Original subtitles

(thunder)

(whistling tune)

(whistling continues)

(thunder rumbles)

- MAN: Professor Barkley, run it past me again.

- BARKLEY: Soldier scans the skies above ground,

they alert us to the air raid.

we fire up the Abexitron and jam their communications.

The Gerrys won't know right from left.

- Won't it interfere with our own radios?

- No, it'll only block the frequency it's sent to.

- What Hitler wouldn't give to get his filthy Nazi mitts on this.

(whistling tune)

(thunder)

Good God.

Come on, Professor Barkley, pick up.

(engines roaring)

One, five, nine, seven.

- One, five, nine, seven. - One, five, nine, seven.

- Is this a test? - No, this is the real thing!

- (siren blaring) - This is the real--

(screaming)

- (screaming) - (ticking)

- Is it meant to do that?

(siren blaring)

- Private Atkins? Private Atkins?

Alfie? Are you there?

(indistinct radio transmission)

- One, five, nine, seven. - Alfie?

Professor!

- ...nine, seven.

One, five, nine, seven.

(siren blaring)

- One, five, nine, seven.

One, five, nine, seven.

♪♪

(gasp)

(panting)

- Okay, I don't think I'm ready for this.

- You could've just had toast. - No, not the breakfast,

what happened at Miss Connelly's.

- Elton, I've been a paranormal investigator

for 20 years.

I've never seen anything like we saw yesterday.

The spirit dog, number five.

This could finally get me into "The White Sheet."

- What's "The White Sheets?" - No, no, no, "The White Sheets" is a Neo Nazi magazine.

"The White Sheet" is a magazine about the paranormal.

Two very different things. Never the twain shall meet.

Unless, of course, you count the time

someone spotted the ghost of Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring

up on Tulse Hill.

Yeah, it set the paranormal world on fire.

♪♪

- GUS: You ready for your second day?

- I'm not ready for my first day.

Uhh...

- GUS: Here we go.

- A crisp? - What flavor?

- Uh, prawn cocktail. - Ugh, no.

- Suit yourself. Mm.

(engine starts)

- ELTON: Listen, can we not have another day like yesterday?

- GUS: Relax. It's not like every place we go

is gonna be haunted.

- Sorry. Did you say haunted?

- I did. Yes.

Britain's most haunted three-star hotel,

The Portland Beacon.

Now, I thought that might peak your interest, Gus.

- It's nothing but a cheap tourist draw, believe me.

I-- I've looked into it.

- (chuckles) Thorough as ever.

That is why you are my number one installer, Gus.

- Ah, mea culpa.

- And you, mister, are my number... 28?

- Not-- Not bad. - (phone rings)

I have to take this because, uh,

I'm breaking in a new assistant.

- Take the day off, Dave. You're never not here, are you?

- (chuckles) Get out of here.

Hello, Smyle, Dave speaking.

(distortion)

Hello?

(distortion)

Hello-- Bjorn, this has got--

Bjorn. Bloody-- Bjorn!

- There's no way this dump is a three-star.

- This is my home.

- Oh... It's nice.

- ELTON: You see, it's nicer when you get close.

- GUS: Just want to show you something inside.

- Can I walk on the grass? - No.

♪♪

- Elton.

♪♪

- Elton.

- Hm? - Hey, look at that.

"The White Sheet."

Okay, read this.

- "The Portland Beacon is a horror-themed dump.

"Zero ghosts, but plenty of bedbugs.

- One ghoul." There's a ghoul? - (door opens)

- No, no, they use a five ghoul rating system.

This is not gonna be another Connelly's Nook, okay?

- Who's this? - Elton John.

- Don't be facetious. - Dad, he's my new partner.

- That.

- So, uh, you off out again? - Yes, yeah. Just off to work.

While I'm out, will you not go in my study?

- It's not a study, it's the bloody dining room!

Anyway, I never come in here.

