All language subtitles for The Singing Detective E01 Skin

(HARMONICA PLAYS)

(MAN) The doorman of a nightclub
can always pretend

that it's lipstick
and not blood on his hands.

But how did it get there?

Let's be economical. Nothing fancy.

If he'd smacked some dame
across her shiny mouth,

then he's got both answers in one.

(BLUESY TUNE)

(FOOTSTEPS)

(PLAYS ''DEUTSCHLAND-LIED'')

Gawd bless you.

Gawd bless ya, guv! Gawd bless ya!

Cockles of me. Real gent, y'are!

(UPPER-CLASS VOICE)
Ah, thank you, sir.

Jolly well done, old fruit.

(MAN) And so the man
went down the hole like Alice.

But there were no bunny rabbits
down there.

It wasn't that sort of hole.
It was a rat-hole.

# I've got you under my skin

# I've got you... #

(MAN) Into the rat-hole.
Down, down, down.

The one thing you don't do
in one of those

is to underestimate the rats
in residence.

No, sir.
The way those creatures nibble

and gnaw at your soft underbelly
can do a lot of damage to your nerves.

Your tea, Mr Tomkey!

Teatime! Come along.

Come along. No more nodding off now.

Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

You can't expect to sleep at night
if you do so in the afternoon.

Let's try not to spill it today.
Ah-ah.

Now, now.
You're not helping, are you?

Will you kindly
take a look at that trolley?

Just look at it, Reginald.
Stopped again.

It's worse than a No. 11 bus.
And why has it stopped?

So that gaga old bugger
can spill his tea down his pyjamas.

The tea, Reginald,
will be cold, my boy, won't it?

- Won't it?
- What's that, Mr Hall?

- The tea.
- Oh, yeah. It'll be cold.

(MAN) No, sir. The way those
creatures gnaw and nibble

can do a lot of damage
to your nerves.

Full stop. New paragraph.

But there's one thing
you've got to admit. Full stop.

A rat always knows
where its tail is.

A rat always knows
where its tail is,

but when Mark Binney
entered Skinskape's,

he might as well never have
learned the difference

between his tail and his elbow.

(DOUBLE BASS PLAYS)

(CLEARS THROAT)

Good evening, sir.

What's your poison? What'll it be?

Oh! God!

Concentrate. Concentrate.

Evening, sir. What's your poison?

- What'll it be?
- Well, company for a start.

It's early yet, sir. But you're first,
so you'll have the pick.

- But of what?
- The apples on the bough, sir.

- What do you drink, sir?
- Scotch and soda.

Just the stuff, eh?
And for the young lady?

What?

- Hello, sugar.
- Oh, well, hello, yourself...sugar.

- What would you like...?
- Champagne, toots.

Ah, yes. Of course.

Sugar.

Toots.

Hey, back in time for the tea party.

Bed 11... Bed 11... Bed 11...

Bed 11, it's a way up from heaven.

Here we go.

You reach?

- Stand up, hmm?
- Can't.

- Bed 11. You home now.
- Can't. Can't get up.

OK. Let's be locking these wheels,
then, low-roller.

(GASPS)

(TUTS) OK.

- Let's get this nightie off.
- Draw the curtains.

- Ah-ah. We're all boys together.
- Draw the bloody curtains!

Rass!

(MR HALL) Enough to put you off your
bread and jam, if they gave you any.

Poor sod.

We all suffer, Reginald. Some of us
choose not to show it, that's all.

- (NURSE) Teatime!
- That's why we're penalised.

(PORTER) You OK? You want any help?

You OK?

Enough to put you off your bread
and jam if they gave you any.

Sugar.

Poor sod.

Toots.

Rass, man!

# I've got you under my skin

# Deep in the heart of me #

Bastards!

I'll wipe you out!

Don't you know who I am?
I'm the...

(SCOFFS)

I'm the Singing Detective.

(LAUGHS)

(STRAINS)

Right.

Come on...

Come on. Oh!

Come on!

Jesus. Help me.

- Tea, Ali.
- Tea. No bread. No cake. Tea.

Please.

- Tea. No bread. No cake. Tea.
- Please.

- What?
- Say ''please'', Ali. Not ''what''.

- ''Please'', thank you very much.
- Tea. Thank you very much.

