Original subtitles

Downloaded from YTS.LT

Official YIFY movies site: YTS.LT

[jazz music playing]

[man] Good morning to you from Lords.

Good morning to you from Lords.

Second England-Australia test match of 1948.

The umpires are out, England fieldsmen,

and here are Barnes and Morris for Australia,

out for a hit with the bat.

[soft music playing]

[crowd cheering]

How's that!

[Alan's mother] Alan!

Ten past eight!

What are you doing up there?

Will you try this morning, Alan?

Something? Anything.

A lightly boiled egg?

Please, God, let it be today.

Somehow let it come true today.

A few cornflakes wouldn't hurt you.

I know Thursdays are difficult for you,

what with the girls having doubled domestic science

while we're on double PT,

but if just somehow...

I don't think I can last out another day.

[Alan's mother] If I made you fresh air on toast,

would you eat the toast?

And in return, I promise,

I hereby solemnly promise

that I won't even think about

the other things.

Well, try not to think about the other things.

I didn't all day yesterday,

all last night when I got into bed.

And I'm not now, honest to God, God.

Look, no hands.

Please, God.

Today or tomorrow.

Or early next week at the latest,

weather permitting.

Just one kiss. One will do.

Amen.

And I'll never ask for anything again.

Promise.

[Alan's mother] Have you got your towel yet?

Mother, I'm not a child.

[woman] Did you...

Mother, I'm 14.

Pound a penny you didn't Blanco your plimsolls.

[commentator] Bedser snatches the ball out of the air

from Evans' throw,

polishes it on that not inconsiderable chest of his,

and prepares this giant of a man

to bowl yet again to Don Bradman.

And with Bradman, 63, and Australia

a dismaying 235 for one.

Here he comes.

Gathering pace, gathering strength.

Pounding, pounding powerfully up to the wicket.

And he bowls.

Bradman yet again, hooks him convulsively for four,

and Bedser's shoulders droop and grimaces philosophically

at no one in particular.

[groans]

It's cramp.

I've got cramp!

Bloody hellfire and scrotums!

Millions of pounds on education.

It will be with him living under the shadow

of the bomb, I expect.

[groaning]

[children singing hymn]

♪ All things wise and wonderful ♪

♪ The Lord God made them all ♪

♪ He gave us eyes to see

Tommy! Tommy!

Hey, Tommy, guess what?

One day you'll break the school record

and turn up at home time.

I've just seen a miracle.

I reckon you're gonna bloody need one.

Just now I was witness to a phenomenon

and to a miracle.

How many times a week do you have to be late

before you get your ass clattered?

-Three. -And what's today make?

Four.

Are you feeling any happier this morning?

Sod off in with you.

P'tang yang kipperbang. Uh!

Get in.

[gentle music playing]

Good evening, Duckworth.

Sorry I'm late, Miss Land.

Do you know what time school actually starts?

And anyone who says no, it's always started

by the time he gets here, sees the headmaster at once.

You're seeing him at 12.

Yes, Miss. Thank you. Miss.

Silent reading. The Mill on the Floss.

Chapter seven. Questions at the end of the lesson.

[speaking indistinctly]

Who was that?

P'tang yang kipperbang. Uh!

P'tang yang kipperbang. Uh!

All right. Who's moaning and groaning?

The next person who moans and groans

will stand outside the door

while thinking of an explanation for the headmaster.

-We should've fought back. -With what?

He doesn't know what time school starts.

Could've said it started by...

Duckworth! Get out!

But please, Miss. Alan just got in.

All right, both of you, outside the door.

Impudence and impertinence.

Since silent reading appears to be a contradiction in terms,

we'll now have reading aloud, and you start

at the top of page 380.

"A little extra paleness, a little tension of the nostril

"when he spoke, and the voice pitched in rather a higher key,

"that to strangers would seem expressive or cold indifference

"were all the signs Philip usually gave

"of an inward drama."

Which, unlike the oak leaf, is ovate elliptic

rather than auricular, although acute at the apex.

Notice the straight lateral nerves

and the slightly toothed edge.

These appear in early May when the tree begins to flower,

and here it's similar to the oak

in that the flowers are unisexual.

[kids chuckling]

Females are clusters around the stalks

and the males globular and...

Duckworth.

Duckworth.

Well?

I didn't hear the question, miss.

I didn't ask you one.

You're daydreaming again.

The whole point of nature study is to study nature.

Yes, Miss.

Not to daydream.

No, Miss.

And daydreaming isn't studying nature, is it?

Is it?

No, Miss.

No.

Jolly dee.

Next!

Next!

Inside?

-Definitely. -Next!

With your hand?

What do you think? My elbow?

-Next! -She let you?

It was her idea.

Actually inside her brassiere?

Next to her heaving, naked white flesh?

Near enough.

What?

Definitely inside the blouse.

Well, it's more than you've ever got.

Interior blouses in between a blouse and a brassiere.

-Next! -It's the real thing.

Sod off, Shaz.

For God's sake, she's not completely shagnasty.

I only had to lend her my protractor and compass.

-I could hardly-- -Talking, Willoughby?

No, sir. Coughing, sir.

You are a lying toad, Willoughby.

What are you?

Lying toad, sir.

Of the first what, Willoughby?

First what, sir?

On the wall bars, then, please. Good Friday.

-But please, sir. -On the count of three.

Three!

And feet off.

Next!

Next!

Next.

Next. Next!

-Duckworth. -Yes, sir.

From the headmaster.

Your presence is requested in his study now. Go!

-I'll just get my pants. -Now!

