All language subtitles for Good.Omens.S02E03.720p.WEB.h264-ETHEL-eng

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Ahh!

Take my advice, you won't look at it.

I've told you.

You make better coffee
when you're happier. The girls notice.

I'm perfectly happy.

That'll be your Lindsay texting again.

I don't believe my relationship
is any concern of yours.

Obviously not.

Save where it intrudes on my girls'
welfare and quality of life and coffee.

Oh, that's nice.

Somebody's got a sense of humor,
or an interesting kink.

Either way, puts a smile on your face.

Last one, double Americano
with oat milk and hazelnut syrup.

Well. Not on your face, Nina love.

Obviously.

Open up! Police!

'Ello, 'ello, 'ello!

What's all this then?

Good morning, officer.

Yes! Exactly!

I'm a human police officer.

Hmm. I thought you probably were.

Did you? Really?

Oh, wonderful.

Well, you're right. I am one.

Jolly good. And err, how can I help you?

Well, sir.

As you may know,
as a human police officer,

I can unobtrusively monitor you
without raising suspicion.

- Indeed you can.
- Great!

Well, could I come in
and do it inside please?

Only cause it's really noisy out here
and I can't hear anything.

By all means.

Cup of tea, officer?

Umm... Yes?

A human police officer would
generally accept a cup of tea.

Ah! Then so shall I.

To drink.

Ah!

You know, I think I'll just look
at mine for a while.

- As you please.
- Great!

I always say the best part
of a "cupperty" is looking at it.

This is ridiculous!

Why don't you just go by train?
You love trains.

Who's this now?

This is a human police officer

who's just popped in
to have a quick look at a cup of tea.

'Ello, 'ello, 'ello.

- Tell me, Constable...
- Inspector.

Oh... You know,
you are dressed as a constable.

Inspector Constable!

- That's my name.
- Of course it is.

First visit to Earth, is it,
by any chance?

Yes! It's amazing, isn't it? Just the...

Or rather, no.

Obviously I've been here
for, like... 200 years.

Oh! But when I said yes just then,

that was an error,
which proves that I'm human.

Of course.

Perhaps you meant
this is your first visit to London?

Yes! That's right.

I was recently transferred
to London from another...

human settlement.

Oh yeah? Which one?

Word with you, Angel, in private.

But, no! But err...
I'm supposed to observe you.

Oh, don't worry.

We can always tell you everything
we talked about afterwards.

Ah, great!

Thanks!

I don't know how you lot have managed
to stay in charge all this time.

I'm not sure we have, have we?

Where's Gabriel?
What is that angel doing here?

Jim is in his bedroom upstairs.

I told him bookshops are
always closed on a Wednesday.

As for Inspector Constable,

at a guess, they were sent
to verify the 25 Lazarii miracle

you and I seem to have accidentally
performed together the other night.

That's how you lot measure miracles?

How many times it could have brought
someone back from the dead?

And I'm very much afraid that...

that angel out there
will establish very quickly

that I lied to Heaven
about the miracle in question.

Right. Well, we just need to get Nina
to do the love thing with Maggie.

One fabulous kiss and we're good.
I have a plan.

Excellent. Can I have the car keys?

Don't you want to hear my plan?
Or, you know, go by train.

Car keys, please.

All done?

Yes! Nothing you need to worry about.

Listen, you wouldn't be interested

in humans falling in love, would you?

I... I know for some members
of the police force

it's a bit of a hobby!

Yes! Yes, I am! Oh, especially...

Maggie and Nina over the road. Ah, yes.

WELL, WE, HUMANS OF EARTH HAVE A SAYING:

you can only tell if people are in love
by waiting a few days

because humans are
weird and that's how it works.

Oh... yes! I knew that.

Well, don't hesitate to ask me

if you have any other questions
about love, Inspector... Constable.

I'll just be here helping
to run this bookshop

while my friend drives
my car to Edinburgh.

- Excuse me...
- What? I'm a bit busy.