- ''Tea, PLEASE.''
- Tea, please. Thank you very much.

There's a good chap.

Tea. No bloody bread. No bloody cake.

Tea.

Mr...? Mr Marlow,
what are we trying to do?

We've got to stop doing this.

Why? Why is it
that when you lose your health,

the entire medical profession
takes it as axiomatic

you've also lost your mind?

Now, now. We'll have none of that.
Here we go.

Now, what were you trying to do, hmm?

- It was rather silly-billy.
- I was trying to get my pyjama top.

- My sodding bloody buggering...
- Mr Marlow!

My ickle jacket, please.
I want my closey-woseys.

Really.

- (NURSE) Come along.
- (MARLOW GROANS)

Come on. You're not helping me.

Reginald, are we going to do
anything or just accept it?

- What?
- What I'm talking about is justice.

- Justice, Reginald.
- Yeah.

Cold tea never did anybody any harm -
at least, I don't suppose so -

but injustice, that's another matter.

- Injustice eats at your insides.
- Teatime!

She should turn right
every other time, that ugly nurse.

God, she is ugly. Don't you think
she's one of the ugliest, meanest,

nastiest bitches
ever to walk the earth, eh?

- Eh?
- What?

Why don't you move your bed?

- What for?
- Next to that bloody Paki. Go on.

- No, thanks.
- Well, you're no company, are you?

No bloody company!
Always got your snout in a book.

- Nose, Mr Hall. This is a nose.
- And it's always in a book!

I might as well be stuck
in the desert.

Living hell, that's what this is.

A living hell.

How are we, Mr Hall? Ready for tea?

The would be very nice, Staff Nurse.
Thank you very much. Oh, cakie!

He thinks
you should turn right sometimes.

- What?
- No, no, no.

Just sharing a little repartee
with my young friend.

- He says something should be done.
- Shut your mouth, Reginald.

By the time you get here,
it's cold or stewed to buggery.

- Language, Mr Dibbs.
- Very welcome you are in this bed,

whichever way you turn.

(REGINALD SNIGGERS)

(WOMAN) I'm not a tart.
A girl's got to live, ain't she?

(WOMAN) Hello, sugar.
(MAN) Hello, yourself...sugar.

- Would you like...?
- Champagne, toots.

Oh, yes. Of course...

Of course...

Of course...

(MOANS)

Oh, God!

Cigarette. I want a cigarette.

Cigarette, sugar? Toots?

Faggy-waggy, nursey.

Ali. Ali!

- What do you want?
- Get my cigarettes for me, will you?

- Please.
- What?

Say ''please'', not ''what'',
thank you very much.

Oh, for Christ's sake!

- No cigarettes.
- All right, then - please.

Please...you bastard.

Doctor say if something wrong here
and you bloody smoking cigarettes,

there's something wrong here as well.

- No cigarette.
- That's you heart patients, nig-nog!

I'm skin, Ali. Skin.
How many more times?

I must stay in bed.

Doctor say, ''Stay in bed, nig-nog!''

(LAUGHS)

He said that? The doctor said that?

Ah, I've seen you padding about
half the night, you sly old sod.

- Talking to Allah or somebody.
- Oh, no. Bloody God, no.

Look, Ali, don't be a hypocrite.
I'm dying for a cigarette.

Love your little brown chops.

OK, OK. Bloody dog, me.

They keep putting them on my locker.
''Tidying my trolley.''

All morons with a mania for order

put everything you want
where you can't get it.

Do you know how many ''O'' levels
you have to fail to be a nurse?

Blessings on your head, old son.

No bloody flame.

Conviction. Do it with conviction!

Oh, my God.

(LAUGHS) Turn it down!
The wheel! The little wheel, Ali.

Good.

I could see the headlines -
''Another Asian Burnt to Death.''

No. That wouldn't
make the headlines any more.

Not now the National Front
are investing in tandoori ovens.

- Good?
- Good? It's bloody marvellous!

All my hopes and desires
and fondest aspirations

have finally been reduced
to their true dimensions, my old son.

Yes. Your lungs.

Look at that blue smoke, Ali.

See the way it coils and drifts...

just like every human hope.

Yes, yes. Very bloody wise.

I used to think that all I wanted was
the good opinion of honourable men

and the ungrudging love
of beautiful women.

