All language subtitles for Good.Omens.S01E03.720p.WEB.x264-GalaxyTV

[God] Aziraphale.
Angel of the Eastern Gate.

[Aziraphale]
Yes, Lord?

[God] Where is the flaming sword
I gave you, Aziraphale,

to guard the Gate of Eden?

Sword? Right.

Um... uh...

Big, sharp, cutty thing. Yes.
[laughs nervously]

Uh...

Oh, must have, uh--

must have put it down
here somewhere.

Um...

Forget my own head next.

Oh, dear.

[thunder crashes]

[chickens clucking]

Hello, Aziraphale.

Crawley.

So, giving the mortals
a flaming sword.

How did that
work out for you?

The Almighty has never
actually mentioned it again.

Probably a good thing.

What's all this about?

Build a big boat and fill it
with a travelling zoo?

From what I hear,
God's a bit tetchy.

Wiping out
the human race.

Big storm.

All of them?

Just the locals.

I don't believe the Almighty's
upset with the Chinese.

Or the Native Americans.

Or the Australians.

-Yet.
-And God's not actually

going to wipe out
all the locals.

I mean, Noah, up there,

his family, and his sons,
their wives,

they're all going to be fine.

But they're drowning
everybody else?

[goats bleating]

Not the kids?
You can't kill kids.

Mm-hmm.

Well, that's more
the kind of thing
you'd expect my lot to do.

Yes, but when it's done,

the Almighty's going to put up a
new thing, called a "rain bow",

as a promise
not to drown everyone again.

How kind.

You can't judge the Almighty,
Crawley.

God's plans are--

Are you going to say
"ineffable"?

Possibly.

-[horse whinnies]
-Oy! Shem!

That unicorn's going to make
a run for it.

Oh, it's too late.
It's too late!

Well, you've still
got one of them.

[thunder crashes]

[rain patters]

Father, please.

-[loud clang]
-[gasps]

You have to forgive them.

Aah!

They don't know
what they are doing.

Aah!

[Crowley] Come to smirk
at the poor bugger, have you?

[Aziraphale]
Smirk? Me?

Well, your lot
put him on there.

I'm not consulted on
policy decisions, Crawley.

Oh, I've changed it.

-Changed what?
-My name.

"Crawl-y" just wasn't
really doing it for me.

It's a bit too...
squirming-at-your-feet-ish.

Well, you were a snake.

So, what is it now?

Mephistopheles?
Asmodeus?

Crowley.

-Hmm.
-[hammer pounds]

[gasping and moaning]

Did you, uh...

ever meet him?

Yes.

Seemed a very bright
young man.

I showed him all the kingdoms
of the world.

Why?

He's a carpenter
from Galilee.

His travel opportunities
are limited.

-[Jesus cries out]
-That has got to hurt.

What was it he said that got
everyone so upset?

"Be kind to each other."

Oh, yeah.
That'll do it.

[Jesus gasping]

[moaning]

[gasping]

-[wailing]
-[dramatic music swells]

[indistinct chattering]

[Crowley]
What have you got?

Give me a jug of whatever
you think is drinkable.

Jug of house brown.

Two sesterces.

Crawley-- Crowley?

Well...

Fancy running into you here.

Still a demon, then?

What kind of stupid question
is that, "Still a demon"?

What else am I going to be,
an aardvark?

Salutaria.

In Rome long?

Just nipped in
for a quick temptation.

-You?
-I thought I'd try

Petronius' new
restaurant.

I hear he does remarkable things
to oysters.

I've never eaten an oyster.

Oh.

Oh, well,
let me tempt you to--

Oh, no.

No, that's--
that's your job, isn't it?

[crows squawking]

[dramatic music plays]

[footsteps]

Hello?

I, Sir Aziraphale
of the Table Round,

am here to speak

to the Black Knight.

Oh. Right.

Um... hello.

-Yeah, come.
-[stammers] I...

I was hoping to meet
with the Black Knight?

You have sought
the Black Knight, foolish one.

But you have found
your death.

Is that you under there,
Crawley?

Crowley.

What the hell
are you playing at?

It's alright, lads.
I know him. He's alright.

I'm here spreading foment.

What is that,
some kind of porridge?

No. I'm, you know,
fomenting dissent and discord.

King Arthur's been
spreading too much

peace and tranquillity
in the land,

so I'm here, you know,
fomenting.

Well, I'm meant to be
fomenting peace.

So we're both working very hard
in damp places

and just cancelling
each other out?

Well, you could put it
like that.

It is a bit damp.

Be easier if we both
stayed home.

If we just sent messages back
to our head offices

saying we'd done everything
they'd asked for, wouldn't it?

