teeth
aren't nice and he doesn't behave like a servant!

I suppose he's not obsequious enough for you?

Bloody man thinks he owns the place!
Mrs Purity, take this vileness away!

Put it back, Mrs Purity.

That is not breakfast. Kedgeree is breakfast.

Porridge and kippers are breakfast.
Oysters are never breakfast!

- Eat them, Giles. They're good for you.
- Good for me? Good for my what?

They say that oysters
really make a man a man.

Ah, that's it.
This fodder is supposed to make me randy.

I don't want to be. I want to read the "Times"!
So take it away and bring me a soft-boiled egg!

Very well, Giles. I shall go out into the garden.

- You do, dear.
- To squash some slugs!

Really?

Tomorrow's breakfast, by any chance?

All right, Giles Lynchwood!

All right, Giles.
It's about time we had this thing out!

Pardon? What thing out?

Sex!

Sex, Giles. Sex!

- Maud, I'm reading the obituaries.
- Sex!

Look, we've been through this
many times before.

We've never been through it once.

Most men would be avid for it.

I was brought up as a gentleman, Maud.

(SHE SIGHS)

- Get up, Giles.
- Pardon?

Come over here and look out of this window!

- What do you see?
- That bloody man again!

Nature in its profusion,
the procreative cycle at work.

- Why doesn't he do the rose garden?
- It should be full of children.

- You put up fences to keep them out.
- OUR children!

The Handyman family have lived
over Cleene Gorge for 500 years.

Building houses
of ever-increasing hideousness.

And I have every intention
of seeing Handymans here for the next 500.

No doubt you find me very romantic.

No.

I refuse to end my days as a childless widow!

Widow?

Giles, to be honest, I don't care whether you live
or die. The important word is "childless".

- I want an heir!
- Isn't there enough to look after as it is?

When we married
there was a clear understanding.

A business arrangement. One would hardly like
to sully it by dragging sex into it.

The arrangement was you should be the father
to my children. I'm not getting any younger!

- No, you're not.
- I'm nearly 40. It'll soon be too late!

Giles, I expect you
to do your duty by me here and now.

- Here and now?
- Here and now!

- These things should happen naturally.
- Ha! Evidently not with you!

I haven't forgotten our honeymoon.
I realise you have your own peculiarities.

- Little tastes.
- I want to breed!

No, I'm not inclined. I'm going to London. The
House is sitting. Urgent parliamentary matters.

- I'm sure Parliament can wait...
- No, the country must be governed!

I refuse to go to my grave
as the last Handyman.

How can you avoid it?
If we had children, they'd be Lynchwoods.

No, they wouldn't.
I'd change their name by deed poll!

There will be no children by this marriage.
That is final.

- That's your last word?
- It is!

Then I shall take steps
to divorce you immediately.

You shall be hearing from my solicitor!

- (DOOR SLAMS)
- Yes, dear.

Blott! Where are you?

(RINGING TONE)

Mrs Forthby? It's Sir G.

- Oh, Sir G!
- Are you alone?

Of course.

And what are we today?

Guess.

A nice nanny, a Girl Guide?

No, you might say, erm...

Mediterranean harlot.

Marvellous. And what are we wearing?

I'm not telling you.
You come up to London and find out!

Ohh!

Mediterranean harlot. Ho-ho-ho-ho!

Oh, dear...

(BLOTT) Well, I drive to Worford.
When I get there, you make shout, OK?

Only tell me where to go
and for you, I go there. OK, lady?

Exactly, Blott.

Solicitor... What means that, solicitor?

Solicitor means...

Solicitor means trouble, Blott.

Oh. Trouble.

Very nice.

You know, Blott, you're still a mystery to me.

You to me also.

I know that you were a refugee.

I know my father found you when he was
in the army and brought you here to be gardener.

- What a kind man!
- But he never told me anything.

What are you, Blott?

German? Italian?

Polish? Czech?

Once I am in Scotland,
but that does not mean I am Scottish.

So many questions. "What is your accent?"
I have accent? It is not accent.

Is speech defect. Accent is quite other thing.

"Are you from east, from west?"
I am here. This is enough.

- Blott, you're infuriating!
- Thank you, lady.

Where are your family?

No family. I am alone.

- You're sure you won't?
- I want a divorce!

A divorce, my lady, between
two such well-endowed, you understand me,

parties as Sir Giles and yourself
is hardly a simple matter.

It is Sir Giles we're speaking of?

Well, I can hardly divorce anyone else, can I?

Quite so.

