All language subtitles for The Green Man 2

(Birdsong)

( # The Sun Has Got His Hat On
playing on radio )

# The sun has got his hat on

# Hip, hip, hip, hooray!

# All the little boys excited,
all the little girls delighted

# What a lot of fun for everyone
sitting in the sun all day...

(Vacuum cleaner whirring)

- Bonjour, Angéline.
- Good morning, Mr Allington.

I always thought you were French. (Laughs )

- Morning, David.
- Morning Mr Allington.

There's a complaint in the message book,
Mr Allington.

- (Maurice ) Not now, David.
- I think it's important.

I think you should see it.

I hope this is going to be worth it, David.

- I think it will be, Mr Allington.
- Excuse me.

Professor Burgess. Well, of course.

I admit the service wasn't all
that it might have been last night...

- Anton threatened to resign last night.
- Why should he do that?

He heard Professor Burgess sounding off
about the service.

Burgess didn't complain
about his cooking, did he?

Anton said he is not prepared to cook good food
for a restaurant where the service is bad.

- What's this?
- What, Mr Allington?

This, this. The writing's almost illegible.

It looks like your writing, Mr Allington.

Why should I write in my...

Hello, yes, could you get me
the number for...

St Matthew's College, Cambridge, please?

Look, try and pacify Anton
when he arrives this morning, would you?

Yes, Mr Allington.

- Good morning, madam.
- Good morning.

Don't I know you from somewhere?

I think you'll find that these eggs
are perfectly scrambled.

- What happened to you last night?
- Oh, I just went downstairs

to cast an eye over the premises.

- And sat up drinking with Nick.
- No, Nick had already gone to bed.

I just don't think he should be encouraged
in this thing, that's all.

Oh, honestly, Nick. Won't you ever admit
that a reality might exist

- beyond the one that we immediately know?
- No, I won't.

Well, I think that if Maurice is experiencing
some kind of transcendent reality,

he should be helped
to come to terms with it.

For Christ's sake, Lou, he's just a bit confused
about not being as young as he once was.

And he's been drinking too much.
That's all there is to it.

You're not gonna make things any easier
if you keep telling him to sit up half the night

waiting to see a sodding ghost.

In fact, you'll probably confuse him a bit more
and tip him over the edge.

You're such a dry old stick, Nick.

- Oh, God, you're so tense.
- Am I?

Mmm. Your neck muscles
are practically seized up. Relax.

- Just let it be, Lucy, eh?
- Shh, relax.

Actually...

I've got to...
I've got to go into Cambridge today.

- Oh?
- Mmm.

To look up some old records
about the house.

Good.

Ah, darling, your breakfast
is gonna get cold.

A girl's got to make the most
of her opportunity.

Hey, hey, darling, I've got to go.
Nick'll be waiting.

- Nick?
- Mm, he's coming with me to Cambridge.

- You're not meeting anyone, are you?
- Not in the sense you mean, no.

This chap Duerinckx-Williams,
he dines here quite a bit.

I'm seeing him, that's all.

- Dad?
- What?

- Are you going to Cambridge?
- Yeah.

- You promised you'd take me.
- I can't, I'm gonna be in a library all day.

- Dad!
- I'll take you tomorrow.

- It's the funeral tomorrow.
- Well, I'll take you soon, I promise.

(Engine starts )

Damn you, Dad.

(Nick) You should have brought her with us.
She's pretty upset about Gramps.

(Maurice ) She'll get over it. Kids that age
put things behind them quite quickly.

(Nick) Do they?
Has she put Mum's death behind her?

(Maurice ) We haven't gone into any of that.
(Nick) You haven't discussed it with her at all?

(Maurice ) I'm more upset about Gramps
than Amy will ever be.

I don't just mean being nicer,
more considerate -

I could have helped him live longer,
stopped taking him on those long walks.

(Nick) He probably have died a lot sooner
if you'd have cooped him up in the house.