But, sir, I need the pants.

Now!

All right, Willoughby. Easter Monday.

Next.

-Any news? -Nothing.

-Nothing? -Nothing.

Oh, hell.

Exactly. A living hell.

Thank you.

-[knock on door] -Come.

Duckworth, is it?

Yes, sir. Thank you sir.

Persistently late four times, eh?

Weren't you given detention for the first two?

Yes, sir.

And you were late for that as well.

Just slightly, sir.

Well, Duckworth, as you well know,

I do not believe in corporal punishment.

No, sir.

I therefore prefer you to regard what is about to happen

purely as a deterrent.

Yes, sir. Thank you sir.

Bend over.

Sir, the reason today was I saw a miracle,

a scientific miracle.

A lifetime in the teaching profession

has taught me that miracles

are for weekends and holidays only.

Toes, please.

[commentator] And it's Keith Miller now,

bat menacingly poised, facing Jim Laker.

And with a flick of the wrist,

Miller drives him savagely through the covers for four.

And Miller, ever the perfectionist,

changes his bat, dances down the wicket

and smashes him viciously to the boundary.

And that's the end of the over.

Not finished yet, Duckworth.

[commentator] Sorry, I miscounted.

Wishful thinking on my part, and no doubt, England.

There's one more to come.

And Jim Laker peers at Miller,

peers at the scoreboard,

and in my fancy, peers deep into his own soul.

-[blow] -And it's a six.

Laker rolls his eyes

up to the Saint John's Wood, heading in search.

[stick clatters]

But little hope of justice.

Off you pop, laddie.

No rubbing better till you're back in class.

And even then, only within reason

in front of female members of staff.

[all chattering]

How did you get, corporal or sergeant?

Sergeant.

-Can I have your pudding? -It's Abbo's turn.

Don't you ever die of mass starvation?

Shift, boy.

[groans]

Twist.

-Seven. -Bust!

Shaz?

Stick.

-Pay 21. -Pay me.

Jammy sod.

Have you ever trodden on a big fat spider

and seen millions of little spiders come running out?

Cut.

Well, have you?

Have you what?

God. Deafness incorporated.

Have you ever burst a great bulbous spider

and thousands of miniature ones come dashing out?

No.

What would you think if you did?

Twist.

That I've been overdoing it,

and my mind had gone for a Burton.

Are you sticking?

Are they doing what?

What do you think?

Oh, no. Twist.

Nine.

Overdoing it with a girl, you mean?

Not with a girl.

If you had a girl, you'd have no need

to do it at all, would you?

Oh, that.

It can't make you think you've seen spiders, can it?

-Twist. -King.

How could he twist? He's already got...

Why have you been?

What? Singing or overdoing it?

48.

He's bust 27 times over.

I've been doing neither.

Sod off quack, quack. You're getting on my nerves.

Pond two.

Match null and void.

Ungentlemanly play from quack quack.

But I've done him pond two.

Go on, scarper.

P'tang yang kipperbang.

Anyone fancies some...

[boy] What are you playing for?

-Sweet coupons. -Hang on a sec.

I never get pond two.

Next is Shaz.

How many for Shaz?

[girls laughing]

Next, Lawrence. How many?

[girls laughing]

He's not all that bad.

He's grotesque to the nth degree.

His quiff's nice.

[all exclaiming]

Next is Geoffrey.

Geoffrey Whitaker.

Which means that from now on, there'll never be

any more wars ever again.

For the simple reason that the United Nations

will insist there's no more wars.

Any country wants to invade another,

well, the United Nations will vote against it.

QED.

So what you and all the other Tommies did,

what you all did with our gallant allies

and comrades across the seas in Commonwealth,

facing the foe

in whatever theaters of human conflict in...

-Where was it? -Where was what?

The theaters of human conflict. You know, where you fought.

Oh, Dunkirk, El Alamein, battle of the Bulge and Burma.

Dunkirk, El Alamein, the battle of the Bulge and Burma.

What you did was not just defeat Hitler's Germany

and Japan's Japan.

I mean, let's face it,

you changed the future of the world.

Look, watch your toes. You're in my way a bit.

Sorry...

Is it still worrying you?

What?

I don't know, whatever's been worrying you.

I'll survive.

Is it the Australians winning the test?

No, no.

It's nothing. Nothing to worry about.

P'tang, Yang, Kipperbang. Uh!

P'tang yang kipperbang. Uh!

Hang on a minute, Colin.

Pound to a penny, he's been trying to kiss her.

Kiss her?

Pound to a penny.

Have you got a girlfriend?

I've got red hands.

Eh?

The skin's very red and thin, like, transparent

with chewed up nails.

I hate my hands

and my neck as thin as well.

And my feet sweat, and my hands.

That's probably why they're always red.

My face goes red a lot as well.

Not blushing, I don't think. I don't blush.

Just go red. It's only a face.

Bums are nothing, really.

Everyone's got a bum. Always have had.

They're nothing to be ashamed of.

Dicks aren't either. Everyone's got a dick.

It's only the human torso. Tits included.

I mean, they're just for feeding babies,

not for bouncing about.

The same goes for getting a feel.

Kissing is different.

A kiss is...

Girls like it as well, you know.

Like what?

What boys like.

Some of them bloody love it.

I'm not talking about just French kiss.

I'm not.

Anyway, I don't bother myself.

I've got my cricket. Best get back.

[all chatting]

Attention please.

Backsplash everywhere.

-May I have backsplash, please? -[all] No.

Thank you.