- You say that, but sometimes when I come back,

everything's kind of been touched and moved some.

- Oh, well, maybe it's a ghost.

♪♪

- (screeching) - (static)

(birds chirping)

- ELTON: Your dad seems nice.

- GUS: He's not nice, he's horrible.

- ELTON: (chuckles) - GUS: No, seriously.

(engine starts)

♪♪

MAN: (on radio)

One, five, nine, seven.

- Yeah, remind me again. Where are you from?

- Uh, Norfolk. Why? - Huh. Norfolk.

Just, uh, I hope you don't mind,

I did a little online search on you last night.

Not many Elton Johns.

Hell, there's only one other. None in Norfolk.

- Ha. I'm not really on social media, so--

- Well, you're not-- not really on anywhere, are you?

- (chuckles) No.

Who was that woman in the picture?

- It was, uh, my wife, Emily.

- She looks nice. Love to meet her.

- She died.

- Oh. Sorry, man.

Sorry.

What happened?

- It's complicated.

- MAN: (on radio) One, five, nine, seven. - (phone rings)

- Helie? What's wrong?

- My costume for CovCo CosCon.

It's next week and it's not even ready yet.

- Okay, Helie, what'd you need?

- A plunger.

- You haven't blocked the toilet again, have you?

- For my costume.

- Oh, come on, Helen.

Try going to the shop, it's only a couple doors down.

- Yeah, right, yeah. Just send the agoraphobe

down a busy High Street.

Oh, yeah, look out for me on the news tonight.

- Okay, I'll get it. I'll get it.

- Okay. Okay.

- Bye.

- Is that your wife?

- Ugh, no, it's my sister.

- She okay? - Yeah.

She's quite an anxious person. A bit fragile.

And angry.

She hasn't always been like that, though.

- What happened?

- It's complicated.

♪♪

- GUS: Behold, The Portland Beacon.

A ministry of defense research and development facility

during the second world war.

Now a seaside sideshow for weekend horror dinks.

- ELTON: So you're sure it's not haunted?

- GUS: Have to be pretty gullible to be taken in by this place.

Ah.

(bell dings)

- Hello?

Hello?

Are you looking for ghosts?

- Wifi viability.

- Oh.

- Ahh! - (man laughing)

Hello, welcome. I am Jack,

proprietor of The Portland Beacon,

the only horror themed hotel on Dorset's Jurassic Coast.

What do you think of the old eye in the painting gag?

- That-- That's new. - Very good.

- Good-- Good fun. - Oh, right. Of course.

- Lovely. Hello, uh, my name is Gus Roberts.

I'm from Smyle.

Yeah, we're here to fix your broadband.

- Oh. - Be great if I could see your router.

- Oh. There it is. - Ahh.

That is an SMR430.

I mean, in theory, you could beam a signal through

eight inches of solid lead.

- Yeah, well, that's why we got it.

This place has never had a signal.

You know, people we took over from had the same issue.

Kind of been using mobile.

- Well, let's see if we can't find out why.

- Righty-O. I shall give you the tour.

- Oh, uh, no need. - Follow me.

♪♪

"Perished loved ones who are unable to break the tie

between the world of the living and the..."

(chair powering down)

- (sighs)

♪♪

Oh, no. Don't go into my study.

Ah, what's all this rubbish?

It's my house too, you know.

Oh, yeah.

Ahh! Yaah!

(growling)

- So, this is the Amityville Lounge.

Don't have any food in here. The flies love it.

- What's that about?

- Oh, yeah, room two. Yeah, we don't let guests stay in there.

Too dangerous.

Something to do with the wiring, we think.

It's always freezing in there.

Anything you touch, you get shocked.

Weird bumps and noises all night.

- You sure it's not haunted?

- (chuckles) Oh. Yeah, well, that'd be ironic, wouldn't it?

The only room in the hotel that is haunted,

and we can't let the guests stay in there.

(laughs) Come on.

