Original subtitles

I have come to respect the virtues that bind together a community where

brotherhood and friendship have been forged through centuries of hardship,

exploitation and danger.

A mining community acquires a resilience, a self -protective shell

of mutual respect.

But a community that shares virtues may also share vices.

Gambling. Gambling is a vice, and it is gambling that is eroding the social and

economic structure of this village.

made no difference to the revenue of the local vetting shops, no difference to

the turnover of the two bingo halls, no difference to the control booth

promoters, and no difference to the takings of the 24 fruit machines that

the corridors of the Llandowney Colliery and District Social Club.

It has affected you all, like an epidemic at Harvest Festival, when I

announced hymn number 82, A Voice Shouted House.

Last Sunday, when I chose my text a quotation from Isaiah, chapter 3,

Alwyn Morris offered me six to one. It was from Corinthians.

Any given moment of any given day, some of you may be found placing

a bet, pulling a handle, tossing a coin, or doping a whippet.

I urge you, I urge you all to turn from this pernicious.

Obsession. There's more to life than double or quits. Think.

Think on the words of George Washington.

Gambling, he said gambling, is the child of avarice, the brother of

iniquity, and the father of...

We'll now sing hymn number 339, hymn 379.

Eight minutes 42.

I'm nearest. Eight minutes 30. Thank you, gentlemen.

The Lord give us and the Lord taketh away.

Mr. Owen, April Mortlake, I presume there's illness in the family.

How did you know that?

The Owen's in chapel, the whole family at once.

They must be praying for somebody to get better.

Who is it? Mr. Pickett?

No.

No, no, it's my dad, see.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Is it serious?

Oh, yes. He's fed, in fact.

I was saying to Mortlake only this morning, I bet a fiver he doesn't last a

week.

Is there anything I can do?

I think it might be nice if you came and said a few words.

It would be a sort of great comfort to him.

And as he's on his last legs, I think the sooner the better. Of course. I

come today.

Good, good.

Only don't come at dinner time, will you? We don't like our Sunday dinner

up for anybody.

you some tea, lovey. A piece of Swiss roll.

It's nice and soft. It'll go down without your teeth.

Come on, then.

The sun's got out.

Mind you, there's still a cold wind.

But it's brightening up.

It's set on two -way family favourites. It's raining in Cologne.

I'll have the wireless off.

I thought you'd like a bit of music.

Look, I'm lying here trying to contemplate on the inner meaning of

Trying to acquire some serenity for what lies before me.

I can't do that in the middle of shabbles where he travels.

The minister's here.

Oh, what for?

Well, come to see you.

I'll be going to see him in a couple of days.

In a wooden overcoat.

I wish you wouldn't talk like that. Come on, let's make you presentable.

Do up this button now.

Mr. Simmons?

This is Mr. Simmons, the new Minister, Grandmaster.

Sit down, sit down.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Ryan.

Just in time.

I wish he wouldn't keep talking like that. He keeps talking about... talking

if... as if he'd go anywhere two weeks before the start of the flat racing

season.

People won't face up to the truth, then.

They talk about passing on or going to rest, going to a better place. Why don't

they just come right out with it and say it straight?

I don't mind. I'm going to die.

That's life, isn't it? Very brave.

Very brave man, Mr. Owen. Oh, no, I think I deserve death. Yes, I deserve

rest, you know.

Fifty years down the mines, man and boy.

Fifty years of my life spent underground.

I shan't need much acclimatization if I go to hell.

Well, I don't think there's much danger of that, is there, Mr. Ryan? Oh, well,

in my youth I was wild and dissolute.

Sang an anthem to the hill.

And I wasn't a maiden safe between here and Paltipool.

Well, I was going to say, I know we don't know each other very well, but if

there's anything at all before you... Well, if there's anything I can do...

Well, as I say, I'm no stranger to sinners.

I don't mean the hell no, no.

And the maidens haven't been much of a problem since coronation night.

It's the gambling, really. It's the gambling.

I let my family go without to swell some bookish pockets.

And I regret it bitterly.

Gambling, gambling. The child of avarice, the brother of iniquity, and

father of mischief.

George Washington said that.

Oh. He must have lost a packet to feel bitter about it.

Well, I didn't quite mean it.

Well, well, in here, Mr. Owen.

It's never too late to wipe the slate clean before you meet your maker, so

a quiet conscience. Oh, thank you, Mr. Simmons.