But that would be lying.

Eh, possibly, but the end
result would be the same.

Cancel each other out.

But, my dear fellow...

well, they'd check.

Michael's a...
bit of a stickler.

You don't want to get Gabriel
upset with you.

Oh, our lot have
better things to do

than verifying compliance
reports from Earth.

As long as they get
the paperwork,

they seem happy enough.

As long as you're being seen
to be doing something

every now and again.

No! Absolutely not!

I am shocked that you would
even imply such a thing.

We're not having
this conversation.

Not another word.

-Right.
-Right!

[helmet clanks]

[minstrel music playing]

[woman]
Oysters!

-Oranges!
-Some grapes, please.

-[man] To be or not to be,
that is the question.
-They look scrummy.

Whether 'tis nobler
in the mind

to suffer the slings and arrows

-of outrageous fortune...
-I thought you said
we'd be inconspicuous here.

Blend in among the crowds.

[Aziraphale]
Well, that was the idea.

-[Shakespeare] Hang on.
-[woman] Oranges!

This isn't one of Shakespeare's
gloomy ones, is it?

-No wonder nobody's here.
-Shh. It's him. It's him.

Prithee, gentles.
Might I request a small favour?

Could you, in your role
as the audience,

give us more
to work with?

You mean, like when the ghost
of his father came on,

and I said,
"He's behind you!"

Just so.
That was jolly helpful.

Made everyone on stage
feel appreciated.

A bit more of that.

Good Master Burbage,
please.

Speak the lines
trippingly.

I am wasting my time
up here.

No, no, you're very good.

I love all the...

talking.

And what does
your friend think?

Oh, he's not my friend.

We've never met before.
We don't know each other.

I think you should
get on with the play.

Yes, Burbage. Please.

From the top.

[Burbage]
To be or not to be.

That is the question.

To be! I mean, not to be!

Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!

[laughs]

[Burbage] Whether 'tis nobler
in the mind to suffer

-the slings and arrows...
-He's very good, isn't he?

Age does not wither,

nor custom stale
his infinite variety.

Mmm!

Yeah, I like that.

[Burbage] To die. To sleep.

-No more...
-What do you want?

Why ever would you
insinuate

that I might possibly
want something?

You are up to no good.

Obviously. You're up to good,
I take it?

Lots of good deeds?

No rest for the...
well, good.

I have to be in Edinburgh
at the end of the week.

-Oh.
-A couple of blessings to do.

A minor miracle to perform.

Apparently,
I have to ride a horse.

[groans] Hard on the buttocks,
horses.

Major design flaw,
if you ask me.

I'm meant to be heading
to Edinburgh too this week.

Tempting a clan leader
to steal some cattle.

Doesn't sound like
hard work.

-The pangs of despised love
and the insolence of office.
-[burps]

-And the spurns that we are...
-That's why I thought we
should...

Well, bit of a waste
of effort,

both of us going
all the way to Scotland.

You cannot actually
be suggesting...

what I infer...

you are implying.

Which is?

That just one of us goes
to Edinburgh, does both.

The blessing
and the tempting.

We've done it before.

Dozens of times now.

-The arrangement--
-Don't say that.

Our respective head offices
don't actually care

how things get done.

They just want to know
they can cross it off the list.

But if Hell finds out,
they won't just be angry,

they'll destroy you.

Nobody ever has to know.

Toss you for Edinburgh.

Fine. Heads.

Tails, I'm afraid.
You're going to Scotland.

It's been like this
every performance, Juliet.

Complete dud.

It'd take a miracle to get
anyone to come and see "Hamlet".

Yes, alright.

I'll do that one.
My treat.

-Oh, really?
-I still prefer the funny ones.

[crowd cheering]

-[wet slice]
-[head thuds]

[crowd cheers]

[keys rattle]

[speaking French]

[speaking French]

[speaking French, poorly]

...mistake--

Uh, erreur.

Bit out of practise
at the French.

Um... [attempting French]

-I speak English.
-[guillotine slides and crashes]

-[crowd clamouring]
-Listen to that.

The fall of
the guillotine blade.

Is it not terrible?

Yes. Yes, cutting off that
poor woman's head. Terrible.

It is Pierre.
An amateur.

Always he let go
of the rope too soon.

You are lucky that it is I,
Jean-Claude,

who will remove your traitorous
head from your shoulders.

Look, this is all
a terrible mistake.

-I don't think you understand--
-I have good news for you.

You are the 999th aristo

to die at the guillotine
by my hand.

But the first English.

Now...

Please. No.

Dreadful mistake,
discorporating me.