(Maurice ) Nick, what I'm saying is,
I feel responsible for his death in some way,

like I still feel responsible
for your mother dying.

- She was knocked over by a car, Dad.
- Maybe she stepped out deliberately.

(Nick) What, with Amy holding her hand?

What's bothering you isn't that you feel
responsible for her death, it's that she died.

It's the same with Gramps,
you can't cope with it.

Reminds you you're gonna go
exactly the same way yourself one day,

- especially the way you drive.
- All right, all right, Nick.

No, it's not all right.

My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;

I doubt some foul play:

would the night were come!

What about Amy?
How do you think she feels?

You try asking a 14-year-old kid

how she feels about seeing her mother
knocked down and killed in front of her eyes.

No, Dad, you try. Just talk to her.

- I do, Nick.
- You don't.

- You know what injaynious means?
- Ingenious?

Injaynious. It's probably
a 17th-century version of the same word.

Well there's the OED over there.

Ah, here we are.

''Underwood, several verses upon occasions

''with part of Philoctetes, an heroical poem

''after the manner of Mr Dryden.''
How utterly dreadful.

Not Underwood, Underhill. Dr Underhill.

A fellow of the college in the 1650s.

Ah...

Mmm. Not here, then.

Very well, we could try ''anonymous'',
but he wrote such a lot.

- You're sure it's a book?
- No, papers.

Thornton says they're not worth a perusal

except by those interested
in the customs of a more barbarous age.

Hmm, must be interesting, then.

You know how scholars always try to keep
the best to themselves.

- (Chuckles )
- Yeah.

We could try ''sundry matters''.

That's the unbound, uncatalogued stuff
in the Hobson Room, over this way.

Ah.

To be frank, some of this stuff
is rather naughty.

You'd be surprised
at what our married dons get up to

when they set down their thoughts.

That's why some of it's filed anonymously.

Aha! Oho!

Can this be?

Thomas Underhill, DD.

Olim sodalis Collegii Omnium Sanctorum,
Universitatis Cantebrigiensis.

- Nothing anonymous about that.
- Could, er... Can I take a look?

Could this be the end of the quest?

This might be what I need.

Well, there you are. Now you're a scholar.

Thanks for all your help.

(Maurice ) ''Conjured up rare shapes,
some consorting carnally. ''

''Eighth of September, 1685.

''My man Gurney on instruction advised me
the girlchild Taylor was come.

''She prettily consenting,
told her of the wonders I could work.

''Bade her sit, gave her a potion,

''also a silver crucifix to hold in her hand.

''Caused her to believe
she heard the sweetest music,

''conjured up rare shapes,
some consorting carnally.

''She convinced to be liberal also
I laid her to the floor.

''O quae deliciae!''

He seems to have acquired the alchemic power
of creating seductive visions.

''I can call spirits from the vasty deep!''

So can I, actually. Time for a Scotch?

Oh, no, I'm all right, thank you.

(Man ) To die; to sleep...
(Professor) So what happened then?

(Maurice ) Well, he, er, charmed her,
he terrified her, then he ravished her.

Afterwards, he threw her out
and told her that if she spoke a word to anyone,

his devils would pursue her
to the grave and beyond.

She returned frequently
for what he calls ''more of my embraces''.

(Whistles ) The old goat.
Did he make a habit of this sort of thing?

Well, yeah, the diary mentions
several other girls, all very young ones.

Any sign of a Mrs Underhill?.

Yes, they quarrelled a great deal, he says.

I'm hardly surprised.

Er, shortly after all this,
she died violently,

apparently torn to bits.

He was suspected,

which is partly the reason
he had such a terrible reputation.

That and his so-called scientific experiments.

So he must have been a bit of a magus,
your man, as well as a lecher.

Oh, yes.

Er...

''Must now cast aside fleshly delights
and all such for the moment

''that I might be master of myself
and the universe.''

Master of himself and the universe?
Not bad, eh? Quite an ambitious fellow.

''And secure for myself such powers
as were never seen since pagan times.''

A sort of fertility rites man, was he?