I feel easier in my mind now.

Well, well, I'd better go and let you have a rest.

Oh, Mr. Simmons, may I ask you one question?

Yes, of course, of course.

Well, when I get up to heaven, when I go with the angels, like, will they have

wings, like?

Yes, yes, I'm sure you will, Mr. Rowan.

And when you get up by there, too, will you have wings and all?

Well, I hope so.

I'll fly you for a quid.

coffee nut. Nice grain.

Fine man. Oh, fine man.

Hey, should you be drinking?

Well, is he not drinking, drinking? He's only a sherry woman.

Something very pious about a sherry, even if it is Australian.

If it wasn't for the drink, he'd be still with us. He'd be upstairs with his

sporting life thumping the floor for his morning cocoa.

Oh, rubbish woman. He was 84, 70's par for the course.

I mean, look at the...

Morris last week. I mean, died at 39, an empty total.

Mind you, was it by a Pickford truck, Dad?

For us academics, and that's just academics.

He was never a fit man, would never have lasted the distance. No, no, no. Now,

my father's death was due to a combination of circumstances, none of

due to the ale.

where it was 50 years of sweat and toil in the mines, two world wars, and the

excitement of seeing his fancy three furlongs ahead in the last race at

Chepstow. On it, was he? On it, boy. He was on a double, yes. Oh, yes. At least

he went out on a winner.

Oh, yes, and with dignity, too.

Didn't want to spoil our pleasure, you see. We were all sat around Grandstand,

and he must have felt unwell. And he simply rose quietly and went upstairs

lay down on his blue counterpane.

And it wasn't till after the teleprinter that he thumped a... the floor

indicating that something was amiss.

Always considerate to others, he was. Yes.

Sunday he was very weak. Oh, very weak. Didn't come downstairs at all. Even

though Harry Seacombe was on staff on Sunday? Yes.

And Mr. Simmons come round on Monday dinner time, but he was very, very weak,

but he tried to rally. Oh, he tried to rally as if he were hanging on for

something. I think, uh, I think it was the 1 .30 at Cheltenham.

Very peace.

Perfect peace? Yes. Hey, do you know those were the last words he said to me?

Oh. Just before Mr.

Simmons came to say the last farewell, he kept saying them over and over.

Perfect peace.

Perfect peace.

What a wonderful end.

Now, that's the most moving thing I've ever heard.

Since you, April, sang O My Redeemer Live It at the Eisteddfod Assembly.

Listen, listen, Tommy Pugh, I don't want to keep you anymore, is it? No, no, no,

Harry boy, business is very slack. It's this mild winter.

No, it's not that. We just want to be alone with our grief, eh? Oh, well, I'll

just finish. No, you better not. It's not the time to be drinking, is it? Come

on.

Don't waste it. No, I'll drink it myself. I'll see you in chapel, Mrs. O

My regards to Mrs. Pugh. Steal yourself out, won't you, boy?

Perfect peace.

You never told me his last words were perfect peace.

Why should I? It's only an expression of his feeling, a hope for celestial

things to come. Oh, it was an expression of hope, all right, but for things much

more temporal, see?

Perfect peace wasn't a celestial condition. It was a racehorse.

It was the winner of the 130 at Cheltenham the old fellow was hanging on

Length and a half. Yes, despite the handicap on the inside row.

Yeah, Terry, biddle come up. Definitely. Do you mean to tell me that that smile

of sweet, contented serenity on his face was due to a horse?

Well, he was 33 to one, woman.

My God, Dad, you know he was on a double Saturday, don't you? Too late, eh?

But he never gave us no picket to collect, like.

What are you saying?

What are you saying, eh? Just a minute, just a minute.

What you're saying is... He must have kept the ticket because he was on a

treble.

Saturday, I know he was on Credo's daughter, Sedgfield. Under 230.

Then Chepstow, Silvermine. 13 to 2.

All riding on perfect peace. My God!

Some hope of perfect peace he's got in there with you two shouting the odds.

But don't you see what this means?

Don't you realize the significance of a travel woman? Have you learned nothing

in life?

Assuming it's normal steak. I'm ahead of you, boy. I'm ahead of you. Listen,

£100 to £30, that's all going at £13 to £2, plus with the original steak, that's

£1, that's £5.

My God.

£848 .42.

Approximately.