Oh, it'll be
a complete nightmare.

-[guillotine crashes]
-[crowd cheers]

Animals.

[Crowley]
Animals don't kill each other

with clever machines,
angel.

Only humans do that.

Crowley.

Oh, good Lord.

[Crowley]
What the deuce are you doing

locked up in the Bastille?

I thought you were
opening a book shop.

Well, I was.

I got peckish.

"Peckish"?

Well, if you must know,
it was the crepes.

You can't get decent ones
anywhere but Paris.

And the brioche.

So you just popped across
the Channel during a revolution,

because you wanted
something to nibble?

-Dressed like that?
-I have standards.

I'd heard they were getting a
bit carried away over here but--

Yeah, this is not
getting carried away.

This is cutting off lots of
people's heads very efficiently

with a big head-cutting machine.

Why didn't you just perform
another miracle and go home?

I was reprimanded
last month.

They said I'd performed
too many frivolous miracles.

Got a strongly worded note
from Gabriel.

Well, you're lucky
I was in the area.

I suppose I am.

Why are you here?

My lot sent me a commendation
for outstanding job performance.

So all this
is your demonic work?

No. The humans thought it up
themselves.

Nothing to do with me.

[snaps fingers]

Well, I suppose
I should say thank you

for the, uh, rescue.

Don't say that.

If my people hear
I rescued an angel,

I'll be the one in trouble.

And my lot do not send
rude notes.

Well, anyway,
I'm very grateful.

What about if I buy you lunch?

Looking like that?

[sighs]

Well, barely counts
as a miracle, really.

[snaps fingers]

[man speaking French]

[gasps and sputters]

Dressed like that,
he's asking for trouble.

What's for lunch?

What would you say
to some crepes?

[guillotine slicing]

[chattering]

Look, I've been thinking.
What if it all goes wrong?

We have a lot in common,
you and me.

I don't know.

We may have both
started off as angels,

but you are fallen.

I didn't really fall.

I just, you know...

sauntered vaguely downwards.

I need a favour.

We already have
the agreement, Crowley.

Stay out
of each other's way.

Lend a hand when needed.

This is something else,

for if it all
goes pear-shaped.

I like pears.

If it all goes wrong,

I want insurance.

What?

I wrote it down.
Walls have ears.

Well, not walls.
Trees have ears.

Ducks have ears.

Do ducks have ears?

Must do. That's how
they hear other ducks.

Out of the question.

Why not?

It would destroy you.

I'm not bringing you
a suicide pill, Crowley.

That's not what I want it for.
Just insurance.

I'm not an idiot,
Crowley.

Do you know what trouble
I'd be in if...

if they knew I'd been
fraternising?

It's completely
out of the question.

Fraternising?

Well, whatever you wish
to call it.

I do not think there is any
point in discussing it further.

I have lots of other people
to fraternise with, angel.

-Of course you do.
-I don't need you.

Well, and the feeling is mutual,
obviously.

[mimics] Obviously.

[clock chiming]

[air raid sirens wail]

Mr Glozier. Mr Harmony.

Mr Fell.
You are late.

But not to worry.

You have the books
for the Fuehrer?

[Aziraphale]
Yes, I do.

Books of prophecy.

Otwell Binns, Robert Nixon,
Mother Shipton.

First editions, as requested.

What about the other book
we told you to bring us?

The Fuehrer was most definite
that he needs it.

It has the prophecies
that are true.

With the true prophecy book,
the war is as good as won.

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies
of Agnes Nutter, Witch.

No luck. I'm afraid that is the
Holy Grail of prophetic books.

The Fuehrer also wants
the Holy Grail.

And the Spear of Destiny,
should you run across them.

[Harmony] Why are there no
copies of Agnes Nutter's book?

We have made it clear
that money is no object.

You will be
a very rich man.

The unsold copies of The Nice
and Accurate Prophecies

were destroyed
by the publisher,

which is, well,
all of them.

It never sold
a single copy.

But I found the publisher's
catalogue for 1655,

and it does list one
of Agnes Nutter's prophecies.

What was it?

Her prophecy for 1972.

"Do not buy Betamax."

Who is Peter Max?

I have no idea.

I will pass it on
to the Fuehrer.

These volumes of prophecy
will be in Berlin

by the end of the week.

The Fuehrer will be
most grateful.

[Harmony] You have been
exceedingly helpful, Mr Fell.

[gun cocks]

Such a pity you must
be eliminated, but take heart,

just another death
in the Blitz.

That's not very sporting.

You do not appear worried,
my friend.

[gun cocks]

He's not worried.

Who is she?