I don't suppose he left a handy record
of how to do all these things?

Well, maybe. He says,
''Anyone who fully understands my mind

''will find the means to all

''in my most lasting repository.''

- Do you suppose he means our library?
- (Chuckles ) No.

I think his most lasting repository
is somewhere quite different.

- (Maurice ) Have you thought about it?
- Course I've thought about it.

Can't see what I'd get out of it.
Maybe I can.

But I just don't know
what you get out of it, really.

Well, if one's fun won't, er,
two be ten times better?

I take it you'd want...
well, me being nice to Joyce

and Joyce being nice to me.

Well, we're independent people,
we can do what we want.

Meanwhile you'd watch.
That sort of thing?

As long as it, er...
wasn't the only thing I was doing.

I think it's all pretty damn
schoolboyish, Maurice.

Sort of using people for your fantasies,
not treating them as real.

- I treat you as real, don't I?
- I don't know whether you do, Maurice.

By God, I want you.

In summer season when soft was the sun.

O quae deliciae!

What's that?

Just some words in a diary.

(Wings flapping)

(Birds calling)

(Diana ) That was wonderful.

- Better than yesterday?
- Much.

Oh. Wasn't it any good yesterday?

Yesterday was fine,

but today was better.

It was different for me too.
You were different.

Today I knew I really wanted you.

- What's changed?
- Nothing.

- It's just Jack.
- What about Jack?

I hate him. Surely you must know that.

- What's wrong?
- Everything.

This dull village, him screwing his patients.

And we share nothing, Maurice.

Been trying to make up my mind
to leave him for years.

- Have you?
- Maurice, this is most peculiar.

What, what's peculiar?

That you've known Jack and me for three years

and you haven't noticed the absolutely
simple fact that I just can't stand him!

- You haven't? You're not joking?
- No.

Maurice, that is just the most
extraordinary thing I've ever heard.

I thought you were sensitive and observant,
and you're supposed to be interested in me.

- I am interested in you.
- All right, let's do it.

- What?
- Whatever you want. Joyce, anything.

- Will you do something else for me?
- What?

You know the old graveyard
at the back of the church?

There's some buried treasure there.

- You mean in a coffin?
- Mm. It's a very old coffin,

Just a few bones and the treasure.

I want somebody to hold the torch
and help out generally,

and you're the only woman I know
who isn't scared out of her wits...

by unusual requests.

(Diana ) You're afraid, aren't you,
to do it on your own.

I'd like company.

- At night?
- Think so. Don't you?

People don't like seeing graves being dug up
just while they happen to be passing.

There's no curse on it
or anything like that, is there?

Good Lord, no, the fellow was just looking
for a safe place

to stow a few things, that's all.

- When?
- Tonight.

OK.

- The vicar's here.
- The vicar?

- Vicar.
- Ah, aha, there are wines in the back.

Fred, put those in the cellar, would you?

- Yes, Mr Allington.
- (Man ) Ah, Mr Allington.

- Yes?
- Tommy Sonnenschein,

- rector of the parish.
- Oh, hello.

I'm doing the funeral tomorrow,
so I thought I'd call in and offer condolences.

Er, may I have a Bacardi and Coke?

Well, of course. Ice and lemon?

Ooh, yes, please.

I find people often welcome a little chat
at times like this

to settle their minds
about the afterlife, and so on.

Not that I can offer much consolation
on that score, I'm afraid.

Oh? Say when.

That's fine.

Thanks. Are you going to have one?

- Yes, yes, a whisky.
- Good.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Frankly, immortality has been
pretty well done to death, don't you think?

- Well...
- Immortality was thought up

by the Victorians
as part of their guilt thing.

Naturally, after they'd created the evils
of the Industrial Revolution,

they needed a form of new life,
away from the smoke and the stink

and the starving kids.

Oh, by the way I'm so sorry
to hear about your father.

The time has come to put immortality
back into the junk room where it belongs,

along with the Gladstone bags

- and the muttonchop whiskers.
- Nuts?