That's tax. No, I've allowed for that.

in these valleys since Elizabeth Taylor and the Burton boy called her the jolly

milkman who spent at Jimmy Riddle.

Don't worry. Here we are, boy. Come on.

Let's get going by there, see.

That's it. Nothing very pious about your drinking now, is there? Listen, woman,

it's the last bottle of Australian sherry to come into this house. From now

it's nothing but the best that Cyprus can produce.

I'd buy a motorbike.

A Japanese one with a devil's head painted on the pillow.

Before you get carried away with thoughts of living like the Onassis and

the house with crates of cypress sherry, I can think of something to take the

smile off your faces. Oh, what's that?

Where's the betting slip, then?

What's going on?

Your father and Mortlake, they've been possessed. They've been through this

house like a whirlwind. They've been through my room and all. They've torn my

lovely dress.

The one I wore the night I became Llandowry's Carnival Queen.

What will I wear for the heats of the South Wales, Miss Waterport?

You respect for the living or the dead. Your grandfather would turn in his grave

if he'd got there yet.

I don't understand it. If it's not in the bed, it's got to be within

distance of it.

Unless it's in the lavatory. No, he never went.

No.

In the last few hours, the least we could do was to take the lavatory to

sir.

You know, our mum's forever tidying up. No, there's nothing of interest in the

dustbins I've been through all them.

Apart from a letter to your sister April from Morgan, Lise Morgan. That boy who

works for the town clerk?

Yes, on council notepaper, too.

I never knew he felt so strongly about her.

We ought to encourage that. Might get a reduction on the rates.

Hey, you don't think it could be in there, do you?

Oh, no, it's not in his suit. No, that was his best one.

Nothing in those pockets but mothballs and bits of old wedding cake.

No, I don't mean his clothes.

You remember how he died, assuming a rather strange position, with his right

clenched across his heart?

Oh, yes, yes, yes.

A rather defiant gesture, I thought.

Not unlike that adopted by the Black Power movement.

He was not a militant man.

No? Nor any great supporter of coloured protest. Oh, no. You remember how rude

he was to that dark who came selling ties from a suitcase?

From Bombay by way of Barry Island.

Exactly. But if a clenched fist is not a sign of defiance, it could be one of

possession.

What do you mean? Well, we've looked everywhere else.

Oh, my God.

So near and yet so far.

Just a coffin lid away.

A fistful of dollars.

What are you two doing now? Search the coffee next, is it? No.

Look, done enough damage for one day. Well, mid -April cry you did.

You tore my dress. What am I going to wear now?

It's my best section evening dress.

I always lose points in the bikini with my flippin' ankles.

And I always gain in dress at deportments.

Well, that interview was coming on no end.

What's your ambition, Miss Owen?

My ambition is to work with handicapped children

Peter Wingard.

Listen, if I find this bat in slip, I'll buy you Peter bloody Wingard.

Dad. I can't believe that you were really meant to hang on to that ticket,

If only I'd been with you.

I'd only just popped down to the Jolly Milkman to get you a nip of brandy. They

would have been straight back if they hadn't needed a fourth for Domino's Eve.

I just couldn't go wrong, Dad. Lewis Edward was knocking every game. Oh,

sorry.

I wish you'd seen his face, Dad.

You'd have died laughing.

No offence.

Sorry.

What I mean to say is, Dad, is listen to this.

You see, tomorrow you're going off to heaven at two o 'clock prompt, isn't it?

Well, you don't want to go off on the wrong foot, do you?

I mean, there will be St. Peter's here with the gate wide open and his arm out

stretching. Hello, and how are you, man? Come on inside.

And you'll stretch out your hand to grasp his.

and a betting slip will fall out.

What kind of first impression is that, Dad?

No, no.

And if St. Peter doesn't give you a stick, ma 'am, certainly will. She'll be

behind the gate there waiting for you.

What I'm suggesting, Dad, is this.

Leave it down here with me for the time being, isn't it?

Look, put it this way.

Listen, Gramps, I've lain up there for hours waiting for some divine sort of

guidance, and then it came to me, you were only clutching that ticket in your

hand to keep it from Dad, knowing how he would squander it in an orgy of self

-indulgence.

But you know that I'll use it fairly and wisely.

A new coat for Mum with fur trimmings round the collar, a scarf for Dad to

out the wind in the winter dole queue, and... I'll do my best to help April on

the catwalk of life.