Room 237. It's a twin.

Nightmare on Elm Suite.

And over here, we have the Psycho room.

- Ha. - GUS: Read about this place.

There is absolutely no signal at all.

Rest assured, sir, I shall crack this nut.

Oh, wonderful. Cup of tea?

- Yes, please. - Yeah.

- Make 'em a tea, love.

- Love? - (screams)

- Oh, sorry, this is my wife, Wendy.

- You've ruined the scare now, haven't you?

- Just get the kettle on. - You do it.

- Right-O. - Stupid.

- Okay, I would like you to take this signal tester,

go back to the Psycho room, and prepare to run the test.

- Alone? - Not alone.

Your walkie-talkie.

You're never really alone with a walkie-talkie.

- Okay. - Bye.

(radio beeps)

All right. (sighs)

- Oh--

(sighs)

- MAN: (on radio) Help--

- (radio beeps) - Gus, is that you?

- O-- Over. - (radio beeps)

(static)

♪♪

- MAN: That-- - (gasps)

- That one's locked, I'm afraid.

- Uh, yes. I'm looking for the Psycho room.

- Oh, well, that's down there on the right.

I'm Byron, the caretaker.

Are you staying with us?

- Oh, no, no, I'm just here to fix the internet.

The signal is being blocked for some reason.

Maybe something's jamming it.

- Something like what?

- (chuckles) Daft if I know.

Toodle-oo.

- (radio beeps) - Elton, can you confirm you are in position,

and ready to run the test. Over.

- (radio beeps) - (static)

- Papa Bear to Little Bird, come back.

(electronic tune playing)

- (radio beeps) - Elton, come back to Papa Bear. Over.

- (radio beeps)

- MAN: (on radio) One, five, nine, seven.

- ELTON: Gus! - (radio beeps)

- Elton, where have you got to? - (radio beeps)

- ELTON: Gus-- (distorted)

- Say again, where are you?

- ELTON: Room two. Room two. He-- Ah!

Gus, help!

- Stay there, I'm on my way.

Elton.

- Elton. - (Elton screaming)

- Elton. Hang on, mate.

I'm just gonna find that idiot to come and open the door, okay?

- Everything all right? - (gasps) Yeah, yeah.

Just-- Just thinkin-- thinkin' about you.

You couldn't open this door for us, could you?

- Oh, no, no, no, no. Can't let you in there.

- Eh, it's all right. We're not customers.

It's not an act. It's all for safety.

- Listen. Right now, you're essentially

holding a private contractor hostage.

I've seen this kind of situation blow up real quick.

Open the door.

(keys jangling)

Well done. We're comin' in, mate.

I'll take it from here.

(light switch clicks)

- JACK: Light's not workin'.

Well, it works but bulbs kept blowing,

so, uh, we took 'em all out.

- GUS: Elton?

- Are you sure he's in here?

Because we always keep this room locked.

- Elton?

Elton?

Huh.

(screaming)

(gasping)

(breathing heavily)

- GUS: What the bloody hell are you doing?

GUS: (in video) Welcome, viewer, to the Truth Seeker.

You join me here in a place

I've come to know as Connelly's Nook...

- Oh, please.

- ...to solve the mystery...

- Pretentious nonsense.

- GUS: (in video) Join me if you dare.

- Shawshank. - (chiming)

- Hm. Must be friends. Hell's bells tells.

- To finish off, to go full Arnie,

gonna us some eye drops.

Okay? Get a nice chunk of that in there.

Whoop, see the color? Then you just...

pop it into your eye...

like this.

- Ah, there we go. - Ooh.

- HELEN: Nice and easy.

One of the reasons I like spending time on make-up

is because you're lookin' in the mirror,

and it's like you're havin' a conversation with yourself.

So in a way, I'm being sociable... with me.

- Hm. - HELEN: Done.

- I know what you mean. - HELEN: Nice and easy.

