All language subtitles for Newhart_S08E07

[♪♪♪]

- Say, Dick-nick...

who do you think
is more important?

A chiropractor
making six figures

or a well-connected taxidermist?

- Well, it depends
on whether I have

a bad back
or a dead bear.

Why?

- Well, we're picking
potential godfathers

for our little
prodigy in progress.

- So far, we've narrowed
the "A" list down to 85

of our most prominent
friends and relations.

- Would you like to know
where you stand

on the latest Harris poll?

Let's see, Loudon, Loudon.

- Michael, you're forgetting
Dick didn't make the second cut.

- Right.

But you did make the "B" list.

See?

- Dick.

- So then Prince Philip turns to
his trusty butler and he says,

"You idiot, I told you
to make the Queen rum,

not make the Queen mum."

- Ha, ha, ha, ha!

- Oh, you got that one,
did you, George?

- Not even close.

- Oh, does this mean I'm losing
my favorite chess partner?

- Oh, I'm afraid
that's a check, mate.

- Well, since I can't
change your mind,

I'll total your bill.

You know, I-I really enjoyed
that story you told

about Prince Albert and the can.

I mean, I....

You know, I was sure that,
you know, you meant tobacco.

- Oh, ha-ha-ha-ha.

- Here you go.

- Oh, I say, I seem to
be rather low on funds.

- That's all right, we take
credit cards, traveler's checks,

gold bullion.

- I seem to be rather low
on everything.

- Reginald.

Dick, you're not letting him
get away, are you?

- Not if I can stop him.

- Reginald is stiffing you
on the bill.

- Oh, I'm sure this is just
another one of Reginald's jokes,

like that one
you told about Fergie,

when she couldn't pay her bill
at that spa in Brighton.

- Oh yes, yes, dear Fergie.

Yeah,
she may be short of pounds,

but she's certainly
not short of pounds.

- I want my 800 bucks.

- Oh yes, well, I'm sure there's
something we can do about--

I've got it.

For you, my good host.

- Well, I'm very flattered,

but I'm--I'm pretty happy
with Joanna.

- I'm available.

Oh, sure, I make a joke
and nobody laughs.

- What--what--what is this?

- It represents my claim
to a British lordship.

It's legitimate,
I assure you.

Here, the paperwork seems to be
in order, I believe. What?

- Well, it's a--it's a
very pretty ring,

but I couldn't help
noticing your gold Rolex.

- I don't believe you're
grasping the import here,

old thing.

You see, from this day forth,

you're no longer
a humble little innkeeper.

You are Richard Loudon,
Lord of Stumpworth-on-Thames.

Well, must dash.

Oh, welcome to British nobility,
Richard,

or rather, Your Lordship.

- Well, I think
we just got the shaft.

- Yes, but the royal one.

- I get that.

- It's not a joke, George.
- Oh.

- Hi, I'm Larry,
this is my brother Darryl

and this is my other--huh?

My other brother Darryl
has cut short my intro

due to his astonishment
in seeing the signet ring

of the Lord of
Stumpworth-on-Thames.

- How did you know?

- Darryl minored
in royal genealogy

when he was on his rowing
scholarship at Oxford.

- Funny, I-I always had Darryl
pegged as a-a Cambridge man.

- No, that was Darryl here.

Imagine the ribbing
my brothers gave me

when I ended up going to
Montpellier Trade Tech.

- Darryl,
I can't believe I'm asking,

but can you tell
if this is authentic?

- It's legit, all right.

Darryl would recognize
the Queen's tea stains anywhere.

- So I really am the Lord
of Stumpworth-on-Thames?

- You may be a lord, Dick,
but you put your overalls on

one strap at a time,
just like the rest of us.

- I-I don't wear overalls,
George.

- Too good, huh?

- You know, it might be
kind of fun being Lady Loudon.

- I-I'm not sure, you know,
if--if my being a lord,

you know, makes--makes you
a lady.

I mean, you know,
technically speaking.

- But we could still call me
Lady Loudon just for fun, right?

- Oh, we could.

But that would be wrong.

- Michael, tell them
the good news or I'll explode.

- After whittling away
at our "A" list,

we're ecstatic to announce that
Baby X's new god-padre is...

- My Great Uncle Ta-Ta.

- Ta-Ta?
- Yes, Ta-Ta.

- Not only is he well heeled
and well preserved,

he's Steph's only unindicted
male relative.

- He's been
lonely and miserable

holed up for years
in that old dark mansion,

but when I told him
the wonderful news,

he took a big hit of oxygen
and wept tears of joy.

- Well, he sounds
like a happy Ta-Ta.

- Carry me back
to old Wisconsin,

there's mucho mozzarella
on that pie.

- Extra cheese
from Mama Varicella.

What are you,
royalty or something?

- I was just made
a British lord,

but it's no big deal
and please don't bow or curtsey.

- He's pulling your
newly waxed leg, lambskin.