Put a bit of thigh to bribe a judge or two. And then buy a bloody great

motorbike for the rest of us.

I'd be down for a scarf, did you?

Oh, yes.

And then you spend every other penny on that precious motorbike of yours. Oh,

yes, I know you.

For years now, you wanted nothing more than to steam around these valleys with

500cc throbbing between your thighs.

French polishing, I suppose.

Keep your voice down. I never had such a fright since Alwyn Hughes told me she

was three weeks late.

I suspected you'd be up to something like this.

That's why I came down here to keep vigil.

Swear to that on your father's box, would you?

Oh, all right, I admit it, I admit it. Admit it!

I couldn't get to sleep thinking about it.

I've been lying up there for hours rationalizing.

Yeah, me too.

You know, I can't believe that Gramps wouldn't have wanted to include that

ticket in his last will and testament. Exactly.

Exactly. Think of the pleasure it would have given him. Think of Jones, the

bookie. Think of all the money that Dad has given to Jones over the years. Boy,

if it hadn't been for Dad, Jones would never have had that ornamental fist

would he?

Or those holidays in Malta where that girl he calls his niece works his iron

machine for him.

Wouldn't Dad... I'd want to see Jones' face as he paid out £848 .42.

That's an irrefutable argument, Dad, to which I can find no objections, either

moral or religious. Good boy.

Eat your heart out, Jones.

No, hang on a sec, Dad.

Why? What is it? Well, I saw this film once.

Horror film it was, all about ghouls. And this fellow opened up his father's

grave, much as we're doing, to get out this priceless ruby ring in his case.

Against his better instinct, mind, but driven to it by his beautiful and

restless wife, as portrayed by Rhonda Fleming. Oh, yes, beautiful and

what she is, I know, yes.

And urged him on to open the tomb, she was. And did he?

Eventually, driven to the point of desperation by a taunt. Oh, I remember

too, yes.

He took a shovel down into the moonlit graveyard, and he opened up the coffin,

and he saw...

His father's skull twisted into the distorted shape of torment.

Oh, my God. What happened then? The man's own face froze into the same

shape of the corpse's skull, like this.

Yes.

Oh, God, as bad as that was it.

Oh,

yes, but that was a grave in a moonlit graveyard, wasn't it, Wotniksie?

I mean, this is a coffin in our front room. I mean, it's not even nailed down

yet. I don't think it puts us in the goal league if it's not nailed down,

it? No, perhaps not. No, anyhow, that was a film, you see. Just tell your old

fantasy. Yes, I know, I know. But just in case there is any truth in the

when you open the lid, keep a straight face.

What do you want to go and say a thing like that for?

Just when I'd keyed myself up to the moment of decision.

Anyhow, ghouls are just like werewolves and vampires. They're just the product

of myth and stupid superstition. Just symbols of terror that loom large in the

over -imaginative minds of Central European peasants. Right?

Right, darling. Right.

Well, go on, open it, then.

Me? Why, me? You're the one who's keyed up for the moment of decision.

Yes, well, I've wound down again now.

Look, I'll tell you what, then. Look, I know.

Look, we'll settle this in the traditional Owen way. We'll toss for it.

happen to carry any loose change in my pyjamas.

Oh, look, look, look. Here we are then. Right, right. Now then.

Which hand's it in then?

Oh, you don't think I'm falling for that one, do you? With an ex -member of the

Llandowri Magic Circle?

What, you think I'd cheat at a time like this? You've cheated all your life. Why

should tonight be any different?

I'll tell you what we will do. Here we are. Look.

Tell you what.

A petal at a time and the one left with the last petal's added.

Dad, how could you suggest that? Well,

what do you suggest, then? What do you suggest?

We toss the coffin in the air and call out rough or smooth?

Anyway,

it's no good. It's no good. I've had it. I couldn't open that coffin now if

you'd paid me a million pounds.

And that's that.

No, I don't blame you, Dad. I couldn't either.

My bottle's gone.

I could have done.

I could have opened it. If you hadn't crept downstairs filling my head with

horror stories, we would have been 848 pounds richer by now.

Well, I'm back off up to bed anyway.

I'm sorry, Dad.

Oh, it's all right. I don't suppose it was ever meant to be, boy.

Somewhere beyond a mortal comprehension, the divine judgment has been decreed.