Yes, I can see that.

But I just needed to ask you
about your love life.

Get out. Now.

Now... We're going to Edinburgh.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
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From the confidential
journals of A.Z. Fell,

Volume 603.

Dear Diary,

last month Crowley and I both
happened to be in Edinburgh.

And he insisted I visit
a local graveyard at midnight.

He had come upon something
he said that might amuse me.

A statue of the supreme
archangel himself!

It's depressingly accurate.

It's definitely Gabriel. It's uncanny.

Do you think he knows?

Probably comes here to stare at it.

Marveling at his own beauty.

I think there's someone here.

This one's mine, ya bastards!

Rather strange time
to be burying someone.

I've got a spade.

If the two of you are still here
in ten seconds, I'll use it on you.

I like you!

Dinnae let us stop you.

Oh, this isn't good.

Well, depending on the point of view.

You say potato, I say excellent.

My side are gonna love
a spot of bodysnatchin'.

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm...

- English?
- Mr... McFell.

I just thought I should warn you
that digging up bodies...

Well, it's wrong.

He's not using it anymore.

Just something for
his family to cry over.

Now, would you like a wee hand
with your corpse?

I resolved to show this young person

the error of her ways.

It's not an easy job.

If the watch catch you,
you'll swing for it.

It's not the danger
of what you're doing.

Don't you know that it's wrong?

All I know is there's a surgeon
in Newington

who'll give me a great big wodge of cash

for a fresh body like that one.

But you don't have to do this!

- You could be a bookseller.
- I can't read very well.

I don't own a shop.

Well... a weaver then.

- Weaving! Brilliant idea.
- Aye.

Though I can't quite remember
exactly where I left my loom.

Farming.

Bet you left your loom
on your farm, didn't you?

This piss-drenched patch is
where me and my pal sleep.

You alright, wee Morag?

Never better, hen. Never better.

Just trying to keep
wee Morag and me alive.

And it doesn't hurt anyone
who isn't already dead.

So you can shove your morals
up your arse, Mr. McFell.

I've brought you something.

Oh, come on. I've already eaten.

Roasted chicken, butter potatoes,

two helpings of marmalade
pudding for afters.

You're a filthy liar, Elspeth McInnes.

And a wee angel.

Aye.

What's in the barrel, hen?

You didn't. Please tell me you didn't.

Oh, she absolutely did.

Nice, fresh, body.

It was just this once!

I promise we can get seven,
even eight pounds for a good one!

We can get a room in a proper
boarding house,

not like the last one.

And you'll never go to bed hungry.

You're going to hell, hen.

Quite right.

It was wonderful to meet you, wee Morag.

There is a stolen body in that barrel!

- This is wicked!
- Oh, I'm down with wicked!

Anyway, is it wicked?
She needed the money.

That is irrelevant.

Look, I am good.
You, I'm afraid, are evil.

But people get a choice.

You know, they cannot be truly holy

unless they also get
the opportunity to be wicked.

She is wicked.

Yeah, that only works
if you start everyone off equal.

You can't start someone off like that

and expect her to do as well
as someone born in a castle.

Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit.

The lower you start,
the more opportunities you have.

So Elspeth here has all the
opportunities because she's so poor.

- That's lunacy.
- No, that's ineffable.

Now you're getting it.

Oh, that's much better.

What do we do?

We play classical music
that stays classical music.

Angel? What are you doing?

Nothing.

We're getting along
terribly well together.

You realise I could feel when you drive

the Bentley under the speed limit.

- Well I'm sure you can't.
- I can.

- So put your foot down!
- Alright, alright.

I'm awfully sorry.

It doesn't seem to want to.

Was that a travel sweet?

No.

Hmmm.

My car does not make that noise.

- What are you doing to it?
- Nothing.

You've done something to the car,
haven't you? I can feel it.

I really don't know what you mean.

My car is not yellow.
It has never been yellow.

It is not going to
start being yellow now!

- Change it back!
- But it's pretty.