Now I know that all I really want
is a cigarette.

- Just one more cigarette, Ali.
- Poison. It's poison.

One thing about this place,
it strips away the unimportant stuff,

like skin, like love, like loyalty,
like passion and belief...

Oh!

Oi! I know I'm boring,
but surely not that much!

Were you out of bed? Excuse me.
I said, were you out of bed?

- No, Doctor Finlay, sir. No.
- Yes, you jolly well were!

- What is the point of my...?
- It's my fault.

- Oh?
- I asked him to get me a cigarette.

You shouldn't. And he shouldn't.
You're taking advantage of him.

- In any case, you shouldn't smoke.
- You're not MY doctor. Thank God.

Whether I am or not, don't encourage
this man to get out of bed.

- You're being selfish.
- Listen...

- You're putting his health at risk.
- Look here...

- If he dies, you'll be responsible.
- It'll be one less, then, won't it?

- What are you talking about?
- Immigrants, sunshine.

- Are you having trouble with him?
- Yes, sir. I am, Doctor. Please.

Has he been making offensive remarks
about your origins?

- Sorry. Origins, please?
- Your, er...race or...?

- Sorry. Race, please?
- Yes. Your race.

Go on. Tell him, you brown bugger!

(BOTH LAUGH)

(PAGER BEEPS)

Jumped up little snot. Go on.
You get out of bed, Ali, old pal.

- No, no.
- Well, why not? What's the point?

Why endure one moment more
than you have to?

Go on, get of bed. Jump up and down.

Then hold a pillow over my face,
and we'll go together. Come on.

At first, comma,

the only sound is the slap hyphen
slap of the water

against the boat, comma,

which has its engine switched off.
Double space.

The other, comma, natural noises
increase

as the naked, drowned body
of a beautiful woman is slowly pulled...

What are you talking about,
Mr Marlow?

I had on my best pyjamas,
the ones with blue forget-me-nots.

I was all dressed up.
A million dollars was about to call.

- I was ready for it.
- High temperature again, have we?

When she moved her lips like that,

I felt like a tulip when
the first raindrop smacked into it.

I decided to open up.
Boy, was I green...or do I mean wet?

- Oh, I see.
- Your eyes are not for seeing,

they're for being looked at.

We're in a good mood.
We're actually talking today.

What do you mean?

According to the report, you didn't say
one word yesterday. Not for the first time.

- Me?
- Yes, you.

They put that sort of thing
on report?

Oh, yes. Everything.

- Is that why they...?
- Go on, ask.

Is that why they think
I'm a bit touched? Loopy?

- No!
- What, then?

- Depressed.
- Tranquillisers.

No, worse - those antidepressants.

Brain-drainers. Is that why
they try to make me swallow them?

- If they help people...
- I'm not taking them!

I've got thinking to do. If I don't
think, I'll never get out. I'll...

- Are you going to grease me?
- If you're ready.

Ready as a back-axle.

- Nurse? Nurse?
- What is it, Mr Hall?

Could you spare a moment,
Nurse, here?

- No. Tell me.
- Nurse, please.

(WHISPERS)
Could you come here, please?

You're going to wear us out,
aren't you?

Now, what is it?

Beg pardon, my dear. I need
the, er...you know...very badly.

- The...contraption. You know.
- Contraption? What contraption?

Tuppence. I want to spend tuppence.

Reginald, would you get a bedpan
for Mr Hall and close his curtains?

Got the shits again, Pop?

Bit like being in a tent in here,
isn't it, with the curtains shut?

Yeah. And the desert all around.

- Shall I do the top or bottom first?
- I don't mind.

- Still can't get your pyjamas off?
- No.

All right.
I'll start down below first.

Right, let's get these trousers off.

I'll try not to hurt. Up you come.

(GRUNTS)

- Thanks.
- All right.

Relax. We can start now.

(THINKS) Oh, cock, do not crow.

Poor cock, do not stir.

I'll be as gentle as I can.

Think of something boring,
for Christ's sake.

Think of something very, very boring.

A speech... A speech by Ted Heath.

A sentence, a long sentence,
from Bernard Levin.

A quiz by Christopher Booker. Oh!

No, no.
Think. Think. Think. Really boring.