Well, R .I .P. then, Dad.

Don't feel any pangs of conscience about depriving your family of a few of the

little comforts that their lives of toil and sacrifice have never afforded.

They say you can't take it with you.

Well, he bloody has.

I think it went very well, though.

Oh, it went very smoothly, not a hitch.

And such a lovely day. I'm so glad he kept fine for him.

I'll put your tea down here, Mr. Pell, OK?

Oh, thank you, April Bach.

You all right, Mr. Pell? Oh, yes, April Bach.

I was merely admiring your dress. Very suitable, I thought.

Mr. Simmons, would you like one of my drop scones? No, no.

I mustn't stay too long, Mrs. Owen. Thank you. Thank you.

Morty Evans?

Mortlick?

Well, I might as well be talking to the wall.

I don't know what's the matter with them.

They took it very hard, Mrs. Owen.

Well, yes, there's no need to be miserable, though. They've cast a gloom

the whole proceedings.

Could I have a word with you, Mr. Owen?

What? A word with you, please, somewhere quiet.

Oh, he's supposed to wipe him, isn't he?

Yes, come in the front room.

Yes,

this will

do. Fine.

We never use this room.

Only for death or dignitaries.

Or the woman from the Avon Cosmetics.

Well... Well, I wanted to see you alone, Mr. Wayne, because, well, I'm on the

horns of a dilemma, as it were. Oh, well, you'd better sit down, Mr.

Just before your father died, he gave me this.

Oh.

Oh. Oh, we, uh...

We've been looking for that.

We've been looking for that all over the place.

Oh, yes, what a relief that is, yes.

That's his dry -cleaning ticket, see that?

This is no dry -cleaning ticket. No, no, no, no, of course not. No, no, that's

his other ticket. That's his raffle ticket. He always had two tickets, and

must be his raffle ticket. Oh, yes, we were great staunch supporters, you see,

of noble causes, yes. That's for pit ponies, you see. The relief for pit

yes. If I could just have it now, really.

I can't give it to you.

That's my dilemma. I don't know what to do with it. Oh, it's not simple, Mr.

Severs. You just give it to me and I'll put it in a safe place, you see. And put

it in the coronation mug on the mantelpiece next to the photograph of

John. And that beautiful, that beautiful chromolithograph of our dear Lord, whom

you so closely resemble.

Or we could take it down to Jones the bookie and cash it in.

Cash it in?

Cash it in?

Jones the who?

This is betting slips.

Mr. Rowan. Oh, betting slip, is it? Oh, that's a betting slip, is it?

I've often wondered what they look like, yes.

Come on, Mr. Rowan, you know as well as I do. My problem is that your father

gave this to me, and the significance of that gesture has been troubling me for

the past 48 hours. Oh, well, there's no need to trouble yourself about a

worthless slip of paper, Mr. Simmons. Is the £848 .42

worthless?

Listen, I'm his son, see. I'm his son. I'm his only son.

I'm his eldest and youngest son. I'm his sole, solitary son. And heir, heir,

see, heir. That's the word, heir.

That is legally and morally mine, see. Not necessarily.

No, I think he gave me this to make amends. I think he saw in it a way to

spiritual fulfillment by way of our chapel restoration fund.

Oh, can't. Why, of the wrath of the Lord, I cut.

That's bribery, that is. You can't buy yourself a place in heaven. You have to

wait your turn, like down here on the housing list.

No, no, I don't see it that way. Listen, Mr.

Simmons, don't get excited, will you? Now, just sit down with that. I think we

ought to talk about this. Why don't you go away now and come back when they've

all gone? And then you could just relax, couldn't you? April will show you her

trophies. You can have tea, you can have dinner, you can have anything you like.

You can have April if you like.

Hold yourself together, Mr. Owens. Oh, sorry, I didn't mean that last bit. No,

I'm sorry. I didn't say that the Lord and I had come to an irrevocable

We didn't, no. No, no, no, I'm well aware of the implications of wills and

testaments and family inheritance.

Oh, inheritance, yes.

I like the sound of that word.

You can't argue with a word like that, can you? No, no, so I think we'll place

the decision in the hands of Providence. Oh, yes.

How do you mean?

We'll cut for it.

Bye. Bye.

Mr. Phillips.

Mr. Jenkins.

Young Barry.

Mr. Rowan.

April. Mr.

Rowan.

Double or quits.