She, my double-dealing
Nazi acquaintance,

is the reason why none of those
books are going back to Berlin,

and why your nasty
little spy ring

will be spending the rest
of the war behind bars.

Let me introduce you
to Captain Rose Montgomery

of British Military
Intelligence.

Thank you for
the introduction.

Our side know
all about you two.

She recruited me
to work for you.

And now she's going to tell you
that this building

is surrounded
by British agents,

and that you two
have been--

What is that lovely
American expression?

Played for suckers.

-Yes, about that--
-Right. Everyone!

Come on!

Round them up!

Rose, where exactly
are your people?

[laughs]
We are all here.

Allow me to introduce

Fraulein Greta Kleinschmidt.

-She works with us.
-[gasps]

[speaking German]

[speaking German]

"Played for a sucker".
I must remember that.

I am played for a sucker,
you are played for a sucker,

he, she, it... [chuckles]
will be played for a sucker.

Now, where were we?

Oh, yes. Killing you.

You can't kill me.

-There'll be paperwork.
-[door slams]

[Crowley gasping]

Sorry, consecrated ground.

Oh! It's like being at the beach
in bare feet.

What are you doing here?

Stopping you getting
into trouble.

I should have known.
Of course.

These people
are working for you.

No. They're a bunch
of half-witted Nazi spies

running around London,

blackmailing
and murdering people.

I just didn't want
to see you embarrassed.

Mr Anthony J. Crowley.

Your fame precedes you.

-Anthony?
-You don't like it?

No, no, I didn't say that.
I'll get used to it.

The famous Mr Crowley?

That's such a pity
you must both die.

What does the "J" stand for?

[stammers] It's just a "J",
really.

Look at that!

A whole fontful
of holy water.

It doesn't even have guards.

Enough babbling.
Kill them both.

In about a minute, a German
bomber will release a bomb

that will land right here.

If you all run away very,
very fast, you might not die.

You won't enjoy dying,

definitely won't enjoy
what comes after.

You expect us
to believe that?

The bombs tonight will fall
on the East End.

Yes. It would take a last-minute
demonic intervention

to throw them off course, yes.

You're all wasting your valuable
running-away time.

And if, in 30 seconds,
a bomb does land here,

it would take a real miracle for
my friend and I to survive it.

A real miracle?

Kill them.
They are very irritating.

[air whistling overhead]

[bombs explode]

-[air raid siren blares]
-[people screaming distantly]

That was very kind of you.

Shut up.

Well, it was.

No paperwork, for a start.

Oh, the books.

Oh, I forgot all the books!

Oh, they'll all be blown to...

[grunts]

Little demonic miracle
of my own.

Lift home?

[psychedelic pop music plays]

So, Spike,
you're the muscles,

you'll be hauling
on the ropes.

And she'll be going down
on the ropes then?

-[door creaks]
-Hang on.

Who are you?

I understand you need
a locksman.

[Crowley]
I was expecting Mr Narker.

Well, Mr Narker's passed on
to his reward.

I've taken over the business.

He was my cellmate.
He taught me everything he knew.

My name's Shadwell.

Please, sit down,
Mr Shadwell.

Lance Corporal Shadwell.

If you don't mind.

[Sally]
So, what's so valuable

that they're going to leave it
in a church at night?

We'll go over the details
of what you're obtaining for me

when we get there.

You will all be
very well compensated.

You have a question,
Lance Corporal Shadwell?

Stealing from a church.

There's nae witchcraft
involved here, is there?

No.

Completely witch-free robbery.

Mm. Pity.

Any other questions?

[Shadwell] You are not
yourself a witch,

warlock or someone that calls
your cat funny names?

Not a witch. No pets.
Anyone else?

What are we
getting paid?

A hundred now,

another hundred
when the job's done.

A hundred more
to keep schtum.

[laughs]

[Shadwell]
Mr Crowley?

May I have a moment
of your time?

Yes... Lance Corporal Shadwell.

What are you
a lance corporal in?

You don't look like
an army man.

[chuckles]

Well, that is precisely
the matter upon which

I planned
to talk to you.

You might remember
earlier this evening,

I asked a rather pointed
question about witchcraft.

-Yes.
-Well, I am a proud member

of an enormous organisation.

Vast.

A secret army that battles
the forces of witchery.

How nice for you.

The Witchfinder Army.
Perhaps you've heard of it.

What? I thought you said
it was secret.

Well, you never know when
a gentleman such as yourself

might have need
of such an organisation.

A man with hundreds of pounds
to throw around.

If you need us,

the Witchfinder Army
are here for you.

A whole army?

Think it over.

You know where
to find me.

What are you
doing here?

I needed a word
with you.