We, the girls of Bobby have voted on

who is the dishiest boy in the class.

For prefect, of course.

We're allowed two votes each.

Green ones in the wash, Eunice?

Oh, shut your face, piggy features.

Pig features.

I assume I didn't get her vote, then.

[chuckling]

Belt up, everybody, it's nearly half past.

The dishiest boy in the class contest.

Votes for each boy are as follows.

First, Geoffrey.

-[all exclaiming] -Eight votes.

Second, Philip. Four votes.

Third equals... Robert.

Creeping sirup and Stephen, three votes.

Fourth, Shaz.

-Wise choice ladies. -Nice.

And fifth equals

Quasimodo...

One vote.

And last, definitely least,

Abbo, no vote.

Give him the money.

Do a re-count, give me that paper.

[school bell ringing]

Where's my paper? Who's got my paper?

How many did I get?

Marjorie, how many did I get?

What?

No, I was just remarking.

Oh, bloody...

Unit, we forgot to vote for Quack Quack.

Huh? [gasps]

Oh, sorry, Quack Quack. We didn't have you down.

[speaking French]

[speaking French]

[speaking French]

Parker.

Sir?

...

Yes, sir.

[speaking French]

[commentator] Well, cricket can be a cruel game.

It seems now that England are faced with an impossible task,

454 behind and playing like a bunch of schoolgirls.

It's enough to make strong men weep.

However, it's a funny old game, this cricket.

It's been said before, and no doubt it'll be said again

that a game's never lost till it's won.

Ah, well, we shall see.

I'm sorry, sir, I can't do drama.

Not this term.

The school play is hardly drama, Estelle.

Rehearsals will be for three weeks.

I've got it all written out on graph paper,

with the dates in red and everything.

I'm sorry, sir. I'm...

I have things on my mind just at present.

And please don't call me Estelle.

Aren't we forgetting something, Estelle?

Are we?

You can't learn to play the game of rugby

till you learn to play the game of life.

But I'm not taking rugby as well, am I?

-It's a saying. -Oh, I see.

The tables talent.

PJ Latimer, Ma Oxon.

A play in one act, suitable for schools.

Cast, two boys and one girl.

We can use the same scenery as we did for last year's trial.

These next few weeks till the end of term are a bit...

I'd be grateful, sir, if someone else could.

Seems silly calling me sir

when there's no one else in the room.

Please.

I never see you these days, Estelle.

Those days are over. These days aren't those days.

The war's been over a long time now.

And all the young men have come marching home again.

I thought we'd agreed to draw a veil over the war, Henry.

Ever since V-J night.

Well, one man's war is another man's...

You know, those days you kept me young, Estelle.

These days all I do is get older.

Sometimes in morning assembly

I find myself falling asleep

during "Onward Christian Soldiers".

Who doesn't?

While I'm actually singing it though.

[sighs]

Well...

I can't guarantee it'll be "Mrs. Miniver".

Thank you, Estelle.

You're welcome, sir.

[school bell ringing]

You boys really...

A girl just isn't safe.

You're horrible.

It's every night the same.

I'm disgusted with you.

I am truly.

Hey, you can quit that for kick off.

You pig.

You've had your ration, Quack Quack.

Sorry, Eunis.

Honestly, I don't know what gets into you.

What are you thinking of?

Miss Land.

-Estelle. -We can be seen.

Still nothing?

Oh, for God's sake.

Is there anything I can do?

I think you've done enough already, don't you?

What he did in Dunkirk, El Alamein,

the battle of the Bulge in Burma

was change the future of mankind.

On those far off shores and foreign crimes,

with his courage and heroism

above and beyond the call of, uh...

Anyway, see you tomorrow, modern generation.

-Where are you going? -Errand for my dad.

...

Where?

Palmerston Avenue way.

Well, don't walk too fast.

You'll catch Smelly Lawton up.

Smelly Lawton? Blimey!

I've better things to do than catch her up.

See you tomorrow, men.

Coming to the flicks tonight?

Homework.

Got double Cicero for hand farting in Latin.

P'tang, Yang, Kipperbang. Uh!

P'tang yang kipperbang. Uh!

[commentator] So then, 365 runs still to get,

and only one wicket left

before inevitable and overwhelming defeat.

And here comes the last England batsman.

I don't believe it. It's unbelievable.

All of Lords is flabbergasted.

Making his way to the wicket, and in doing so

making his test debut is a schoolboy.

It's unheard of. Who can he be?

Well, his name apparently is Alan Duckworth.

He's 14 years old

and he's known to his friends as Quack Quack.

Can this callow youth save the day for England?

Can this 14-year-old cricketer

make a schoolboy dream come true?

Can this young warrior striding out,

stiffening his slender neck,

can he change the course of destiny?

Well, now's his big chance.

Duckworth's courage fails him.

And Lindwall knows it.

And Duckworth, bat between his legs,

looks as though he's trying to pretend he's not even there

and he's a bit of a lolloper, this boy.

He lollops.

And he turns back towards the pavilion.

Has he given up already

or is he going to change it back?

In either event, he appears just

a little annoyed with himself,

perhaps a little frustrated.

[clattering]

I blame Dickie Valentine and Lita Roza.

[indistinct talking]

I mean...

Well, fair's fair.

I mean, marriage is out the question, isn't it?

Thank you. So much for the age of chivalry.

No, I mean, you'd get the sack.

-Me... -I know what you mean.

Thank you.

I don't even like you.

I know.

You give me the screaming abdabs.

Just not each other's type.

No.

Up the creek without a paddle.