A Welsh male-voice choir.
Everything in ''Punch''...

- Oh!
- Oh, you poor thing.

Oh! Wage rates in Peru.
James Burke. ''Finnegan's Wake''.

All the bloody Irish.
The dog in ''Blue Peter''.

Brian Clough and especially James -
Henry and Clive.

Australian barmen,
ecologists, semiologists...

Think! Think! The Guardian
woman's page... Oh, dear Christ!

The Bible... Oh, God...
Reader's Digest Special Draw.

No, no, no... Think Bible...

Bible Psalms. Song of Solomon.
''Thy breasts are like... '' No! No!

(GROANS)

- Oh, I'm sorry. Is that too hard?
- Too hard? Yes.

It's... It's like iodine in a cut.

I'm sorry, but it's worst of all
inside your thighs.

- I'm being as gentle as I can.
- It's not your fault.

I have to lift your penis
to grease around it.

# My mama done told me

# When I was in pigtails

# My mama done told me how

# A man's gonna sweet talk

# And give you the big eye

# But when sweet talking's done

# A man is a two-faced
worrisome thing... #

She's a real corker, Carlotta.
I mean, genuinely artistic.

- Top-hole.
- And it's right, too.

- What a girl should be told.
- I'm sorry?

Well, a guy can get excited,
can't he?

- You're telling me.
- It's all fizz.

- He'll promise the earth...
- You're not eating, Amanda.

No. Well, one can only consume
so much, you know?

Where do they get this meat?
Real steak.

I haven't seen it since before the war.
Six long years of Spam.

Ask no questions, I'll tell no lies.

Still, is it legal? Or is it horse?

- What's up, sugar?
- I need the gents.

- Oh, what? Now?
- She's nearly done.

- And I've heard the song.
- Know where it is, sugar?

I'll find it...toots.

# ..in the night #

(APPLAUSE)

I have to lift your penis now
to grease around it.

(MARLOW) I'm sorry, Nurse.
I do beg your pardon.

It's the one part of me
that still sort of functions.

- I do beg your pardon.
- It's all right. I understand.

- It has a will of its own.
- We don't need to talk about it.

No.

- How long have you had this?
- Twenty, thirty years.

- As bad as this?
- No. It's at its peak now, almost.

I'm losing control
of my body temperature.

- I keep going over the top.
- Yes.

I think... I think I tend
to hallucinate a bit.

That happens.

I thought there was a cat in the bed
this morning - in it, not on it -

meticulously chewing off my toes,
one by one.

(GASPS)

I'm trying not to hurt you.

Sometimes these hallucinations
are better than the real thing.

People can sing in them or dance.
I don't mind. I like pictures.

You write detective stories,
don't you?

- Who told you that?
- Oh, a little bird.

Well, the little bird is wrong.
I used to.

- Hey.
- Got to work.

- Sorry.
- I've got to work.

A man's got to work.
Somehow, I've got to work.

Hey, now...

(CHUCKLES) You'd think my mother
would have had more sense

than to call me Philip
with a name like Marlow.

Philip Marlow. It hasn't got an ''E''
on the end, but it sounds the same.

- Same as what?
- Philip Marlowe.

You've heard of him surely?

Christ Almighty.

What else could I have done
except write detective stories?

She should have
called me Christopher.

I don't suppose
you've heard of him either.

This way?

Thank you.

I'm so sorry, ladies.
Looking for the gents.

Gawd bless ya, guv.
Real gent, y'are.

Goodbye, old fruit.

(MUMBLES) Why is it so hot?

On the...

On the sunny...

# On the sunny side of the street

# Grab your coat
and grab your hat... #

(BAND PLAYS
''ON THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET'')

Find it all right?

- Er, yes. I found it all right.
- What's up, sugar?

It's hot in here. Baking.

- I feel as if I'm burning up.
- God. You're dripping.

That shows
a passionate nature, sugar.

And what about you?

You seem very cool to me.

Only when I'm upright.

Not another bottle?!

You have to keep coughing up if you
want my company. Ain't I worth it?

- No need to drink it, though.
- What? At P2 1O/- a bottle?

- Mark... It is Mark?
- As in the second gospel.

- What do you mean?
- Never mind.

Mark, this is my friend Sonia.