What?

I work in Soho.
I hear things.

I hear that you're
setting up a... caper

to rob a church.

Crowley, it's too
dangerous.

Holy water won't just
kill your body.

It will destroy you
completely.

You told me what you think
105 years ago.

And I haven't changed my mind.

But I can't have you
risking your life.

Not even for something
dangerous.

So...

you can call off the robbery.

Don't go unscrewing
the cap.

It's the real thing?

The holiest.

After everything
you said.

Should I say thank you?

Better not.

Well, can I drop you anywhere?

No, thank you.

Oh, don't look
so disappointed.

Perhaps one day we could...

I don't know.

Go for a picnic.

Dine at the Ritz.

I'll give you a lift.
Anywhere you want to go.

You go too fast for me,
Crowley.

[car door opens and closes]

[theme music plays]

Sorry. Right number.

I'll just go to head office
and explain it all.

Yes. So, Gabriel, um...

Listen, Gabriel,

most holy Archangel Gabr--

No, that's too formal.

Hello, Gabriel,
me old mate.

There is a-a-a child
we have to deal with

and-and make everything
OK again.

Oh, God.

[sighs]

Hello, Gabriel.

Just thought
you ought to know

that due to an unfortunate
mix-up in a hospital,

the Antichrist
has been mislaid.

But it's alright,
because I've found him.

He's living in the English
village of Tadfield.

And his 11th birthday
was the start of...

uh, the end of things.

I have his address, and so we
just have to eliminate him now,

then everything
could still be OK, yeah.

He'll have an enormous
Hell Hound with him.

He won't be hard to spot.

[God] This wasn't,
insofar as the Hell Hound

had had any expectations,

what he had imagined
life would be like

in the last days
before Armageddon.

Form shapes nature.

There are certain ways
of behaviour

appropriate to small dogs,

which are in fact
welded into the genes.

He'd surprised the huge
ginger cat from next door,

and had attempted to reduce it
to cowering jelly

by means of the usual
glowing stare.

-[meows]
-[yelps]

It had always worked
in the past.

Dog was looking forward
to a further cat experiment,

which would consist
of jumping around

and yapping excitedly at it.

-[Anathema] I can't believe it!
I can't believe it!
-[objects smashing]

-Three hundred and fifty years
my family kept it safe.
-[whimpering]

Three hundred and fifty years!

So stupid!

Come on, Dog.

[Dog barking]

Hello, are you OK?
Can I help?

[crying] I'm fine.

But you were crying.

I know.

[sniffles]

Hello.

This is going to sound
so stupid,

but I lost my book and it all
just got a bit much.

I can help you look for it.

Oh, that's sweet of you.

It's been in my family
for a long time.

I wrote a book once.

It was about this pirate
who was a famous detective.

I bet it was a lot more exciting
than any book you've lost.

Especially the bit
in the spaceship

where the dinosaur comes out

and fights
with the cowboys.

I bet it'd cheer you up,
my book.

I'm Adam.
I live in Hogback Lane.

Thanks, Adam.

Oh, I'm Anathema.

Are you from around here?

This is my world.

From Hogback Wood to the Dip,

and from the old quarry
up to the pond.

You haven't seen two men in a
big black vintage car, have you?

Did they steal it?

Professional book thieves,

probably go around in their car
stealing books.

No, no, no,
they didn't mean to steal it.

Do you want some
lemonade?

Are we going to have
to break into the cottage

and battle the witch for it?

That's my cottage.

I'm renting it.

Look, excuse me
for asking,

if it's not
a personal question,

but are you a witch?

No, I'm an occultist.

Oh, well,
that's alright, then.

[Dog growling]

Come on, you silly dog.

[God] There had been
a horseshoe over the door

of Jasmine Cottage
for hundreds of years.

It protected the inhabitants
from evil, or so they believed.

You can just leave him
in the garden.

[Adam] No. He has to do
everything he's told.

My father says I can only keep
him if he's properly trained.

[Dog yelping]

-Now, Dog, go inside.
-[growls]

Good boy.
It wasn't that hard, was it?

[God] The Hell Hound
entered the cottage

and a little bit more of Hell
burned away.

[sizzling]

[suspenseful music]

[God] Strictly speaking,

Shadwell doesn't run
the Witchfinder Army.

According to Shadwell's
pay ledgers,

it is run
by Witchfinder General Smith.

Under him are Witchfinder
Colonels Green and Jones,

and Witchfinder Majors Jackson,
Robinson and Smith.

Then there are Witchfinder
Majors Saucepan,

Tin,

Milkbottle, deceased,

and Cupboard,

because Shadwell's
limited imagination

had been beginning to struggle
at this point.