- I talk to myself sometimes. - HELEN: And that is nice.

(static)

Look out!

HELEN: (as Schwarzenegger) I'll be back next week.

Bye.

- GUS: Why did you go into room two?

- The door opened. I thought I heard something.

- Heard what?

- (whistling tune)

- Yeah. - The Lincolnshire Poacher.

When you were in there,

I heard the numbers 1, 5, 9, 7

come through on the walkie-talkie.

- Wh-- What are you saying?

- I'm saying it's time to get the exospector.

- I just don't want to go back in there.

- Something is not right.

We need to find out what it is.

- Why?

- We're truth seekers. - No, you're a truth seeker.

I'm Elton John.

(gasping)

- All right, all right, you're hyperventilating.

Shh, shh, calm.

Breathe into this bag. Just breathe.

Slowly, there might be crisps in there.

- (gagging) - (chuckles) Oh, just chew.

Chew through it. Yeah.

- (breathing heavily) They taste quite nice.

Yeah, prawn cocktail. My guilty pleasure.

(instrument beeping)

This bloody thing.

I'm gonna go out to the van and pop a fresh open, I think.

- No. - You'll be fine.

(deep breaths)

- I remember this room. - (gasps)

- I used to come in here and read my favorite book

for hours and hours.

I wonder if it's still here.

Why, yes. There it is.

(chuckles)

- Gus!

Gus!

- GUS: That's better.

What did you do?

- I didn't, the old man did it.

- What old man?

- Uh, Byron.

- Ha.

- Well, that solves the mystery of the secret door.

Shall we go home now?

- Get the camera. You ready?

Here we go.

(singsongy) Hello, ghosts.

- GUS: You all right? - ELTON: Yeah, yeah.

- GUS: I bet you what's down here...

whatever it is, is causing room two to go haywire.

- ELTON: What is this place?

- I don't know. Let's find out.

- You rolling? - ELTON: Yeah.

- Oh, let's see now.

- ELTON: Ahh! Shittin' hell.

- GUS: He must have been down here since the second world war.

- Okay. Goodness. Go back and call the police.

- Oh, why?

- We just found a dead body.

- That's not a body. It's meatless.

This is a skeleton, poor bugger.

- Shh. - (electronic tune playing)

- You hear that? - Huh?

- It's coming from in there.

(electronic tune continues)

- That's a military door.

Naval, 1940's by the looks of it.

- Don't tell me you were a submarine commander one weekend.

- Cleaner in the Imperial War Museum.

(door creaks)

(electronic tune playing)

- GUS: How are these lights on?

- MAN: Get back! - (gasps)

- MAN: You Nazi scum! - ELTON: Who said that?

MAN: Thought you could sneak up on me, didn't you?

One, five, nine, seven.

- One, five, nine, seven. - It's this machine.

- ELTON: Sounds like a man, not a machine.

MAN: Uh, the joke's on you, Fritz.

I've only got to initiate the self-destruct protocols,

and you two Gerry bastards are toast.

- Hey, we're not Gerrys. - Or bastards.

MAN: Prove it.

- My name is Gus Roberts, I'm 47 years old,

and I'm a field engineer from Sussex.

This is my colleague, Mr. Elton John.

- MAN: And where are you from?

- Leicestershire.

- (electronic tune playing) - (ticking)

- One, five, nine, seven.

MAN: Air raid! This is not a test!

- This is a number station.

I've been listening to this machine for 20 years.

MAN: I have to jam the German communications,

I have to stop their air raids.

- Listen. I read a book

by a man called Dr. Peter Toynbee,

and in it, he theorized that

the human soul could transport into other things,

places, people, objects.

I think this is what we're looking at here.

Can you tell me your name?

- MAN: Atkins, Alfred.

Private, home guard.

And that's all your getting.

- Tell me, how did you get into this machine, Alfie?

ATKINS: I was on the clock tower.