Maybe it's just the weather.

Sometimes the weather makes women...

-Other worry. -Oh, how can it be the worry?

I wouldn't have the worry if it wasn't for the worry.

Has it never been like this before?

You know it hasn't.

Sorry, I mean

before me.

What are you suggesting?

Well, I mean, fair is fair.

I wasn't the first, was I?

Virtually.

Fair's fair.

Apart from during the war.

With a respectable married man.

Not young.

A professional man academically.

He was the only one before you.

Apart from a few times just after the war

with an American quartermaster sergeant.

Americans?

One. One American.

Virtually.

Old men and Yanks?

Bloody old two-faced fogies and randy yanks,

whilst me and my uppers are spilling blood and guts

all over Dunkirk,

El Alamein, battle of the Bulge in sodden Burma.

Seemed a good idea at the time.

I thought it might lead to something.

I couldn't read. the future, could I?

I didn't know that one day I was going to be stuck with you.

Well...

Was it ever this late with them?

Well, it can't have been, can it, Tommy?

Otherwise, I definitely wouldn't be stuck here with you.

Very good.

I followed her down her street.

I thought that might have given you a good opportunity.

But it was not to be.

So please, God, let it be tomorrow.

If poss.

Or the day after,

or at the latest before the end of term.

I never lost the summer holidays without kissing her.

Kissing her.

Kissing her on her lips.

Kissing her lips.

Kissing her.

Please help me.

If you could just see your way to taking

some of the red out of my hands,

and thicken out my neck a little,

and stop my feet from punching.

And let me kiss Ann's lips.

Please, God.

Let Tommy, cheer up

and stop being so depressed all the time.

And let England beat Australia.

And that spider I split in two be all right.

Please God,

let me stop crying all the time.

I wouldn't if you'd just let me kiss her.

I'll never cry again.

P'tang, Yang, Kipperbang. Uh!

[indistinct chatter]

Estelle, were you aware that

Geoffrey Whitaker is the matinee idol of 4B?

Sorry.

I assume that dishiest means the only one...

Because by ensuring victory over the Axis powers and Huns

what you've done is A, ensured peace for all mankind.

Full stop.

B, made all men brothers forever,

irrespective of race, color or...

What is it? Creed.

And C, ended the class struggle.

From now on there'll never again be poverty, disease and hunger

and everyone will be equal with a full and rich life,

probably all speaking Esperanto.

The best example is teasmade.

-What? -Teasmade.

What about them?

For a cup of tea when you wake up.

Best example of what though?

Of what I've been saying.

In time, everyone on earth will have a teasmade

irrespective of race, color or creed.

You can't stop progress.

I bet that's something you never thought about El Alamein.

I can't eat either.

Won't go down.

-[school bell ringing] -Hells bells! I'm late.

Oh.

Lessons.

Which not a simile, of course,

nor, in the strict sense even a metaphor.

-It is nevertheless -[motor sputtering]

the example of George Eliot's consistent...

[motor whirring]

[clears throat]

As I was saying, in the...

What was I saying?

About it not being a metaphor, Miss.

Exactly, Whitaker.

[lawn mower running]

About what not being a metaphor?

George Eliot's imagery, Miss.

Well done, Whittaker.

Thank goodness someone in the class is paying attention.

Come here a moment.

I'm very pleased with you, Whittaker.

Instead of giving you a star I'm going to make you into one.

Beg your pardon, Miss.

[grunts]

[Alan] It's for rent on my part.

I'll tell you something else.

The future industry

is the future of the university staff.

Where was she standing?

Outside of British Home Stores.

For the simple raison d'etre that from now on,

everyone in the world will go to university.

How'd you know she was one of them?

You could tell.

Was she blond with a slit up the side of her skirt?

They all have slits up the side of their skirts.

You see, now that we've won the war...

I don't carry a placard saying "Hello, dearie.

Short time '76."

No one said they did.

Now that we've won the war,

all we have to do is win the peace.

What is it? The aftermath.

How could you tell?

She had a chain around her ankle.

-What? -Chain around her ankle.

The clippie on the school bus wears a chain Around her ankle.

Well, she's right.

She's not. She's a bloody clippie.

During the daytime, yes.

She probably just does part time in the evenings.

Some just do part time, the nymphomaniacs.

Is that what they charge, 76?

It was you that said 76.

I know, but I'm not...

Some do, some charge eight bob.

The blonds.

For the lot?

The whole hog. Everything, completely bare.

Don't kiss her. That's an unwritten rule.

-They won't kiss? -Unheard of.

Why?

Never do. Only kiss their ponces.

Don't kiss ordinary fellas.

Even when they're lying on top of them and that?

It's their world, it's not true love or anything.

That's my whole point.

What point?

-Uh... -What are you talking about?

Uh...

No. I mean, it's understandable.

Bloody crackers. Who wants to kiss them, anyway?

Better things to do than kiss them.

Definitely.

And the next object is

the king of the zombies.

Is it animal, vegetable or mineral?

Or Geoffrey?

[panting]

[all] P'tang yang kipperbang. Uh!

[Alan] Anyway, grandmas like kissing.

[Shaz] Kissing is like shaking hands.

[Alan] No one said it wasn't.

[telephone ringing]

-Bye, Miss. -Ann!

Hang on.

I've decided to make you into a star as well.

You will be the leading lady.

Miss, thank you.

-Are you pleased? -Yes, thank you, Miss.

Duckworth!

What the hell are you doing?

Nothing, Miss.

Out! All of you!

-Miss, I've done my homework. -All of you out!