(FOREIGN ACCENT) Hello.

- Sonia likes a tip, Mark.
- Oh.

Thank you.

Well, let's hope I get
something back for all this.

- That all depends, don't it?
- On what?

On what you mean.

I'm sorry. It's awfully hot in here.

Why am I so hot?

(WOMAN SHOUTS)
Philip! Philip! Philip!

(THINKS) Hot...

Hot...

Why is it so hot?

Good morning.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Good morning to you. Let me see.
You are Mr...?

- Marlow, sir.
- Of course. How are you feeling?

- Er... Not very...
- Very inflamed. Extensive lesions.

- Temperature still too high.
- Marked arthrosis.

Difficult. Difficult.

How long have you had
this psoriatic arthropathy?

- Um, twenty....
- Twenty-five years.

How much movement in the joints?

He's had hydrocortisone injections
in all major joints, including toes.

Tootsie-wootsies, eh?

Prednisone and then Prednisolone
in bursts, then for longer periods,

but with Betnovate and Dermovate
under total occlusive dressings.

Well, you can see the damage.

Latterly, with such occlusions,
one might have to describe it as...

Iatrogenic.

Hmm... History?

Um, prior to this,
pretty usual sequence of events.

Precise. Be precise!

Initially, coal tar,
but then injections -

Butazolidin, Indomethacin,
not successful -

The short courses, Prednisone,
Prednisolone, lengthening.

Then Methotrexate,
after a positive liver biopsy...

- Vomiting?
- Vomiting.

- Finally withdrawn.
- Ten years of occlusive dressings,

corticosteroid ointments each night.

- Razoxane.
- Also cytotoxic.

Which induced neutropenia.
Wart-like lesions removed. Withdrawn.

Hmm...

I've seen cases as bad as this
in Baltimore. Not many.

Will you try one of the retinoids?

Mmm...

- I would have said so.
- Worth a try.

- Hmm...
- Er... Excuse me.

This hyperventilation. Any odd
thoughts in the brain box, old chap?

On Tuesday, he insisted
a cat was chewing at his feet.

- Isn't that so?
- Yes. Attacking his toes.

Tootsie-wootsies, hmm?

- We don't allow cats in the ward.
- Quite so. Quite so.

Well, now. There's one other drug
which might be some help, Mr, er...

- Marlow.
- How do you feel

about trying one
of the new retinoids, hmm?

Do you understand the question?

Er, no. I don't think so.

Would you like to try
one of the new...

I don't understand
because I've regressed

into a helpless and pathetic
condition of total dependency

of a kind normally associated
with infancy.

- What's he say?
- The last time I experienced this

was in my bloody pram, being drooled
over by slobbering cretins...

- Mr Marlow!
- ..who'd escaped from the loony bin.

They thought
they were doctors and nurses!

(ALL LAUGH)

Oh, very good.

Tell me, what do you do
for a living, Mr, er...?

Forgive me. What USED you to do
by way of earning a crust?

- I'm an author.
- Oh. I didn't realise.

- Detective stories.
- Oh. How interesting.

Will you listen to me, please?
Will you please, please, listen to me?

Well, what is it?

I can't talk to you
lying flat out like this.

Can you prop me up, please?

(WAILS)

Thank you.

(CONSULTANT)
What is it you wish to say?

I just think that... Listen...
Just listen to me...

I... I've reached the end...

- Oh. Of what?
- My tether.

(SISTER) Oh, hush now.

I'd like... Christ, I'd...
I'd like to get out of it.

I can't stand... I...
Truly, I cannot stand it.

I can't...get on top of it.

I can't see clear of it.
I can't...find my way through it.

And if I don't admit it,
I'll never, never beat it,

I'll never, never...

(SOBS)

Oh, tears. Even bloody tears...

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
The shame of this...

Even tears, oozing bloody tears,
hurt the skin on my face, and...

(LAUGHS)

Laugh? It hurts my jaw.
God! Talk about the Book of Job.

I'm a prisoner
inside my own skin and bones.

(SOBS)

- (SIGHS) Librium.
- Valium.

- Antidepressants.
- And a barbiturate.

- Barbiturate!
- Antidepressants!

- Valium!
- And Librium!