[TV chatter playing
in background]

Sergeant Shadwell.

Mr Crowley.

You're looking well.

Clean living.

And your father,
how is he?

You resemble him very much,
you know.

So they tell me.
Yeah, he's well.

I've prepared
the ledger.

The men need paying,
Your Honour.

It's hard times for Witchfinders
in today's degenerate age.

That won't
be necessary.

Two hundred
and fifty pounds.

I'll drop the money off for you
on Saturday.

Only in cash,
in an envelope.

Don't take plastic.

You astonish me.

So...

There's a village called
Tadfield, in Oxfordshire.

Send your best people
down there.

I'm looking for a boy.
He's about 11.

I don't have anything more
than that.

But look for anything...
strange.

This, uh, boy...

he's a witch?

Possibly.

We'll have to find him first,
won't we?

Aye. [chuckles]

Well, my best operative,

that would be
Witchfinder Lieutenant Table.

Call me if you find
anything.

Witchfinder Sergeant Pepper.

All my family have had
occult powers,

going all the way back.

-[Dog whining]
-We can find ley lines.

Right. What's ley lines?

Invisible lines of force
linking places of power.

Amazing there being all these
invisible lines of force around

and me not seeing them.

We can see auras.

And they are?

This coloured forcefield
surrounding someone.

Everyone's got one.

And I can look at
its strengths and colour

and tell you how
you're feeling.

That's brilliant. Why don't they
teach us about them at school?

Because school is a repressive
tool of the state.

So, what colour's my aura then?

Adam, I can't see your aura.

You said everybody's got one.

I don't know, hon.

It's an art,
not a science.

So, what else don't they
teach us at school?

They're clubbing baby seals.

They're cutting down
the rain forest

so you can get
a cheap hamburger.

Watch out for
genetically modified food.

Don't get me started
on global warming.

And that's because
whales have huge brains,

and they're hunting them
for no reason.

Nuclear power stations.

Nuclear power stations
are rubbish.

Yes! Yes, they are.

We went to one
on a school trip,

and there was nothing bubbling,

and there wasn't
any green smoke,

and there weren't anyone
in those space suits.

-And it was so dull.
-Well, yes,

but we need to get rid of them.

Serves them right
for not bubbling.

-[bell jingling]
-Adam, I have to
get back to work.

But if you're interested
in any of this stuff,

I have some old
magazines here.

You don't have to read them
if you don't want.

Wicked.

[God]
It might have helped Anathema

to understand
what was going on,

if she understood
the very simple reason

why she couldn't see
Adam's aura.

It's for the same reason
that people in Times Square

can't see America.

[Gabriel]
So, Aziraphale...

got your message.

Have you got something big?

Lay it on us.

I'm sorry?

What's happening?

OK, ahem, so...

Well, ahem...

It's-- It's about
the Antichrist.

[Uriel] Yes?

[Aziraphale]
I think that, um...

Well, it's not impossible,

uh, considering all--

all the alternatives
that the--

the other side,

might have lost track of him.
[laughs nervously]

The "other side"?

[Gabriel]
Lost track of him?

He's the son
of the U.S. ambassador.

He's under constant
surveillance.

The other side are currently
transporting him

to the plains of Megiddo.

Apparently, that's the
traditional starting point.

Middle Eastern unrest.
Everything else just follows.

The Four Horsemen ride out.

Last great battle
between Heaven and Hell.

Yes. Well, um...

it's possible
that the demon, Crowley,

a-a-a wily adversary...

[laughs nervously]

Keeps me on my toes,
I can tell you.

But the, um, ambassador's,
uh, son, uh...

-Well, it may have been a ruse.
-A ruse?

And the actual Antichrist
might be, um...

somewhere else.

Where?

Not sure.

I mean, I-I-I could
find out.

I have a team of... agents.

A dedicated team who--

who would investigate
the possibility.

Um...

hypothetically speaking,

if that were the case--

It wouldn't change anything,
Aziraphale.

There was war in Heaven

long before the Earth
was created.

Crowley and the rest
were cast out,

but nothing was ever
really settled.

I suppose it wasn't.

But there doesn't have
to be another war, does there?

As much as we appreciate
your hypotheticals, Aziraphale,

I'm afraid we have
other things to do.

The Earth isn't going
to just end itself, you know.

No. Yes. Right.

[device humming]

Hello.

[indistinct chattering]

Hello.

R.P. Tyler.

Neighbourhood watch.

I couldn't help but notice,
young person,

that you have a map.

Casing the joint, are we?

I'm-- I'm renting
Jasmine Cottage.