Filthy beasts of the field.

Out!

Not you, beast of the field.

Come here.

I'm not pleased with you, Duckworth.

No, Miss.

You're never hear when school starts.

When you are here, you're in a trance.

When you're not in a trance you're moaning and groaning.

And when you're not moaning and groaning,

you're behaving like a beast of the field.

Yes, Miss.

You're a weed and a mess and a lollop.

You lollop.

Yes, Miss.

Is this what we fought a war for?

No, Miss.

It's time you pulled your socks up, young man.

I'm therefore selecting you to be in the school play.

That might wake you up.

Your part is Antoine the philanderer,

a fellow beast of the field.

Pardon?

Your mouth's open. Close it.

Rehearsals every Monday, Wednesday,

and Friday after school.

Miss, I can't act.

4 till 5 in the main hall.

Miss, I can't act.

Acting is pretending, Duckworth.

Sure you pretend to be a human being at home, don't you,

instead of just a lullaby?

Miss, I can't stand up in front of the whole school.

Your fellow thespians are Whitaker and Ann Lawton.

Annie Lawton?

What?

Ann Lawton in the play.

Ann Lawton and Geoffrey Whitaker.

Three times a week after school,

just Ann Lawton and me.

And Geoffrey.

You're going in a trance again, Duckworth! Get out!

I thought I told you to get out.

Yes, but before that, you told me it was time

-I pulled my socks up. -Out.

[hopeful music playing]

[commentator] So Duckworth's in with a chance.

The gods are smiling, the sun's shining,

and now Quack Quack's innings can now really begin.

The cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears,

he makes his way to the wicket

to try to win the match for England,

to try to achieve the impossible.

And all Lords is hushed as Duckworth takes guard

and faces his first ball from Keith Miller.

And Miller races in all fire and fury

and bowls, and Duckworth

hooks it heavens high,

a mighty scything blow clean out of the ground.

Berk.

You stupid bugger!

Best in the bloody canal!

If it hits, you're out.

Decent shot though, wasn't it?

Not when it's six and out.

We'll have to move that canal.

Decent shot, though, wasn't it?

Meat of the bat behind it and everything.

That was his chinaman and/or googly as well.

I detected it in flight.

It was all footwork really. Back on my right foot and crack.

-[Shaz] You've got to kiss her. -What?

You've got to bloody kiss her!

Who?

"Antoine dismisses Roland with a confident smile.

"Antoine:

"'Never again will I tread that path.

"'I've seen the light, Roland.

"'The light of truth in what's happened

"'and the light of love in your fiancee's eyes.

"'Love for me.'

"He strides towards Lady Daphne,

"takes her in his arms and kisses her."

Ann Lawton's playing Lady Daphne, isn't she?

[Shaz] Well, you've to bloody kiss her.

Have I?

"Take her in his arms and kisses her.

"'Antoine, with that kiss, you now are mine.

"'And I no longer a philanderer.' Cut!"

Ugh... smelly Lawton.

They can't make me.

It's in black and white.

Just my sodding luck.

-I'm not having it. -Come on.

I'll get a hundred tonight. You watch.

-How many am I now? -Seven.

I'll get a bloody hundred.

[commentator] Duckworth, brandishing his bat,

means business.

Miller, looking a little subdued,

runs up, bowls,

and Duckworth plays it through mid-off.

"'I've seen the light, Jones.

"'The light of truth in what's happened.

"'And the light of love in your fiancé's eyes.

"'Love for me.'

"Antoine strides towards Lady Daphne,

"takes her in his arms and kisses her."

"Antoine strides towards Lady Daphne,

"takes her in his arms, and..."

Oh, God. Oh, God.

You don't often move in mysterious ways.

He takes her in his arms, and...

[cheerful music playing]

Is there...

Stone me.

The wanderer returns.

I thought you'd gone into hibernation or something.

Uh, no. Can I have a--

I thought it's either that or he's emigrated.

It's not normal, I thought.

All these weeks without...

Cod and chips, haddock and chips,

skate and chips,

salt and vinegar, All in the same bag, please.

Sorry?

All in one together. You can just lump them.

Sorry?

Triple amalgamatory edibles.

No need to worry, had I?

You're as normal as ever.

Cod and chips, haddock and chips,

skate and chips.

All in one bagginess.

[Ann] My fiancé tells me you are a stranger

in St Albans, Mr. Coveney.

[Alan] I'd be grateful if you call me Antoine, my dear.

[Miss Land] Duckworth, you're mumbling.

[Alan shouting] I'd be grateful

if you'd call me Antoine, my dear!

She's not in Australia, Duckworth.

Try halfway. Madagascar.

I'd be grateful if you'd call me Antoine,

my dear.

Calling you Antoine might be deemed

a little familiar, Mr. Coveney.

You calling me, my dear, is excessively so.

She storms from the drawing room.

Storms and not shuffles,

and people don't storm anywhere

while sucking their finger.

I was just trying to push the skin down, Miss,

to make the cuticle bigger.

Are big cuticles in the play?

No. In real life, Miss.

Ann, just storm from the drawing room

as the author requires.

Thank you. Continue.

[bucket clattering]

Continue.

I fear your intended

is somewhat displeased with me, Rollins.

Oh, Christ.

Number one, say the line to Geoffrey,

not your armpit.

And number two, the fact that she's displeased with you

is immaterial to you.

You're a philanderer, a grown man,

a man of the world.

You're amused that she's upset.

Doesn't make sense, Miss.

Perfect sense, Duckworth,

is precisely what grown men are like.