# Ezekiel cried, ''Dem dry bones!''

# Ezekiel cried, ''Dem dry bones!''

# Ezekiel cried, ''Dem dry bones!''

# Now hear the word of the Lord!

# Ezekiel connected dem dry bones

# Ezekiel connected dem dry bones

# Ezekiel connected dem dry bones

# Now hear the word of the Lord

# And your toe bone connected
to your foot bone

# Your foot bone connected
to your heel bone

# Your heel bone connected
to your ankle bone

# Your ankle bone connected
to your leg bone

# Your leg bone connected
to your knee bone

# Your knee bone connected
to your thigh bone

# Your thigh bone connected
to your hip bone

# Your hip bone connected
to your back bone

# Your back bone connected
to your shoulder bone

# Your shoulder bone
connected to your neck bone

# Your neck bone
connected to your head bone

# Now hear the word of the Lord!

# Dem bones,
dem bones gonna walk around

# Dem bones, dem bones gonna...

# Dem bones,
dem bones gonna walk around

# Now hear the word of the Lord!

# Disconnect dem bones,
dem dry bones

# Disconnect dem bones,
dem dry bones

# Disconnect dem bones,
dem dry bones

# Now hear the word of the Lord!

# Your head bone
connected from your neck bone

# Your neck bone
connected from your shoulder bone

# Your shoulder bone
connected from your back bone

# Your back bone
connected from your hip bone

# Your hip bone
connected from your thigh bone

# Your thigh bone
connected from your knee bone

# Your knee bone
connected from your leg bone

# Your leg bone
connected from your ankle bone

# Your ankle bone connected
from your heel bone... #

(WOMAN SHOUTS)
Philip! Philip, come back, Philip!

# Now hear the word of the Lord!

# Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones

# Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones

# Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones

- # Now hear the word of the Lord!
- # Oooh!

- # Yes, Lord!
- # Hallelujah!

# Amen!

# Now hear the word of the Lord! #

Would you like to see the padre?
Would that help at all?

- Or a psychiatrist.
- Looks like it to me.

Hmm... Good day to you.

Keep your pecker up, old chap.

(BIRDS TWITTER)

(MAN CALLS) Philip!
Come on, old buddy.

Where bist, Philip?

Philip? Come th'on, old buddy.

Philip?

(ALI) Hey? Hey?

Hey? Hey?

- Sorry. What?
- He say when you go?

- What?
- Go out.

Oh, for Christ's sake, Ali.

- Out. Out of this bloody place!
- Where to, old mate?

There's no place else to go.
Besides, I like it here.

- I'm never going to leave.
- Oh, shut up.

You've forgotten what it's like
in the real world, Ali.

Listen. Listen to me.
It's not safe out there.

They chew each other up out there.

(SIGHS) Get me one of my cigarettes,
would you, Ali? There's a pal.

Ali!

Ali!

I want a cigarette.

There is nothing I can think of
which I want more.

Ali!

A smoke.

A length of ash slowly building.

A tube of delight.

Oh, blessed nicotine.

Hot.

Why's it so hot in here?

Gawd. You're dripping.

That shows
a passionate nature, sugar.

(JAZZ)

I'm not a tart.

But a girl's got to live, ain't she?
Put a figure on it.

- A round one?
- Around one what?

A nice round figure.

- Ten pounds.
- Oh, odd ones is better, sugar.

- Sorry?
- Fifteen, sugar.

- This is a very expensive evening.
- I'm not being greedy.

- It's not for lickle me.
- Who's it for? Your sick mother.

I thought you was a nice guy.
I thought this was going to be nice.

- I'm used to pigs at the trough...
- All right, fifteen.

Let's hope you're worth it.

Oh, I'm good.

I'm very very wizard.

About the only thing
I am good at - bed.

Mark, this is my friend Sonia.

Hello.

Well, let's hope I get...

- Let's hope I get...
- That you get something back?

- You know what I mean.
- We can't leave with customers.

- No.
- Sonia don't talk much, do she?

- Why should she?
- She's from Russia.

- She's only been here a few months.
- Really? From where in Russia?

Leningrad.

(SPEAKS RUSSIAN)

(REPLIES IN RUSSIAN)

Here, what are you two jabbering?

Your Russian, it is not bad.
Not good.

Well, it's a long time
since I've used it.