Oh, good Lord,
you're an American tourist.

Sorry. Thought you were
a person of interest.

Oh, I-- I am.

Listen, 11 years ago,

something came
to this village.

Some sort of beast
or creature.

And if you're
neighbourhood watch,

maybe you noticed.

Tadfield is a perfectly
respectable village.

If you're coming here
to smoke your fatty spliffers

and bimble off
to woo-woo land,

then I suggest
that you go elsewhere.

Like back to America.

[dog barking]

"Fatty spliffers"?

What did you think
of that, then?

That's an angel who's been
down there too long.

I don't trust him.

Hypotheticals, indeed.

[phone rings]

[ringing continues]

[ringing continues]

[in posh accent] Hello.

[Aziraphale, on phone]
Witchfinder Sergeant
Shadwell, please.

Or, um, one of his officers.

[Tracy] I shall endeavour to see
if he is available.

Hold on.

Coo-ee, Mr Shadwell.

Oh, hello, dear.

Hello, Madame Tracy.

Away with you, harlot.

There's a gentleman
on the telephone for you.

Sounds ever so refined.

And I'll be getting a nice bit
of liver for us for Sunday.

I'd sooner sup
with the devil.

So if you could just give me
the plates back from last week.

There's a love.

-Aye?
-[door closes]

[Aziraphale]
Sergeant Shadwell.

-It's you-know-who.
-Who?

Me. Your, um, sponsor.

Listen, do you have
any men free?

I need them to poke about a bit.

Poke?

Where exactly do you
want them poking?

Tadfield.

It's a small town
in Oxfordshire.

There's a boy I need placed
under observation.

I-I need to know where he is
at all times.

I can give you
his address.

I'll put a squad
of my best men onto it.

Oh, good.
Thank you so much.

[Aziraphale] Oh,
and I should have asked about
Witchfinder Major Milkbottle.

I was so sorry to hear
of his untimely end.

I sent flowers.

Aye, the flowers
were appreciated.

And so was the extra £20
for the family.

He was a brave man.

Oh, I was flabbergasted
when you told me how he died.

Aye. A brave man.

I'll be by the bookstore,
um, next week

to pick up
your annual dues.

Squad of best men to Tadfield,
dear fellow.

And keep them there
until I give you more orders.

Now, the boy is called...

Adam Young.

And his address is number four,
Hogback Lane, Tadfield.

Have you got it?

[Shadwell]
Absolutely, Your Honour.

-Tadfield it is.
-Right. Pip-pip.

And let me know when your men
are in position.

Pip-pip.

Great southern pansy.

Find any witches yet,
Witchfinder Private Pulsifer?

Even better than that.

I found something
really interesting.

Hmm.

I've discovered some
unusual weather patterns.

There's a town
in Oxfordshire

with some very strange
weather events.

Oh? Raining blood?

Or raining fish?

Satanic frost in summer
withering the crops

after some hag got into
an argument with a farmer?

No. It's just...

it always has perfect weather
for the time of year.

You call that a phenomenon?

Normal weather for the time
of year isn't normal.

Crisp autumns,
long, hot Augusts.

The kind of weather
you used to dream of as a kid.

[Newt] It's snowed there
every Christmas Eve
for the last 11 years.

Not interested.

Just look for witches and
witch-caused phenomenon-enoms.

[God] He called himself
"Dr Raven Sable",

but you know him
by another name.

He loves hunger.

He loves people not eating
enough in fancy restaurants.

Your main course, madam.

Chicken froth on a reduction
of broccoli gel

with a mushroom foam.

And the chef recommends
that you have this first.

A balloon filled
with lavender-scented air.

It is the first course.

[Sable]
It just occurred to me.

I've never seen a room full
of rich people so hungry before.

[God] He's a businessman
with a chain of restaurants.

And he's about to launch
something new.

Chow: food-free food.

["Hound Dog" playing]

Artificial bun.
Artificial burger.

Fries that have never
seen a potato.

Foodless sauces.

And... we're rather
proud of this:

a completely artificial
dill pickle.

The shake doesn't contain
any actual food content either.

Well, nobody's shakes contain
any actual food content.

OK, let's try it out.

Press this button
when you hand over the Chow.

And don't call it "food".
It's Chow.

[electronic voice] Chow-brand
unfood contains spun,

plaited and woven protein
molecules

designed to be ignored
by your digestive enzymes,

no-cal sweeteners, oil
replacements, fibrous materials,

colourings and flavourings.
Chow is an edible substance

and must not
be confused with food.

Eating Chow can help
you to lose weight,
hair and kidney functions.

May cause anal leakage.
Enjoy your meal.