It's extremely perceptive writing.

Proceed.

I fear your intended

is somewhat displeased with me, Rollins.

I suggest you leave St Albans

on the morning charabanc, Coveney.

I know of your notorious, nay, nefarious exploits in London.

Of the safes you robbed of diamonds,

of the ladies you've robbed of repute,

of the hearts you've robbed of happiness.

[laughs scornfully]

Good. Now, as well as laughing scornfully, Duckworth,

if you... [gasps]

[chuckles]

Look, I'm sorry about this.

I'm suddenly not feeling too well all of a sudden,

I'm sorry to say.

So we'll stop the rehearsal there and carry on on Wednesday.

So if you'll all excuse me.

[jaunty music playing]

Well, in my considered opinion, it will be 159 years

before we're ready to act in front of the whole school.

Today was a short rehearsal, that's all. We'll be okay.

159 years minimum.

You do drip, don't you?

-No. -Not much.

I think we're doing hot diggity dog.

-I do. -I do.

By Wednesday, I'm going to know the first scene by heart.

-I am. -Me too.

See you on the morrow then.

Sir.

Unless you want to go train spotting or anything tonight.

Sorry, I'm learning my part.

Oh, yes.

Don't you go that way?

Errand for my dad. ...

-Where? -Palmerston Avenue way.

I live down Palmerston.

Uh-huh.

See you then.

P'tang, Yang, Kipperbang. Uh!

I don't do P'tang yang kipperbang.

Uh! Sorry.

-Mañana. -Mañana.

[both] Mañana is not soon enough for me.

I loathe and detest all that P'tang verbosity drivel.

-Pardon? -You and your crackpot pals.

Long, stupid words that don't mean anything.

Crepuscular dimensions. Incandescent geography.

It's only in fun. It's a joke.

Jocularity undimini.

I wasn't really dripping.

All I meant was, we're only on page four.

It was our first rehearsal.

Yes, yes, granted, it was definitely.

But there's 51 pages altogether before we get to the end.

So what?

Just that I'll be happier when we're on page 51.

You just want it over with?

No. Just to be on the last page, that's all.

And I know why.

-You do? -Of course I do.

It's perfectly obvious. Because you're a drip.

[commentator] Duckworth ends in trouble yet again.

And as the teams go in for tea,

there's precious little going right for him.

Every time he's about to get a grip on the game,

Lindwall seems to have the last word.

Disconsolate now, discouraged,

deeply depressed at the immensity of his task,

he trudges back to the pavilion.

But surely he must take heart that he's still not out,

that he still has the chance to grit his teeth

and try again.

Are you sure?

-Don't I look it? -Oh, Miss Land.

[laughing]

God, I've forgotten what it was like to laugh.

Oh, I feel so... I feel...

I don't know what to do with myself.

-I feel so... -Me too, me too.

Oh, the relief, the sheer...

Oh, God. Thank you.

It's over. It's all over.

Now we can stop seeing each other.

Never see each other again!

Oh, Tommy, it's all over, isn't it?

I don't know whether to sing or dance or...

[Miss Land] Are you free on Sunday night?

[Tommy] I'll be at Evensong.

[Miss Land] After Evensong.

[Tommy] Oh, Miss Land.

Very good.

Whereupon you dismiss him with a confident smile.

A confident one, Duckworth.

Do you know how to be confident?

I think the author would like it.

Is that it? I see.

Well, the author will have to be disappointed.

Consider yourself dismissed, Whitaker,

with a confident smile.

Continue, Duckworth.

Never again will I tread that path.

I've seen the light, Rollins.

The light of truth in what's happened.

-And the light-- -And turn to Lady Daphne.

Who by now should be upstage.

Sorry. No, downstage. Continue.

And the light of love.

My fiancé's eyes, love for me.

[Miss Land] And walk towards her.

Good. At which point you take her in your arms,

kiss her, do the line about

now she's yours, and you're no longer a philanderer.

Good. Rehearsals again on Friday at 4:00.

Um...

Yes, Duckworth?

Aren't we going to actually...

To actually what, Duckworth? It's 5:00.

No, it's all right then. It doesn't matter.

What the devil do you mean, you blaggard?

Precisely what you fear I mean, sir.

I've been searching the earth

for its most precious diamond

and found it here.

Not in Lady Daphne's necklace, but in her heart.

"He dismisses him with a confident smile."

I've seen the light drawings.

No, you missed a sentence.

I will never tread that path again.

I will never tread that path again.

I've seen the light, Rollins.

-The light of love... -The light of truth.

The light of truth in what's happened.

And the light of love in your fiancé's eyes.

Love for me.

Then you stride over to her,

take her in your arms and...

[retching]

Puke vomit.

Spewocity up throw.

That's stupid, that!

Long drivel words don't mean anything.

It's crackpot talk.

He's getting more like my Auntie Phyllis every day.

It's the strain of learning his lines.

Either that or he's been overdoing it.

Overdoing it? It can't make you go

like your Auntie Phyllis, can it?

And the light of love in your fiancé's eyes.

Love for me.

What on earth are you doing?

-Drying my lips, Miss. -Well, don't.

Something faintly not very nice about it.

Just kiss her with your ordinary lips.

But when they're dry it makes them all bare, Miss.

Just kiss her.

Yes, Miss.

-Please, Miss? -Yes, Whitaker?

You said I could go early today on account of

three fillings at the dentist.

Oh, yes. Quite right, so I did.

Off you pop, everyone. Home time.

But Miss...

Complaining again, Duckworth.