They don't give
genuine lordships

to just any old doofus.

- Dick is not just
any old doofus.

- Reggie couldn't pay his bill,

so he stuck me
with this stupid title.

- So, does this make you
Lady Loudon?

- You would think so,
wouldn't you?

- She, uh, she lost--lost out
on a technicality.

- Was it your hair?

- No!

- Calling all Harrises.

Congrats, Lord Loudon.

After agonizing deliberation,

we've selected you as god-poppy
to our prized prodigy.

- We're so happy for you.

- Well, what a wonderful
and incredibly shallow gesture.

- Thank you.
- We thought so.

- Won't this upset your Ta-Ta
when you tell him?

- She's right.

Unless
this is handled delicately,

it could crush
the very life out of him.

- We won't tell him.

We'll fax him the news
first thing tomorrow morning.

- You're a softie, you know it?

- Well, your lovable lordship,

we bid you a royal farewell
and for you, Joanna,

a generic nighty-night
should suffice.

- A generic nighty-night
back at you.

- Don't you want to say
goodnight

to your future godchild?

- G-Goodnight, kid.

- There, you see,
I told you I smelled pizza.

- Oh, you're always
smelling pizza.

- We'd like to
request an audience

with Richard Loudon,
Lord of Stumpworth-on-Thames.

- Look, w-will you give
the bowing a rest?

Wh-What do you want?

- Well, we'd like Your Highness
to use his royal wisdom

to settle a dispute.

Chester thinks it's time
for me to get a haircut,

but I disagree.

- Oh, grab a mirror, Jim.

You look like one of those
ragamuffin MTV punks.

- Admit it, Chester.

You're just jealous
of my boyish appearance.

- This is idiotic.
I'm no barber.

- We know, you're a lord.

We're waiting, Your Lordship.

- I think you could use
a little trim.

- There, you see, Jim?

Now, before we waste the rest
of a perfectly good evening,

let's go back to your house and
finish that game of Battleship.

I'm going to destroy your fleet
if it takes me all night.

- I'll meet you in the car.

I'm awaiting a decision
on my sideburns.

- You know, Jim,
this is getting kind of sad.

- Well, actually, that was just
a device to get you alone.

- And an ingenious one.

- Well, here's the skinny.

Have you heard about
the bait and tackle shop

that's opening this weekend?

- Who hasn't?

It's been the lead story
in the news all week.

- We had a secret meeting
of the town council today

and we voted for you,
our beloved Lord Loudon,

to do the ribbon cutting honors.

- Isn't that
one of the mayor's jobs?

- Well, this is too big
for a mayor.

This is Vermont's first
in-mall live bait shop.

Boy, you know what that means?

- Yeah, it--it isn't outside...

which is where
a live bait shop should be.

- Then you'll do it.

Oh, hot dog!

I hope we can also count on
Lady Loudon's presence?

- I'm sure Mrs. Loudon
might tag along.

- Boy, what a coup!

- Well, this is
going to destroy Chester.

He became mayor
just so he could cut ribbons.

- Honey, what can I do?
Th-The people have spoken.

My people have spoken.

- Oh, my Lord.

- You, uh, you can still
call me Dick.

- What's with the new suit?

- Well, Giuseppe, the tailor,
thought that I should wear

something more befitting
my station at the...

at the ribbon cutting.

- You bought a custom-made suit?

- It--it was free,
but I'm--I'm letting Giuseppe

hang a sign above his shop
that says,

"I'm-a the guy that made-a
the nice suit for Lord Dick."

- A spot of tea, My Lord?

- I wouldn't mind a spot.

H-Hit me.

- A spot of tea?
You hate tea.

- I know, but I just feel
I should be doing

something very British-y.

- Before I fetch
M'Lord his scones,

might I pick his royal brain?

- Pick away, my child.

- Michael and I were hoping
you could help us elect

a suitable godmother.

- What about Joanna?

- Get real, Your Highness.

A lord for godfather

and a common wench
for godmother?

- Couldn't you just pretend
that Joanna was--was a lady?

- I suppose,
but that would be wrong.

- Well, I guess it's time
for this common wench

to go milk the cows
and sing some bawdy songs.

- She's simple, but good folk.

- Anyway, if it's not a bother,

I was wondering if you could
call the Queen of England

and ask her to be
our baby's godmother.

- Well, I don't know that the
Queen would want to talk to--

what--what am I saying?

I mean, we are both noble.

- Thank you.

I'll see to your scones now.

Long live you, M'Lord.

- And long live you too.

- What--what--what is that?

- The royal wave.

- Ah!

- Want to know where I've been
all morning?

Listening to Chester
spill his guts

about this ribbon cutting thing.

- He-He's that upset, huh?

- No Dick, he's spilling
his guts in a happy way.

What a twit.

Thanks to you, my old pal
Chester's a broken mayor.

It may sound silly,
Your Fancy-Pants Lordship,

but he loves cutting ribbons

the way other men love
greasing their snowblowers.