Er, do you have any Twiglets?

- Fred, any Twiglets?
- Twiglets? Hold on a minute, guv'nor.

Quite frankly, the Jesus of the Gospels

can be a bit of a wet liberal at times.

Maurice, you went into Cambridge
without telling me.

Cambridge? Love it.

Lucy, this is the Reverend Sonnenschein,
who is a Christian

- who doesn't believe in the afterlife.
- Hello.

Did you get to see the diary?
Was it worth the pain of perusal?.

I'll say, yeah.

He used to conjure up spirits

for the delectation of prepubescent girls

and then he raped them.

- What kind of spirits?
- Carnally consorting couples,

amongst other things.

I'm doing some research on
the 17th-century cleric who lived in this house.

He thought he could make himself eternal.

And I shall imagine
he had a great disappointment in store.

Possibly. Though I saw him last night
in the dining room.

You did? Maurice, why didn't you tell me?

- Did you talk to him?
- Oh, yes.

- Did he talk to you?
- Indeed he did.

And this morning,
I found that he'd left a message for me

in the message book.

- Where... Ah, message book.
- Twiglets.

Twiglets! Twiglets.

Oh, thanks. Er, fascinating.

Well, I must rush.

I'll see you tomorrow, er, at the do.

I'm not a Christian, Lucy, but if I were,
I think I'd believe in the afterlife. Don't you?

- What did he write?
- Well...

it's my writing but his words.

''Mr Allington, I'm still injaynious.''
What does that mean?

He's still alive.

We're in room five.
May we have the key, please?

I'm expecting a fax from Baltimore as well.
Thank you very much.

Didn't you just love the brass rubbings?

I loved it all.
I didn't know you could rub brass

without waking up a genie or something.

Of course you can, don't be silly!

(Mrs Klinger) Listen, tomorrow
we're gonna go to the museum.

(Maurice groans contentedly)

(Sighs )

(Fly buzzing)

(Sighs )

(Squeaking)

(Fluttering)

(Squeaking)

(Fluttering)

(Maurice gasps )

- (Yells)
- (Squeaking)

Phew.

Ooh...

Oh...

(Yells) Oh...

(Squeaking)

I'm just going upstairs to get changed.
Would you look after the reception, Sharon?

Certainly.

What are you doing?

Maurice, come on now, what is it?

- I saw something.
- Come on now.

Close the door.

Come on, come on.
Come and sit down.

Hang on.

(Distant thunder)

(Jack) Have you had dreams like this before?
(Maurice ) It was not a dream.

Then I went in there for a bath and...

saw this...this bird flying around.

- Usual sort of bird?
- No.

Still sweating a lot?

- Not today.
- Had the shakes?

Not until this happened.

All right, now, Maurice.
(Clears throat) I...

I want you to understand
that anything you saw like this can't harm you.

I realise it can make you very frightened,

- but that's all it can do to you.
- What do you think it is?

- (Distant thunder)
- Delirium tremens. We can treat it.

Well, what's brought it on?

Emotional strain. Plus drink.

Now listen to me, Maurice,
you need some time off.

David Palmer is a very competent lad,

- and Joyce can manage.
- Of course I can.

There's too much to do here. There's
my father's funeral tomorrow for one thing.

If it's what you say it is, well, can't you just
tide me over, give me some pills.

- I mean, there must be pills
- All right, all right.

I'll send you something over from the surgery.

But let's begin by cutting down
on the source right away, yes?

I don't think I'll ever have another drink.

You can't stop suddenly.
That's a sure way to run into trouble.

In that case, I'd like a large Scotch, please.

Cut your intake by 50% in the first instance.
No more.

And, er, take things as easily as you can.

I want you just to sit here for a while, all right?

Ah, Lucy, good.

Stay with him for a bit, will you?
And try and keep him calm.

Now, you learn your lesson, Maurice.

Herbal tea?

How are you, Maurice?