You can order champagne for Sonia,
too. They let you do that.

- They?
- I get commission.

Ah, and what do I get?

Guess.

(CONSULTANT)
Would you like to see the padre?

- Would that help at all?
- Or a psychiatrist?

(BINNEY) What do I get?

(SONIA) Guess.

(CONSULTANT) Would you like
to see the padre? Would that help?

Or a psychiatrist?

Perhaps.

(TICKING)

(MARLOW) The captain is asleep.

We are drifting off
unanchored into the dark.

We are lost. All of us. Lost.

Stop it. Bloody rubbish.

Mabel.

What's going on? What are you...?
Oh, God! What are you doing?

- Where you been, Mabel, eh?
- What are you doing?!

- What are you...?! Get off!
- Where you been, eh?

- Come on.
- (MARLOW) My God!

- Where've you been, Mabel, eh?
- Get off! Ah! God! Get off!

What's going on? Stop that!
Stay in your own beds!

- Nurse!
- Oh! You naughty boys!

Help me! Help me!

Get off! Get off, you silly sod!

- You dirty old devil!
- Nurse!

Nurse! Oh, God! Nurse!

Nurse! Nurse! Get off!

(LAUGHTER)

Bloody beds.

(MOCKING LAUGHTER)

(MARLOW) It was cold waiting
for Amanda to come out.

The air was like an Eskimo's
mother-in-law...bitter and icy.

But not as icy as the heart
which beat under his cashmere coat.

He intended to warm himself
on her overpriced flesh.

Work and pleasure,
and a kiss before dying.

Binney stared. He did not expect
to see the two of them together.

What was cooking?

Hello, sugar.
Ain't you got a taxi yet?

None around.
It is half past three in the morning.

There'll be one. There's always
a taxi. My momma done told me.

I see. A magician, are you?

- A wizard. I told you.
- Are you...?

You don't mind
if we give my friend a lift.

Well...

- Where to, guv?
- Shall we drop you off first, Sonia?

(MARLOW) He wondered whether Amanda
was as dumb as she sounded.

You can't tell what a dame's up to
when she flaps her eyelashes.

- Good afternoon. How are we today?
- I'm not very well.

- I don't know about him.
- Sorry?

- Or perhaps you mean you?
- I don't follow.

You said, ''How are WE today?''
I wondered who the others or other...

- Come, come. A manner of speaking.
- And a very tedious one, too.

Not feeling too great?
Well, that's not surprising.

You're having a tough time.

Look, I'm impressed by your
astonishing powers of deduction,

which surpass even those
of the great Holmes himself...

- Now, now.
- ..but I am trying to work.

- Work?
- Do you think writing isn't work?

- No. Of course not.
- Or do you labour under the delusion

that it consists solely and entirely
of putting words on a page

without thought, without planning...

as if I were a Sunday Times
journalist.

- Ah, I see what you mean.
- Do you, now?

It must be hellishly ticklish

to work out a plot
in a detective story.

I suppose you have to scatter clues
all over the place.

- Yeah. Like throwing grit to hens.
- I'd like to read one of your...

Out of print, all of them.
And why not?

The hens wouldn't lay,
the cock wouldn't crow.

- I see.
- For Christ's sake.

For Christ's sake!

Mr Marlow, do you think you have
the right attitude towards your illness?

Do you? I mean, that's the really
interesting question. Your attitude.

Partly, yes.
But you should also consider...

- Will I ever be free of it?
- Well, that's something...

Will I ever be able to move properly?

Will I ever be able
to hold a pen again? Tell me that.

Come on. Never mind the blather.
I can get that from a doctor, Doctor.

You ask as though someone else
was responsible for your condition,

but no one is, or at least,
in the unlikely event that anyone is,

then that someone cannot be
anyone other than yourself, can it?

Oh, what are you talking about?
It's not your job to be cryptic.

I have occasionally seen patients
who are just as bad,

sometimes worse than you are,

but it's fair to say that none of them
reacts with such aggression...

- What do they do? Sing madrigals?
- They don't rail against the world

or behave like they've fallen
into a sewer.

Are you trying to say
I should take the tranquillizers?

Or is it a deodorant
you've got in mind?

I think you should take
the tranquillizers for a while.

- No! I won't!
- That's up to you.