There was a storm. Uh, a German squadron,

the lightning struck.

- (thunder) - (screaming)

ATKINS: So hot and-- and bright.

- The power from the lightning transferred his soul...

inside this machine.

Toynbee was right.

- ATKINS: Mustn't let them communicate.

- He's not just jamming the obsolete radio signals.

He's jamming everything.

Wifi, 6G.

This is the source of our signal problem.

If we can somehow convince him to move on.

I think-- I think he'll help us.

- How the hell do we do that?

- We have to prove that the second world war is over.

- Um... Private Atkins, can you see us?

ATKINS: Of course I can see you.

- Look at the date on this packet of crisps.

- ATKINS: Prawn cocktail.

What kind of a future is this?

- Oh, no, they're a lot nicer than they sound, I promise.

And, let's face it, you'd be hard pushed

to find a pink bag of crisps under a fascist dictatorship.

- (laughs)

- ATKINS: Well?

- Dude, look at me.

Do you really think I'm a Nazi? This?

- ATKINS: So we won? We defeated the fascists?

- Mm... there's still a few.

There's this weird magazine called "The White Sheets,"

- it's race-- - Oh, that's--

We won.

Hitler lost, he killed himself in his bunker.

The coward. Not like you, son.

You did your duty.

And in my eyes, that makes you a friggin' hero.

- ATKINS: Am I?

'Cause I-- I was so worried that I'd let Professor Barkley down.

- Whoever this professor is, you made him proud.

You made us all proud, kid.

Hey. Maybe it's time you went home.

- ATKINS: There's a door, actually.

It wasn't here before.

- Maybe you should go through it.

- ATKINS: Permission to be dismissed.

- Private Atkins,

permission is most definitely granted.

♪♪

(powering down)

- Alfie?

(switch clicks)

- Alfie? - He's gone. Yeah?

(phone chimes)

- Well, looks like the signal's back up.

- Oh. It's Helen. - What's she want?

- The plunger.

(beeping)

- (chuckles) Oh, Gus, you little beauty.

- GUS: All right, well, I don't think you'll be having

any more problems with your wifi.

I've run a test and you're pulling down 100 megabits per second,

and that is consistent throughout the whole hotel.

- Well, that's amazing. Thanks very much.

- And, uh, any problems you were having with room two

I think have probably abated as well.

- Eh, maybe we can finally turn it into something scary.

- Oh, could you say goodbye to Byron for me?

- Who's Byron?

- The caretaker.

- Oh, you mean Mr. Barkley.

He's been here forever. Came with the hotel.

Got amnesia, didn't he, during the war.

- Yeah, the second world one.

- So he's not a ghost. - (chuckles)

- 'Course he's not a ghost.

There's no such thing as ghosts.

- Well... (chuckles) Bye-bye.

- All the best.

- ELTON: Just be a minute. - Bloody hell is he going?

(whistling tune)

- Hey. Can I ask? How much for that plunger?

- Hm? Oh. (chuckles) It's yours, old boy.

- Oh, yes. Thanks, professor.

See ya!

- Professor?

(chuckles)

(static)

- You all right?

- Yeah.

Just that, you know, I've listened to Alfie's voice

nearly every day for the past 20 years

on that number station.

Just gonna miss him, you know?

Uh, no. Leave it on.

Just in case.

Hey, why don't you drop me home?

You know, have an early night bath, bath bomb.

- Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.

Or you could come back to mine

and we can code videos for four hours for the channel.

- Yeah.

- GUS: You told me you were from Norfolk,

but then you told the machine

that you were from Leicestershire.

- ELTON: I got confused.

- GUS: Sorry but, I mean, who gets confused about

where the bloody hell they're from?

- Look, I don't want to talk about it.

I just want to be a normal person

and have a normal job.

And I don't want anything to do with ghosts ever again.

- Help! You've gotta help me.

I think I'm being chased by ghosts.

- Huh.

♪♪