He thinks all this came out of a bottle, Lucy,
but it didn't.

Dr Underhill's behind all this.

I'm gonna find out what he's up to.

I'm going to follow this through right to the end.

- All right, Lucy?
- Oh, God, Maurice. I don't know.

No, I'm afraid he still isn't back.

Here are the tablets you wanted.
Hello, Nick.

- What's the matter with Maurice?
- He's in trouble this time.

He ought to be in a nursing home.
There you are, Nick.

Make sure he takes three of them right away.

- With water not with Scotch, all right?
- OK, Jack.

- Night, Diana.
- Night.

(Thunder)

- So, will he be all right for tonight?
- What's happening tonight?

He, er...has to see to the restaurant.

Oh.

Well, if Maurice has any sense,
he'll go to bed and stay there.

But the one thing we all know and love about
Maurice is that he doesn't have any sense.

So, who knows?

Anyway, I've got a match to finish
and another patient to see.

Will you be late?

(Knocks on door)

Dad!

- Dad, you're supposed to be resting.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

( # Tears For Fears:: Sowing The Seeds Of Love )

Night.

- Look, Jack's given me these pills.
- Thank you.

Good evening, madam.

- Wash them down with water, Dad.
- Don't fuss, Nick.

(Anton shouting, indistinct)

(All shouting)

- Are you all right, Mr Allington?
- Why not?

Hey, Anton, these carrots are very good.

- Shouldn't you be in the dining room?
- Mrs Allington is doing it.

- She thought you weren't feeling well.
- I'm feeling terrific!

(Thud)

Oh!

(All shouting)

Will somebody clear these plates up?

(Lively chatter, Anton shouting in kitchen )

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Sh, sh, sh.
Three cheers for our cox here.

- Hip, hip...
- (All) Hooray!

- Hip, hip...
- Hooray!

- Hip, hip...
- Hooray! Well done, Cox.

- Are you ready to order?
- Do you have any nonalcoholic wines?

(All jeering)

- My husband doesn't believe in them.
- (Cheering)

(Cheering)

Joyce, could I see you in the office, please?

Would you excuse me a minute?
David, take table three's orders, will you?

Yes, Mrs Allington.

- (Chatter)
- Do you have any mineral water?

- Jack told you to rest.
- Well, I took some pills.

- I, er...I ran into Diana today.
- Where, in Cambridge?

No, no, no, at the post office.
She was looking really great.

Diana always looks great, she has the time to.

She was saying how...how dull
she finds the life here.

- I'm not surprised. Are you?
- And she said that she hates Jack.

- Diana hates Jack?
- That's what she said.

You mean you didn't know?
I knew that the first time we met them.

- Why didn't you tell me?
- It wasn't worth mentioning.

I suppose that's very typical isn't it, Maurice?
You observe but you don't see.

Would you say that Diana got tight at all?.

- Hardly on your scale, darling.
- No, no, but at all.

I mean, what she was saying was
that, er, she thinks you're very sexy.

Ah, so you thought she was tight.
This is quite a conversation for the post office.

I ran her home. That's when I realised
it wasn't just compliments,

she, erm...she had something
particular in mind.

What in mind?

Well, she was saying how dull her life was
and how depressed she got

and what did I think about the idea
of the three of us...

(Mumbles )

- ..having a little romp together.
- A little romp!

Yes, well, I thought it was a joke at first,
but it wasn't.

What she meant was that she thought
it would be nice if the three of us...

Yes, you are feeling better,
aren't you, Maurice?

- And what did you say?
- Well, I said that I'd...

I'd mention it to you.

So what do you think she meant?
That you'd, well...

see to her and then she and I would sort of
see to each other, until you felt like it again,

and then perhaps you could do me one way
and she could do me from another,

then perhaps we could do it all again,
only the other way around,

or else we could divide up different parts
of each other, that kind of thing?

- Something like that.
- All right.

- What?
- Let's do it.

I don't get such a lot of fun from you
as things are, do I, Maurice?

And it might take your mind
off all these ghosts.