No one's going to ram them
down your throat.

But where are you going
to find any equanimity?

What?

It's an embarrassing question,
even between husbands and wives,

but what do you believe in?

- Malthusianism.
- Come again?

Malthus, but mandatorily.

Compulsory depopulation
by infanticide, suicide, genocide

or whatever other means
suggest themselves.

AIDS. That'll do.
Why should queers be so special?

- I see.
- I also believe in cigarettes,

cholesterol, alcohol,

carbon monoxide,
masturbation, the Arts Council,

nuclear weapons, the Daily Telegraph

and not properly labelling
fatal poisons,

but above all else,
I believe in the one thing

that can come out
of people's mouths - vomit.

(SIGHS)

I want you to think carefully
about what I'm going to say.

There's a very good man
at the hospital.

Very alert and sympathetic.
I'd like you to talk to him.

What? Alert and what?
What are you talking about?

- Who is he? He'll get struck off.
- Dr Gibbon.

Doctor of what?
Skin? Joints? Monkeys?

The decline and fall
of the Roman Empire?

What's he got to be alert
and sympathetic about?

He's a...
Well, he's a psychotherapist.

- Very good man. You'd get on with him.
- Get stuffed!

Y-You are out of order.

- I won't be spoken to in this way.
- Then F-U-C-- off, sir.

We will speak again. Good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

Hey.

Hey!

Hey.

What do you want?
How are things in Gloccamora?

- He say when you go?
- Christ Almighty. Where? Handsworth?

Didn't he say when?
When you go out, hey?

We're never getting out. This is
our home on the range, old pal.

Well, the hotplate, anyway.

Don't talk rubbish. We are.

We are. Any bloody time now.

Yeah, we will, one day.

Arm-in-arm, together, eh?
Like Alcock and Brown.

You can be Brown.

We're never going to get out
of this bloody place.

- You're right. Never!
- Yes, we are, Ali.

Come on.
We'll break a popadom together.

I promise you that, Ali. I promise.

Hey! Hey!

Christ. What is it now?
Call the Samaritans, would you?

- You want sweet?
- How about sour?

- That's more my line.
- You want sweet?

No, thanks, Ali. My jaws hurt.
Thanks, Ali. Thanks all the same.

Some other time, eh, sweetheart?

You have sweet.
I have a lot of sweets.

You have sweet, I have sweet,
and we say up the arse, eh?

Yeah. Up the arse.

(WHEEZES)

Ali?

Ali?

Ali!

Ali!

Ali!

God! Nurse!

Nurse!

Nurse?

Ali? Ali? Call 199.

Hurry!

(SISTER) Plug that in.
Get that headboard off.

I'll take over. Put his arms down.

(DOCTOR) Thank you, Nurse.

Please set up a drip.

(2nd DOCTOR) What's the rhythm?
Give me the paddles.

(DOCTOR) Set it for 2O.

Stand clear, everyone.

Give me 4O.

Stand clear, everyone.

(2nd DOCTOR) Set up a drip.
Give me the adrenalin.

(DOCTOR) One last try.
Stand clear, everyone.

(NURSE)
Fixed and dilated, I'm afraid.

OK. That's it.

- Time, Staff?
- 14.37.

(DOCTOR)
Record that as time of death.

- Oh, you are untidy!
- (MARLOW) Who is? What?

Dropping your sweeties
all over the place.

- Oh, they're not...
- Try and be more careful, shall we?

Yeah, I'm sorry.

- Shall I unwrap one?
- I'd prefer a cigarette.

- I'm not giving you one of those...
- You shouldn't smoke.

- I don't know why they allow it.
- Yes. They might make me ill.

- Have you been greased yet?
- No.

You should have been.
Why tell us now?

Did I say anything? Did I?
Jesus Christ on a bike.

It's all right, Staff.
I'll do it before I go off.

It makes you a bit more comfortable,
doesn't it...eventually?

I'm... All right. I will
have a sweet now, Nurse, please.

What's the matter?

Nothing.

Do you want something for the pain?

(WHIMPERS) They're very nice,
these sweets, Nurse.

Very nice indeed. (SOBS)

(JAUNTY JAZZ TUNE)

(BOY) I'll find out. I'll find out.

I'll find out things.

I'll find out.
I'll find out who done it.