Mr Ganglion, I want a divorce, I want it quickly

and I want full possession of Handyman Hall
and the entire estate. Is that absolutely clear?

Yes.

A divorce? You wish to sever the ties
with the redoubtable Lady Maud?

Actually, SHE does.

- I am sorry.
- I'm delighted.

- I see. You want it?
- Subject to two conditions.

My reputation as an MP
must not come under question.

I retain the house and estate. I paid enough
for them in the marriage settlement.

Handyman Hall is a most desirable property.

Not if you live there.

It's one of the worst examples
of late-Victorian baronial monstrosity.

Vile furnishings, hideous bricks,
a heating system that only heats aeroplanes.

- Yes.
- Plumbing that registers on the Richter scale.

- Yet you want to retain possession?
- Prime, you know me.

I made my fortune recognising
the potential advantage

of unprepossessing properties,
and speaking of Lady Maud...

Lady Maud, if you'd just allow me
to explain matters to you.

A divorce is one thing,
but you can hardly expect to retain the estate.

But I want the estate!

I'm totally attached to that house.
It's my family home. Those are my roots.

Quite so, it's only natural.

I remember Handyman Hall
in its finest days, you know.

Well, that house is mine.

Balls.

Shoots. Garden parties.

I myself once danced till dawn.

There were flowers stuck in bosoms,
servants in gloves.

Royalty came. Edward VII visited twice and
seduced your grandmother on both occasions.

Mistook her for one of the chambermaids.

Which is how your dear grandfather
earned his seat in the Lords, I understand.

The Palace is ever gracious
in admitting a mistake.

I want a divorce and I want my house back!

Dear lady,
that's what I'm trying to explain to you.

The house would have declined entirely

had not Sir Giles purchased it
in your marriage settlement. It's his.

Then I want you to find a way
of making it mine!

It's quite impossible unless you have some
extraordinary grounds in the divorce petition.

- I have.
- Oh.

Might I ask what?

Mr Ganglion, wouldn't you say
that I have certain charms?

What? Well...

Yes, if... if asked, I would.

I was quite lovely
when I married Giles six years ago.

Left to myself, I'd have chosen
a more exciting man. They were around.

Oh, yes. Indeed.

But I listened to you
and I did my duty to family and to house.

And in return,
I expected certain duties from Giles.

Duties?

You understand me, Mr Ganglion?

Bedroom duties.

Oh...

Those duties.

It was always a marriage of convenience.

Strange phrase. Brought me very little.

The house, the estate,

a titled background, a seat in Parliament.

At the price of living with Maud.

My dear Lady Maud, there are some duties
hard both to define... and to exact.

Women have always been expected
to lie back and think of England.

I'm not sure thinking of England
has the same effect on a man.

I don't care what he thinks about,
as long as he lies back!

I'll do the rest.

No doubt you would, my lady.

But... are you saying that
right through the marriage there's never been...

What shall we say?

...a stab at it?

Ah.

I've always thought
that sex was rather like a pork pie.

Very dull without seasoning.

Can I ask about your... particular relish?

I'm due at the House of Commons.
Do we have to go into this?

- If it goes to court, what will Lady Maud claim?
- Not much. Nursery games.

- Nursery games?
- Nanny with her tawse, bad boy rebuke.

- Flagellation?
- No.

I went to a first-rate public school.

They bent over backwards to make you
bend over forwards. I want to keep up traditions.

- Does Lady Maud?
- No.

- I told her on our wedding night.
- She was shocked?

No, she beat the hell out of me. They say
my screams were heard the length of the Algarve.

The hotel manager
was ill-mannered enough to complain.

- She could summon witnesses.
- This can't come out in court! I'm an MP!

I'm afraid we'd be very foolish
if we let this get anywhere near a court at all.

Absolute madness
to let this get anywhere near a court at all.

He's only to deny your allegations,
and I can hardly see him admitting them,

and what proof can we show?

I should've thought
my virginity were proof enough!

I hardly see that as "Exhibit A", my lady.

And he could say
that you had denied him his conjugal rights.

- But surely they'd believe ME!
- We can't count on it.

And if he won, you'd lose the house and estate.
The reversionary clause would be null and void.

In your marriage settlement,
you bought the house and estate.

- It cost me a fortune.
- But there was a reversionary clause.

In the event of your death without heirs,
everything was to go to Lady Maud,

as it did if there was misconduct on your part
leading to a divorce.

- You mean nursery games?
- Mm-hm.

That's ridiculous. You mean I'm lumbered
with a wife I can't lose and a house I can't sell?