Yeah, yeah, it might, yeah.

- So, er, should I arrange...?
- Yes, you arrange what you want.

I've got to arrange two gazpachos,
a parfait of chicken livers

and one croquette d'agneau.

By the way, we don't have
any nonalcoholic wines, do we?

- Certainly not.
- Perhaps we should get some in.

(Squeaking)

( # All drunkenly humming
Memory by Andrew Lloyd Webber)

(Man ) Shut up, guys.

(Humming continues )

(Man ) That's disgusting.

Come on, please.

Settle down, will you?

It's late and it's time to go home.

(All) Oooooh...

(All) # Time to go home,
time to go home... #

(Screaming and cheering)

(Bicycle bells ringing)

Hey, you lot, wait for me!

(Car horn beeps )

(Engine starts )

(Dog barking)

- Are you all right?
- Mm-hm.

(Maurice grunts )

I was worried about you.

- You look really great in that hat.
- Thank you.

(Maurice ) Mmm.

- All set?
- Yes.

Stop waving it about. You'll attract attention.

You're like a schoolboy, Maurice.

Feel like an usherette.

(Owl shrieking)

- Don't you feel scared, Maurice?
- Why should I?

You're really quite brave, aren't you?

- Where's the grave?
- At the back.

- Why did they put him there?
- Because he was a bad lad.

Maurice, do you really think
we ought to be doing this?

Even if you're not a Christian, isn't there a basic
thing about not interfering with the dead?

But he was a bad lad.

Thomas Underhill.

Now, it may be rather boring for a bit.

I think you're mad. (Growls)

(Clock ticking)

(Gasping)

I think I've struck the coffin.

Maurice, what are you gonna have
on your grave?

''Drunk but not forgotten''?

(Owl shrieking)

Shine the torch over here.

Oh, God.

You're not gonna make me
watch this bit, are you?

Keep your eyes closed, but keep the light
in the grave while I'm working.

(Clock ticking)

(Bell tolling)

(Ghostly voice whispering)

Is that it? The treasure?

I suppose so.
There's something inside.

Don't open it now.
Let's put all this stuff back.

You have some awful hobbies, Maurice.

- Well, how's that?
- Pretty dreadful.

Well, it'll be all right.
Nobody comes around here anyway.

- Now, are you gonna open that box you found?
- What, now?

Maurice, I've just spent two horrible hours.

I think you might show me what's in the box.

What is it?

I don't know.

What an ugly little creature.
Is it a charm, or something?

I don't know.

Looks rather pagan, doesn't it?

- Is it supposed to be valuable?
- We'll have to find out.

Where does Joyce think you are now?

Well, if she wakes up,
which she never does,

she'll assume I'm drinking downstairs.

Have you asked her
about our little get-together?

- Yes, she's all for it.
- Really?

Mmm. Whenever it suits us.

So how about tomorrow afternoon?

It's your father's funeral, Maurice.

It'll be over by lunch.

Maurice, all this is making me feel
terribly randy.

Here?

- Now?
- Yes. Here, now.

- (Screams )
- Jesus Christ!

(Creaking)

- Maurice, there's something watching us.
- What? Where?

- There's nothing there.
- It's up there.

- Can't you see it?
- No.

Get me out of here!

Wait.

(Bell tolling)

Man born of a woman
has but a short time to live.

Like a flower,
he blossoms and then withers.

Like a shadow,
he flees and never stays.

In the midst of life, we are in death.

To whom can we turn for help
but to you, Lord,

who art justly angered by our sins?

Lord God, holy and mighty,

holy and immortal,
holy and most merciful saviour,

deliver us from the bitter pains
of eternal death.

You know the secrets of our hearts.
In your mercy, hear our prayer.

Forgive us our sins, and at our last hour
let us not fall away from you.

We have entrusted our brother
George John Allington

to God's merciful keeping,

and we now commit his body to the ground.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,

in sure and certain hope
of the resurrection to eternal life,

through our Lord Jesus Christ,

who died, was buried, and rose again for us.