Party, name of Sable?

I thought it was you.

I looked around,
I thought, "Tall gent
with a beard, nice suit."

[Int'l. Express Man]
There's a package for you, sir.
You have to sign for it.

[man singing indistinctly]

[man singing "Hound Dog"]

["Hound Dog" and kitchen
chatter continue]

-[Frannie gasps]
-[Sable] The measuring scales.

Finally.

I'm flying to England.

I'll let the jet know.
When are you returning?

Who knows?

Cancel all my appointments.

For how long?

-The foreseeable future.
-[box snaps closed]

Sergeant Shadwell,

you know the village
I was telling you about

with the perfect weather?

Well, according
to the manual,

witches can influence
the weather.

What if I was to sort of nip
over there tomorrow,

have a little look round?

I could pay
for my own petrol.

This village, it wouldn't
be called Tadfield, would it?

How did you know that?

Aye.

Well, I suppose
it can't do any harm.

Be here at 9:00 in the morning,
afore you leave.

What for?

Your armour
of righteousness.

[phone rings]

[Crowley, on phone]
It's me.

Meet me at the third
alternative rendezvous.

Is that the old bandstand,
the number 19 bus,

or the British Museum café?

The bandstand.
I'll be there in 15 minutes.

-[crows cawing]
-[TV plays in background]

Dad, did you know that there are
ley lines everywhere?

No, Adam.
Ley lines are rubbish.

Oh, you'll like this bit,
Deirdre.

They've taped the gun
under the chair.

-[laughs]
-It's not rubbish.

They wouldn't write about it
in magazines if it was rubbish.

[laughing]

There's people from Tibet
watching everything we do

through hidden tunnels.

-[woman on TV, indistinct]
-[suspenseful music swells]

I think I might go to bed early,
actually.

[whispers]
Do you think he's alright?

He's fine.

[Crowley]
Well?

-Any news?
-Um...

What-what kind of news
would that be?

Well, have you found the missing
Antichrist's name,

address and shoe size yet?

His shoe size? Why--
Why would I have his shoe size?

It's a joke.
I've got nothing either.

It's the Great Plan,
Crowley.

Yeah. For the record,

great pustulent
mangled bollocks

to the Great blasted Plan!

May you be forgiven.

I won't be forgiven.

Not ever.

That's part of a demon's
job description.

Unforgiveable.
That's what I am.

You were an angel once.

That was a long time ago.

We find the boy.
My agents can do it.

And then what?

We eliminate him?

Someone does. I'm not personally
up for killing kids.

You're the demon.
I'm the nice one.

I don't have
to kill children.

-Uh-uh-uh...
-If you kill him,

then the world
gets a reprieve

and Heaven does not
have blood on its hands.

Oh, no blood on your hands?

That's a bit holier-than-thou,
isn't it?

I am a great deal holier than
thou. That's the whole point.

You should kill the boy
yourself.

Holi-ly.

I am not killing anybody.

This is ridiculous.
You are ridiculous.

I don't even know
why I'm still talking to you.

-Well, frankly, neither do I.
-Enough, I'm leaving.

You can't leave, Crowley.

There isn't anywhere
to go.

It's a big universe.

Even if this all ends up
in a puddle of burning goo,

we can go off together.

Go off together?

Listen to yourself.

How long have we
been friends?

Six thousand years!

Friends? We're not friends.

We are an angel
and a demon.

We have nothing whatsoever
in common.

-I don't even like you.
-You do.

Even if I did know
where the Antichrist was,

I wouldn't tell you.
We're on opposite sides.

We're on our side.

There is no "our side", Crowley.

Not anymore.

It's over.

Right.

Well, then...

[grunts]

Have a nice doomsday.

[TV plays in background,
muffled]

Brilliant.

[voices, whispering]
You can do it.

[voices overlapping]

It's getting closer.

It's getting stronger.

[Klaxon siren wails]

[whispers continue]

[whispers fade]

[alarm continues]

-That's a bit--
-[man] Impossible.

Is this a joke?

[woman]
240 megawatts of power

are currently being produced
by this power station, Eric.

It's just,
according to our indicators,

nothing's producing them.

What do you mean
I have to authorise it?

Is there anyone else?

I know I'm the minister.

Well, then, yes.

I authorise you to open
the bloody thing up.

[Geiger counter clicking]

[woman] Oh.

There's something
you don't see every day.

An enormous room without
a nuclear reactor in it.

But... there's nothing there.

Not nothing, chief.

[woman]
It looks like a sherbet lemon.

[indistinct, overlapping
whispers resume]

Mend it all. End it all.

End it all.

[upbeat theme music plays]