We're still here, miss.

Miss, we've never done this last bit, miss.

We'll be doing it on Monday, Duckworth.

For our friends.

That's the day itself, Miss.

The real thing.

That's right, Duckworth.

[commentator] Now, this really is becoming quite uncanny.

Once more, Duckworth is left frustrated

and forlorn at the wicket.

Just as he was shaping up for a match-winning six,

the umpires have stopped play for bad light.

He's obviously prepared to play on till midnight,

but the Aussies are trooping off the pitch.

And so now is Duckworth.

Still determined, though a little desperately,

one suspects, to stay in the game.

See you then.

Hope all goes hot diggity at the dentist.

Set.

-Mañana. -Mañana.

[both] Mañana's not soon enough for me.

You're going on are known for your dad again, are you?

Definitely.

You do a lot of errands for your dad, don't you?

Down at Palmerston.

A fair amount.

See you outside the Odeon, Saturday.

[cheerful music playing]

[Alan] Well, in my considered opinion...

In my considered opinion,

Antoine probably wanted to kiss Lady Daphne

right at the start.

No, he didn't. At the start,

all he wants to do is pinch her jewelry.

Yes. Yes, he does.

But when he discovers it's Rollins

who's the real criminal,

and to save her from his vile clutches,

I think what he does is dream of them.

Quack Quack, Antoine Coveney is a real man.

Lady Daphne's but a mere woman.

He does whatever he wants to do. Just does it.

-No messing. -Definitely.

Real men don't mess about dreaming.

[Alan] Good God.

And the light of love in your fiancé's eyes.

Love for me.

[Alan's mother] Alan!

What's your dinner doing in the dog's bowl?

Are you starting your Mahatma Gandhi again?

[commentator] So then, with England so near, yet so far,

play is interrupted yet again.

The news paddled over the puddles from the pavilion

is that the umpires will inspect the wicket at 1:30

if there's no more rain before lunch,

in which case, play will resume at 2:00.

Unless, of course, there's rain between 1:30 and 2:00.

In which case they'll inspect the wicket at 3:00.

So once again, and quite rightly too,

the answer lies in the heavens.

[grand orchestral music playing]

[indistinct chatting]

Duckworth.

[music stops]

Now go.

[children laughing]

[shushing]

Good afternoon, Daphne.

Charles, dearest, I didn't expect you till tea time.

I know, my dear, but this is more than a visit

from a doting fiancée.

As you know, I'm the chief magistrate of St Albans.

[Ann] A pillar of our society, Charles.

The whole of Hertfordshire respects you.

I, for my part, respect you. And more.

Thank you, dearest.

[giggling]

In my official capacity,

police inform me that an unscrupulous criminal

from London has been seen motoring

in his Alvis Coupe up the A1.

A gentlemen diamond thief,

notorious for winning the hearts of ladies

only to steal their jewels.

[doorbell chimes]

Goodness me, Charles. You've made me jumpy.

I wonder who that can be.

It's a chap whose car's broken down outside the manor.

Seems a decent sort of cove.

I said he could join us till I phoned the garage for him.

Ah, here he is now.

[children laughing]

[both] P'tang yang kipperbang. Uh!

[Geoffrey] To my fiancé, the honorable lady Daphne.

Charmed to make your acquaintance, Lady Daphne.

What a delightful home you have.

[Ann] Thank you.

Have you many friends in these parts?

The Hertfordshire Caldecotts were old friends of my family

until they returned to Pretoria.

Colonel Caldecott and I shot grouse together in Scotland.

Never seem to have heard of a Colonel Caldecott.

[Alan] Really?

He tells me he knows you extremely well.

I'm certain he would be delighted to meet

your charming fiancée.

Thank you, Mr. Coveney. You are most gallant.

Do you know Hertfordshire well?

What can I do for you, Sergeant?

I'm making some inquiries, sir.

Well, that's him over there.

Thank you. Thank you very much, sir.

[somber music playing]

Goodness me,

so pleasant and urbane has been our conversation

that I quite forgot to telephone the garage for you.

Tell me, what make of car have you, Mr. Coveney?

It's an Alvis.

An Alvis coupe.

[children exclaiming]

Never again will I tread that path.

I've seen the light drawings.

The light of truth in what's happened.

And the light of love in your fiancé's eyes.

Love for me.

[commentator] Now let's try and be calm about this.

England are just one run short

of the greatest victory of all time.

Young Duckworth, 364 not out

has equaled Len Hutton's world record

and now he's facing the very last ball of the match

and Lindwall bowls it.

[boy whistling]

And Duckworth... And Duckworth...

And Duckworth...

Kiss her.

[music swells]

Kiss her. Come on.

For with that kiss, you are now mine.

And I no longer a philanderer.

Close them.

Never in the entire history

-of school drama, -[audience clapping]

all the years have been ruined, completely ruined.

Weeks of rehearsal, the whole play.

Whatever possessed you!

[all clapping]

I mean, imagine Victor Mature seeing the light of love

in Hedy Lamarr's eyes and just standing there

and just standing there like a twerp,

-while choirs of angels-- -Stop it, Geoffrey.

If you never wanted to kiss her,

you should have said so right at the start.

And we'd have got someone who would have quite liked to.

You're a weed and a mess of a lolloper.

Duck with you, lollop.

Excuse me, Miss Land.

I'm sorry about the end, headmaster. Duckworth here...

If I could just borrow you for a moment.

Oh.

Miss Land, something's happened.

It appears that young Tommy, the groundsman,

it appears he was a deserter in the war.