So the only way the estate reverts to me
is if Giles commits adultery?

Roughly speaking, more or less.

He could die, of course.

But if he commits adultery,

I could divorce him,
keep the estate and marry again?

Quite.

Right. Then we'll have to see what we can do.

Hmm?

Blott...

Do you know how to tap a telephone?

Make water come out of it?

Listen in on calls!

Oh, very simple.
All is needed is some wire and some headphone.

There's an electrical shop just round the corner.
Stop there on the way back, would you?

(RADIO) And now for the traffic report.

Holiday traffic has added to congestion
on all routes to the West Country,

bringing up to ten-mile tailbacks.

On the M4 west of Bristol, the contraflow
system is causing serious delays

and three-mile jams.

Motorists' organisations
are pressing the government for quick action

on the extension of the M399. Meanwhile...

(RADIO OFF)

- Giles, how are you?
- Very well, Minister.

You know my PPS Densher?

Yes, indeed.

You're looking pale.
Spending too much time tied to a desk.

Jog, Giles, jog. You wanted a word?

Yes, it's about the proposed motorway in my
constituency. The M399, the route to the west.

- That's shelved, isn't it?
- Yes, Minister.

We surveyed several routes, but local objections
were so strong, we put everything in store.

Funny things, motorways.

Everyone wants to drive on them,
but no one wants them in their neighbourhood.

- Does that set your mind at rest?
- Not exactly.

Your people may have missed
the best and cheapest route.

- Which?
- Here.

Direct from Sheffingham to Debry.
Straight through the Cleene Gorge.

I suppose it is the obvious route, really.

It does look like it. Densher?

We surveyed it, but it's impossible.

The Cleene Gorge is a designated area
of outstanding natural beauty.

You'd have to demolish a great hall
belonging to the local fat cat.

Yes. Mine, actually.

Oh, that's your little plot, is it, Giles?
Very nice. No wonder you came to object.

Actually, Minister, I didn't come to object.

No? This isn't an objection?

I couldn't support the scheme publicly. Local
feeling would be strong. I'd have to represent it.

- As elected representative, quite.
- But entirely privately.

As an independent individual.

We need the motorway. It would save millions.

I don't see why the splendours of Cleene Gorge
should be the preserve of the happy few.

Make it accessible to the common man.

As for Handyman Hall,
the sooner they knock down that vile hea...

Or rather, let me put it this way.

Handyman Hall can be regarded
as a negative contribution

to the architectural heritage of this country.

Pardon?

If they knocked it down, our architectural
heritage would actually improve.

And there'd be thumping great compensation,
wouldn't there, Giles?

We'd have the little green men all over us.

- What?
- The conservationists, the badger folk.

I hope this government isn't going to let tradition
stand in the way of progress. Or vice versa.

Exactly, Giles.
I think this calls for a public inquiry.

- Find a chairman, Densher.
- Yes, Minister.

What about Lord Leakham?
Fine legal mind, sharp as a...

- Perfect. Shall we go through to lunch, Giles?
- Excellent.

Tell me... how's the wife?

In very good health, thank you.

- All good.
- Excellent, Blott. Is it ready?

- I think it is time to make test.
- Oh, marvellous.

What do we do?

Go to the greenhouse and pick up headpiece
when is ringing the little bell. Understand?

Perfectly, Blott. When is ringing the little bell.

- What will you do?
- I go in the study and make call.

I see all the signs of a military training, Blott.

No, I am just a little ingenious.

(RINGS)

One, two...

(PHONE RINGS)

Hello? Mrs Forthby here.

Oh, hello there. This is Blott.

Blott? Do I... Do I know you?

No.

- Is there anything I can do for you?
- No.

What is it that you want?

Ah...

Ton of pig manure.

- I think you've got the wrong number.
- Yes, I think so.

(LINE GOES DEAD)

(MIMICS TRUMPET MUSIC)

One ton of finest pig manure.

(MIMICS SIR GILES) Please deliver to my
excellent mansion one ton of finest pig manure.

- Excuse me, lady.
- It works perfectly.

I could hear every word.
Who were you talking to?

I don't know. Some number...

"Manure lady."

Blott, you're wonderful.

Now we can find out what he's up to.

- Are you comfortable, Sir G?
- Hmm.

You look it.

Well, now, then... We all know
what happens to naughty garçons, don't we?

Oh, yes, you are, you know you are!

- No!
- Yes.

(DOOR BUZZES)

Look, hang on a minute.
I'll go and see who that is.