(Chatter and laughter)

It's not right to have a party
when we've just buried Gramps.

That's what people do, Amy. It shows that life
has to go on even though someone's just died.

Now, you go and eat something,
you look a little pale. Go on.

Was yours a red wine, sir?
There you are.

Now, come on,
eat some of that food now.

Marvellous spread.
I should come here more often.

- Are you all right, Maurice?
- Fine, fine.

Gramps is still with us, you know,
I can feel him.

- Lucy. Do you want a hand, Dad?
- No, no, keeps me occupied.

- Were you white? Or red, I think.
- Red, thank you.

Anything to drink, Vicar?

Do call me Tommy, please.
Actually, I mustn't get too pissed,

I'm off to a rather exciting barbecue
at Newnham this afternoon.

Erm...Just a Bacardi and Pernod, please.

David, Bacardi and Pernod.
Do you want anything in that?

- Sorry?
- Coke, or anything?

Oh, good God, no, just ice.

- And a water for me, please.
- Water, Mr Allington?

Yes, just water with some bubbles.

Er, I must say, Vicar, I did find
the burial service rather moving.

Mm, not bad considering when it was written.

What, a bit too out of line
with current thinking, perhaps?

- Er, white wine, madam? And yours is there.
- Thank you.

Let's face it, it is possible to take
the end of the road a bloody sight too seriously.

Particularly as it's only a part of God's purpose.

God's purpose?

I tell you, there's more fantasy-making around
God's purpose than in any other belief area.

- Bacardi and Pernod, Vicar?
- Oh, thank you.

- Your water, Mr Allington.
- Thank you, David.

Mmm. Hits the spot beautifully.

No. That's the trouble with religion -

it encourages fantasy.

The fact is that death is just
one more part of life.

We settle for it
by the mere act of being born.

What would you say
if I told you that I had evidence

of an individual
who survived death in some form?

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't deal
with the paranormal. I'm a priest.

Your wine, ladies.

Mr Sonnenschein has just been explaining
God's purpose to me.

Well, that sort of thing is bound to
come up occasionally in my line of work.

- Mrs Allington.
- What is God's purpose?

Well, I'd say that God's purpose for us
is to fight greed and injustice

and oppression wherever we find them.

But that's politics, that isn't religion.

To me, it's religion in the truest sense.

Of course, I could be wrong.
It isn't my job to tell people what to think.

But you're a priest,
you're paid to tell people what to think.

I'm sorry, but to me that's rather an
old-fashioned definition of a priest's purpose.

Mr Sonnenschein, don't you think
that the more liberated

and forward-looking
and progressive people become,

the more it's your job
to be just a little bit old-fashioned?

- Well, I...
- Excuse me, Vicar.

- Maurice, we want to talk to you.
- Oh?

We thought four this afternoon
would be a good time.

- A good time?
- For our good time.

- Maurice, you've not forgotten?
- Oh, oh, you mean...

- We thought guest room eight right at the end.
- Right.

You'd better put a booking in the register.
We don't want to be disturbed.

- Right.
- Mr and Mrs...and Mrs Smith.

Right.

(Ghostly voice whispering)

(Whispering continues )

Sprouts, cabbages, garden peas,
they each have a different karma.

I'm not sure
about pickled gherkins though.

- Lucy! Come with me!
- What?

Maurice!

I want you to see this.

''I will await thee in my parlour
at twelve of the clock,

''the night following thy discovery.

''See thou art alone
and have our small friend of silver with thee.''

- Where did this come from?
- It came from Dr Underhill.

it wasn't in the computer last night.

- What's the silver friend?
- This.

- Where did that come from?
- His grave.

- He wants to meet you.
- I know.

- This is getting dangerous.
- I know.

- (Bell dings )
- Well, I must be making tracks

off to the Newnham barbecue.
A priest's work is never done. (Chuckles )

Well, see you sometime.

Maybe even in church! (Chuckles )