[policeman] Just three weeks after he was called up, ma'am.

And now he's just been...

Well, arrested, really.

To be handed over to a military police escort

and taken for court martial.

He requested if I'd be kind enough, ma'am,

to pass a message on to you.

Why me?

Well, I've only ever said good morning.

Well, it's not for you in particular, ma'am.

Sorry.

He said there's a boy in your class by the name of Duckworth,

and he said,

"Whatever he hears,

"ask him not to think too bad of me,

"owing to me not being the hero he thought I was."

That's all, ma'am.

It's the dichotomy between appearance and reality again,

I suppose, Miss Land,

with the whole Shakespearian canon.

Miss Land is our English expert.

Oh, yes.

Well...

I'll escort you to your car, Sergeant.

Thank you, sir. And thank you, ma'am.

-Thank you. -Not at all.

Incidentally, Sergeant,

I'm a miss, not a ma'am.

For your information.

Right, Miss.

Duckworth.

Why, though, Quack Quack?

Why didn't you do the kiss?

You haven't said why.

Did you just forget?

He only forgot three whole lines on page 20

about may he look at your bracelet,

owing to him being a jewelry expert,

till I prompted him.

I'll say mañana then.

I mean, there must be a reason.

Everything has a reason.

I said, I'll say mañana then.

You can walk me home if you like.

Mañana.

All right.

Mañana is not soon enough for me.

What do you think was the reason?

I don't know.

You don't know much then, do you?

No. I don't. I know nothing.

I used to think I knew everything about everything.

The world and that, but I don't.

Maybe I got it wrong.

Got what wrong?

Everything.

Tommy, the world.

Maybe it's all lies.

What is?

Everything I thought about everything.

You're shivering.

Yes.

Maybe you're seeking for something.

Maybe.

A few weeks ago, I tread on a big fat spider

and hundreds of little ones came running out of it.

I thought it was perhaps a miracle.

Do you know about a miracle?

-It was sudden, cruel. -Accidental.

Oh.

It must just have been pregnant.

You just gave it a sort of caesarean.

Oh, I see.

I don't think it'll have been a miracle.

It's just nature, really.

Yes.

Except nature is a miracle, isn't it?

Yes.

I forgot that.

Yes, it is, supposedly.

Why didn't you want to kiss me?

Am I that grotesque to the Nth degree?

You're beautiful, Ann.

Sometimes I look at you

and you're so beautiful I want to cry.

And sometimes you look so beautiful,

that it makes me want to laugh and jump up and down

and run through the streets with no clothes on, shouting,

P'tang yang kipperbang in people's letterboxes.

But mostly you're so beautiful.

Even if it doesn't make me cry,

it makes my chest cry.

And your lips are the most beautiful.

Second is your nape.

My what?

The back of your neck. It's termed "the nape".

Oh, my nape.

And your skin.

When I walk past your desk,

I breathe in on purpose to smell your skin.

It's the most beautiful smell there is.

It's only Yardleys.

It makes me feel dizzy. Giddy.

You smell brand new.

You look brand new, all of you.

The little soft hairs in your arms.

That's down. It's not hairs.

It's called down. Girls can have down.

But mostly it's your lips.

That's why I've always wanted to kiss you.

Ever since 3B.

Just kiss,

not the other things.

I don't want to do the other things to you.

Well, I do.

All the other things.

Sometimes I want to do them with so much of feeling.

Um...

Thank you.

I've always wanted to tell you you were lovely.

Personally, I always think it's dead beauty

when Victor Mature or someone says a girl's lovely.

But you are.

And I know girls think it's weedy

when boys call them sweet.

But you are.

I don't suppose I'll ever kiss you now in my whole life.

Or take you to the pictures,

or marry you and do the other things to you.

But I'll never forget how you made me feel.

Even when I'm 50 or something.

Why didn't you kiss me then?

It's like cricketers.

Well, I mean, it isn't like cricketers.

Cyril Washbrook or Denis Compton or any of them.

They face the bowler

and there are thousands of people watching.

Their families and friends, all the Australian fielders,

the umpires, John Arlott.

And thousands of total strangers.

But they don't care.

Just keep their eye on the ball and play their stroke.

I don't know how they do it.

I couldn't.

[tender music playing]

Would you like to kiss me now?

No one's watching.

Why not?

I'm sorry.

It's too late.

It isn't even 5:00.

I don't mean like that.

Things are different now.

Why?

What things?

You see your writing.

Real men don't mess about dreaming.

I could kiss you.

But it won't be like I dreamt it'd be.

I know it won't.

Nothing is.

Kids kid themselves.

I think you won't kiss me because I said you could.

-Cause now I want you to. -Is that what happened?

You're just being sodding cruel again.

Only this time on purpose.

Don't cry.

I used to cry. Even in my sleep.

I won't any more though.

I've packed in crying.

Would you like to say P'tang yang kipperbang?

My favorite words are yellow ocher,

... and crimson ale.

Very nice.

See you tomorrow.

Alan.

For good luck, that's all.

[commentator] And Duckworth... And Duckworth has done it.

He glances the ball calmly past fine short leg for a single.

England have won the most dramatic victory

in the history of cricket.

And for that record breaking 365 not out that won it,

the entire crowd, and I wager the entire nation

rises to its feet in homage

to Quack Quack Duckworth,

who went to the wicket a boy

and came back a man.

He'll be starting shaving next.

Then spending the rest of his life

trying to stop the bleeding.

[choir singing "All Things Bright and Beautiful"]

[jaunty music playing]