What the hell are you doing?

- Just practicing
the royal wave.

- Boy, stick a fork in you
'cause you are done.

- Wow, he's practicing
his royal wave.

- No, no, I just had a kink.

- Well, we came to escort you
to the grand event.

Your townspeople await
your royal arrival.

- I love your feet.

- You know, they--they get me
around.

- You remember Mr. Resnick
from the Circus of Shoes.

- I come bearing
complementary footwear.

Would you allow me to
slip them on the royal feet?

- What the hay?

- Eight and a half, triple D,
same width as Maggie Thatcher.

There we go,
our top of the line

Korean made imitation
leather-like wingtips.

How do they feel?

- Almost like real shoes.

- Yeah, most people can't tell
the difference,

'til they get them wet.

- After you, My Lord.

- A coach and a dozen ponies
await.

- Look guys, don't you think
you're going a little overboard?

I mean, you know, it's just
a simple ribbon snipping.

- He does understand
this is an in-mall bait shop?

- Well, I thought he did.

I hope you're not backing out.

The whole town's turned out
for your speech.

- I-I didn't prepare a speech.

- Oh! Well, your presence alone
will be enough.

Just...just say hello,
tell a few jokes,

and you're out.

- Okay.

Are these shoes supposed to
stick to the floor like this?

- Guess the paint
hasn't dried yet.

- I saw a beautiful
coach outside.

I've always dreamed
of riding in a coach.

- Yeah, well,
keep dreaming, woman.

This coach is SRO,
Stratford Royalty Only.

- I suppose we couldn't pretend
I was royalty?

- Well, we could--
BOTH: But that would be wrong.

[CROWD CHATTER]

- Fresh paint, watch the shoes!

Watch the shoes!

- Wow, what a noisy throng.

Look, can you quiet down,
please?

[CROWD CHATTER]

- Hey! Hey, don't make me
come out there, people.

- I give you Richard Loudon,
Lord of Stumpworth-on-Thames.

- Thank you,
and hello--hello, everybody.

- Hello, Lord.

[CROWD LAUGHS]

- I'd like to welcome you all
to the--the grand opening

of this lovely live bait shop.

[APPLAUSE]

I-I didn't--didn't really
prepare a speech or anything.

You know, I just thought
I was going to cut a ribbon.

I don't know, would anyone
like--like to hear a-a joke?

- Yes!

- Okay.

A couple of guys walk--walk
in to, uh, no, I'm sorry.

It's one--one guy walks
into a--into a tobacco shop

and he asks if--if they have
Prince Albert tobacco.

No, no, he, uh, asks if they
have Prince Albert in the can.

Yeah, that's--that's it,

and the shop owner says
that, uh, that they do,

and--and then the
other guy, you know,

the guy--the guy that walked
into the shop, he says,

"Well, y-you better let him out,

he probably can't
breathe in there."

[LAUGHTER]

I-I knew that one would go over.

Well, I guess it's time
to cut the ribbon.

- Tell another joke!

- All right.

It seems that dear Fergie went
to this fat farm in Brighton

and she couldn't--she couldn't
pay her bill.

I can't remember
the stuff in between,

but the--the--the punchline
is something like,

she--she may be short of pounds,

but she certainly
isn't sh-short of pounds.

- Is that a true story
about Sarah Ferguson?

- No, it's a--it's a joke.

- Oh.
- So what are you doing, Loudon?

Making fun of fat people?

- I thought--I thought
you'd like royal--royal jokes.

- You're the royal joke.

- Hey, listen, why don't I
just--I'll just cut the ribbon.

- He slams the royal family

and still thinks
he's going to cut the ribbon?

Who does he think he is?

- What are we going to do?

If nobody cuts the ribbon,
how do we get in the store?

- Let's go in through the roof.

- ALL: Yeah.

- No need for that.

[CROWD CHEERS]

I'll cut the ribbon.
- [CROWD CHEERS]

- Chester,
please fire this lord.

- You can't fire a monarch.

He either has to
abdicate his throne

or have his head cut off.

- Well, since we don't know
what abdicate means...

- I-I don't get it.

I mean, one minute
you're bowing to me

and then I-I tell a few jokes

and--and you turn on me
like a pack of rabid dogs.

What's wrong with you people?

- Well, we're
a fickle little town.

[CROWD AGREES]

- Come on, Chester.
Cut the ribbon.

- Well, here goes.

[CROWD CHEERING]

Now let's all get in there
and buy some bait.

- Honey, wh-where are you going?

I mean, aren't you--aren't you
going to stay here with me?

- I'd rather eat bait, Lord.

- See, I told you
they'd have refreshments.

- You scuff 'em, you bought 'em.

- Well, it's like
the old saying.

"What goes around comes around."

- Here George,
want to be a lord?

- Do I?

Hey, everybody.
Look at me, I'm a lord.

I'm a lord.

[APPLAUSE]

[♪♪♪]

- Meow!