Won't be long.

Oh, hello, Marjorie. How nice to see you!
Do come in. Would you like a drink?

I don't think we have time.
The taxi's waiting downstairs.

- Taxi?
- The opera.

- Oh, you hadn't forgotten?
- It completely slipped my mind!

- I'll get the tickets.
- (MUMBLES)

(MUFFLED SHOUTS)

I know! (LAUGHS)

(MUFFLED SHOUTS)

(FRONT DOOR OPENS)

(MUFFLED SHOUTS)

(WATER STARTS RUNNING)

(MUFFLED) Mrs Forthby!

Oh, my goodness, I forgot all about you!

- All right, are we?
- Where in hell have you been?

- "Magic Flute".
- Six hours you've been away!

I've been lying here in agony!

I thought you liked that.

Six hours? No one in their right mind wants to
be strung up like a spring chicken for six hours!

Now, now, now! What have we here?
This is a very naughty boy.

I am not playing, Mrs Forthby. Please untie me!

Quickly!

And pass me my pants.
I've got a division in the House in 20 minutes.

I'm seeing the Minister in the Department
of Environment in the morning. Thank you.

Oh! My leg is unnatural.

I'm sorry. I'm a bit forgetful, ain't I?

I'm just lucky you didn't go off
to the Bahamas on holiday.

- Cheer up, Sir G.
- My trousers!

- I'll be better next time.
- I doubt if there'll be another time, Mrs Forthby.

(MURMUR OF CONVERSATION)

Ah, bless my soul! Guests!

Giles, there you are. I hope you don't mind.
I thought it was time to have some people in.

Good idea. What a good idea!
How nice, Mrs Bullett-Finch! Mr Bullett-Finch.

It's aeons since we set foot in Handyman Hall.
It used to be the honeypot of the neighbourhood.

But one knows how difficult it is
keeping up great houses.

Really, Mrs Bullett-Finch? How?

So, back to the quiet of the country
after a week's toil in,

what did Cobbett call it, the Great Wen?

- You mean London?
- That's the damn place. Can't grow a thing.

- Whereas in the countryside...
- Not talking about your lawn again?

- Evening, General Burnett.
- Ah, Lynchwood, back with us for a bit!

- Been governing?
- Must keep the country shipshape.

Doesn't look in any shape to me! Politicians
are purveyors of confusion and misery!

- I wonder what you do in the evenings there.
- Do you wonder that, too?

- Parliamentary affairs.
- Speak in the House at all?

I made an intervention in the anti-immigration
debate. Maybe you read about it in the "Times".

I was too busy following
that cuckoo from Newcastle.

Excuse me, B-F. Mr Ganglion, how are we?

Well, I was hoping to meet you here, Sir Giles.

Hardly surprising. This is my house.

Yes, exactly. Well, well, that's just the matter.

Erm, is there a little room nearby
where we could be intimate?

- Intimate?
- Have a little talk?

- Good evening, Sir Giles.
- Ah, Miss Percival.

Ah, Miss Percival! Colonel Chapman.

- Not intimate in the other sense.
- The estate looks blooming.

About time you had a shoot.
There was always a shoot at Handyman Hall.

All the Colonel thinks about
is his "bang, bang, bang"!

Just a word man to man
on a rather personal subject.

Isn't it time we told Lynchwood why we're here?

One doesn't like talking about
private sexual practices surrounded by the...

Oh.

- Such bad news.
- It happened while you were away.

We heard the new motorway
will go through Cleene Gorge.

- And through the estate.
- Right over our cottage.

- We've nowhere else to go.
- We're forming a protest committee.

We trust you'll take a leading role?

In fact, if you don't put a stop to this at once,

I promise you now you will not sit
for the next election for South Worfordshire.

Well, if it's true, it's outrageous.

- I shall call for an immediate inquiry.
- I knew you wouldn't let it happen.

It would be such sacrilege.

(GONG BANGS)

Dinner is served now, please.
Go at once to the table.

- We've begun a petition.
- Printed posters.

Later!

Go to the table.

I can only say this proposal is an outrage.

And we must use
every legal channel open to us to resist it.

And I begin by calling for an inquiry.

The price of justice is eternal publicity!

It's not enough to protest
through legal channels.

We must make our protest known.

Let us learn from the Suffragettes
and from CND!

The gorge won't be saved by words.
We need action.

(CHEERING)

(GUNSHOT)

Good God! I thought you were a rabbit!

You'd better get out of here
before the rest of the shoot arrives.

Don't you think?

(BELL RINGS)

The editor of the "Worford Advertiser"?
This is Sir Giles Lynchwood.

As parliamentary representative and resident,

I want to express my outrage at the proposal
to put the motorway through Cleene Gorge.

National Trust? Giles Lynchwood here.

As parliamentary representative for South
Worfordshire, may I express my total horror...

Is that the Director General,
United Nations?

Sir Giles Lynchwood,
MP for South Worfordshire. Hello.

I want to express my utter disgust and outrage...

(MIMICS) Sir Giles Lynchwood here.

Sir... Sir Giles Lynchwood here.

Sir Giles...

Sir Giles Lynchwood here.
Sir Giles Lynchwood here.

I want to express my very much outrage...

my utter outrage about this bad thing.

I shall do my damnedest
to raise the matter in the House.

- Is that you, Giles?
- No. Blott.

- You like it, my pronunciation?
- Was that you? You gave me a start.

This is good. I don't find out anything,
but I learn correct English.

- Don't stop listening. I still don't trust Giles.
- No, lady.

That reminds me.
I must get the TV people to cover the inquiry.

We want the maximum publicity.

(CAR HORN)

♪ We shall not, we shall not be moved

♪ We shall not, we shall not be moved... ♪

Oh, it's you!

- Hello, Bob. How's our motorway?
- We've got your route surveyed.

I hope we're in order for that inquiry. Lady Maud
is stirring up the entire neighbourhood.

- You too, I hear.
- I have to represent my constituents.

(SMACKS LIPS) That woman is going berserk.

She'll get over it. They always do.

You don't have to live with her.
Up half the night making plans, painting posters.

I don't like the way she keeps cleaning
her father's shotgun in the kitchen.

She's dangerous. She took a potshot
at one of our surveyors today.

- Couldn't we have her arrested?
- It'd never stick. Always happens in planning.

She'll pull out all the stops. I'm still
not convinced that inquiry will find for us.

We've got to make it fail-safe, Hoskins.

All right.

- How about the usual?
- The usual?

Remember when you wanted to build
that hideous block of high-rise flats in Shroaton?

We got it through 'cause the alternative
planning proposal was a sewage farm.

Find a totally unacceptable alternative.

A route that no man in his right mind
would accept.

That's it. Which?

- There's always Ottertown.
- Ottertown?

Ten miles out of the way
and you'd have to cut through a council estate.

- Right through the middle?
- Right through the middle.

I think I'll be the first man
to advocate Ottertown.

- You're sure it's totally unacceptable?
- You can bet on it.

- I'll take my fee in advance.
- In that case...

Cash this time. I lost on Imperial Oils.

I'll see you at the inquiry.

The road would go past Hellford.

(UPROAR)

(BANGS GAVEL)

Now, order there!

As the Ministry has attempted
to preserve the natural amenities of the area

to the greatest possible extent...

My arse!

...you'll see our problem.

Right across here we have the Cleene Forest,

an area of designated natural beauty
noted for its wildlife, protected species...

Why is it that the only unprotected species
is the human one?

Order! Order!

Madam, you are trying the court's patience.

My family has held land
in Cleene Gorge since 1472!

It was given to us by King Edward IV.

He designated the Handyman family
custodians of the gorge.

Whatever His Majesty Edward IV
may have done in 1472 has no relevance

to the evidence
being presented by Mr... Hoskins.

Kindly sit down!

Why don't YOU do something?

It's not going well, is it, Ganglion?

My dear lady, I'm not hopeful,
I'm not optimistic at all.

Oh! And that's not going to help!

Sir Francis Puckerington MP, what do you
think of the proposed route through Ottertown?

Well, it's quite out of the, er...
you know, out of the question.

It means demolishing 75 council houses.
And I don't see any inquiries...

I want to make a statement.
I am Lady Maud Lynchwood.

My family have lived in Cleene Gorge
for 500 years.

My grandmother was seduced
by King Edward VII.

Now I am to be evicted from my family home,

thrown God knows where
into what penury and servitude!

I ask the nation
what true English person in all conscience

can stand idly by and see this happen?

- Thank you, Lady Maud.
- I want it on the "Nine O'Clock News".

- I'm not sure...
- You never are, are you? Where's Giles?

He was taking Lord Leakham to
the Four Feathers to put him in mellower mood.

He's gone off with that old fool,
has he, the traitor?

- I'm sure...
- I'm not! Get our supporters together.

Meet me in the Handyman Arms.
I've got to go to the Four Feathers.

Really shouldn't be doing this
at this time of day. Peptic ulcer, you know.

Still, it's been a tiring morning.
Who's that ghastly woman who kept interrupting?

I think I'll have the prawns to start with.

Reminds me of the assizes in Newbury in '28.

A woman there kept jumping up and down
in the dock. What was her name?

Lady Maud. Somewhat outspoken,
with a reputation around here.

Elsie Watson. That's the name.
Poisoned her husband.

Kept shouting abuse from the dock.
Made no difference. Hanged her just the same.

- Ready to order?
- Yes, I think we are.

Extraordinary fellow. Evidently can't distinguish
between an inquiry and a court of law!

And the man behind me...

The man behind me smelled noticeably of pig.

Can't say I see much hope at all.
Decidedly gloomy morning.

Then perhaps we're in for a jolly afternoon.

- You look strangely cheerful.
- It's time to counter-attack.

- How can we? The judge is an ass.
- Your persistent interruptions didn't help us.

I'm not going to take any notice
of that old buffoon!

Leakham is a man of great reputation.

His reputation is only just beginning.
Let's rally our forces.

- But how?
- Yes, how?

This is a Handyman pub. We'll get the public
on our side. Drinks on the house!

Lady Maud says drinks on the house!

Right, 15 more pubs in Worford.
Let's get round them!

One steak for him
and one chicken for that old judge.

Don't bother about that chicken.
The old gent's having "Speciality a la me"!

- It's Lord Leakham. He ordered chicken.
- I've got a special order for him.

- You can't use that!
- He don't own the place. Lady Maud does!

If she wants to poison the bugger,
that's her affair.

Come, come!

Any chance of opening it
and putting in a bit of Tabasco?

I ought to open it at table.
But that Sir Giles, he don't know nothing.

All drinks on Lady Maud in the Cock And Bull!

No to the motorway.

No to the motorway.

No to the motorway.

- Poule au pot Edward IV.
- That's Lord Leakham's.

- Tournedos Handyman.
- Clearly, that must be mine.

- Would you like to try the?
- Just pour it out. The chicken looks good.

- Speciality of the house.
- Really?

Oh, yes, sir.

Thank you.

Eugh! Eugh!

Oh. Something amiss?

What in God's name?
What did you say this was?

"Chambertin '64". Is it corked or something?

- It's certainly something!
- I'll get another bottle. Waiter!

- Bring another bottle. Something wrong with it.
- Isn't it a good 'un?

- No!
- I'm not a great wine buff.

But it seemed to be rather full of dregs.

Does one normally have chilli powder
in chicken here?

Is the poulet off as well? Amazing!

Here, give that to me!

(CHANTING)

(BANGS GAVEL) Silence in court!

Silence!

(SHOUTING)

Clear those people, Officer!

I wish to hear the next witness in quiet!

- I wish to make a statement.
- Sit down, madam.

We are here to take evidence,
not to listen to statements of opinion.

M'lud, my learned judge,

my client's opinions are evidence
germane to this inquiry.

Opinion is not evidence.
Your client, whoever she is...

Is Lady Maud Lynchwood
of Handyman Hall, m'lud.

(CHEERING)

(BANGS GAVEL)

Your client may hold
what opinions she chooses.

But she may not express them as evidence.
I trust you know the rules of evidence?

The rules of evidence, m'lud, do not,

with due deference to your Lordship's opinion,

apply in a public inquiry.

- Who are you?
- My name is Ganglion.

- Of the well-respected firm...
- Sit down!

(DISGRUNTLED MUTTERING)

- Next witness!
- I wish to protest! This inquiry is a travesty!

(CHEERING AND APPLAUSE)

- Silence in court!
- This is not a courtroom!

- It IS a courtroom!
- It is not a court. It's an inquiry!

And you are not fit to conduct it!

Well, I am conducting it, fit or not.
Now, be silent!

You're a senile old fool!

(CHEERING)

I hold you for contempt of court!

Officer, arrest this... woman!

(UPROAR)

This is not a courtroom!

(SHOUTING CONTINUES)

Order in court! Order in court! Order in court!

Order in court! Order in court!

- This is not a courtroom!
- Order in court!

Oh, my God!

I merely wanted to save my house!

Can't somebody help me?

Don't overdo it, Blott!
Let go of the constable's ear!

Constables, you must do your duty!

(SIRENS)

(SIREN)

There you are, sir.

Maud?

Oh!

Ah, you're all right.

Phew, Giles.
Well, I think we made our point, don't you?