If you don't change it back right now,

I'm gonna start selling people books!

In fact, I might even give some away.

Is there any news about Gabriel yet?

Err, no.

No news of our accursed enemy, my lord.

No?

- Tell me the moment we learn anything.
- Of course, Lord Beelzebub.

Do you ever think,

wouldn't it just be nice if someone
told you what a good job you're doing?

- In hell?
- Yeah.

I mean, I'm just happy
when you don't sentence me

to the Dung Pits for pissing you off.

I mean, a day I don't get sent
to the Dung Pits is a good day.

I mean, as long as there's a day
that nobody rips out my tongue

for talking too much.

A day when nobody sends you
to the Dung Pits

or rips out your
tongue for talking too...

Am I talking too much?

Are you gonna rip out my tongue again?

I don't care. Just be quiet.

Right.

- You feeling alright?
- Do you want to go to the Dung Pits?

Gravity.

It's, um... a thing that happens
when objects are pulled together.

In this case,
they're all pulled downwards

because the earth is
the largest thing around.

Why?

Ah...

Honestly, um, I don't remember.

Seemed like a good idea
when we were all talking about it.

So things would stay where you put them,
not just drift off.

But it doesn't stay where I put them.

It goes down.

Except for flies, they go up.

Well observed.

Right, so,
THE PLAN: Operation Lovebirds.

I'm gonna wait until they both happen
to be near the awning,

then, sudden downpour,

they're back out of the rain,
bump into each other,

look into each other's eyes and vavoom.

- Vavoom?
- That's the plan, yeah.

I haven't done weather in ages.

It was with heavy heart

we arrived at Elspeth's destination.

I was determined to thwart
her monstrous plan.

Doctor Dalrymple?

Mr. Dalrymple, FRCSE.

I'm a surgeon, not a doctor.

I'm sorry to inform you
that this is not pickled herring.

- And I'm afraid I must insist...
- What do you want?

Oh, come on, Mr. Dalrymple,
it's not brain surgery!

You might want to think
about washing your hands.

It's gonna be all the rage in
a few years, I'm telling you.

- You're a funny one, Mister...
- Oh, doctor. I'm not a surgeon.

Of course. Doctor.

It would've taken a miracle

to render that freshly
buried body unsellable.

Oh dear.
Something smalls rather... ripe.

Is this a joke?

I'm awfully sorry Mr. Dalrymple.

Oh what a shame.
Such a warm night I suppose.

I can't use this!

It was fine when I...
How did that even...

I tell you what, this one's half price.

I'm not paying a penny
for this... this soup!

You could try fishing out the teeth?

People pay good money
for a nice set of gnashers.

Get this disgusting mess out of here.

You did this, didn't you?

Just an unexpected blessing.

Would you mind?

Ooh. Yeah.

I did a very good thing then.

Now, I don't want Elspeth
coming back here with another body.

Gotta cut off the demand side of things
as well as the supply.

The um, doctor here
and I would be ever so grateful

if we could stay and discuss your work.

Over a good whisky, perhaps.

Doctors!

Perhaps I can interest you in a
wee tipple while we discuss my work?

It's terrible, buying the bodies.

But I'm trying to teach students
anatomy and basic physiology.

I don't like it any more
than you do, Dr. McFell.

The trouble is there are
never enough murderers.

- I'm sorry?
- Murderers get hanged.

No one cares if we cut up murderers.

Excellent idea! More murders!
I'll drink to that.

But if you're in such
dire need of bodies,

why not dig them up yourself

instead of making the poor
and the desperate do it?

Seriously, though?

You cannot possibly think
it is the best use of my time

to be sneaking around in graveyards
in the wee small hours,

risking grave-guns and the noose

instead of teaching
and studying and saving lives.

He's got a point.

- You're both medical men.
- Well...

What is your professional opinion
on that, Doctor?

Well, in my professional opinion,

that seems to be...

I say that seems to me a...

um... well, what do you think?

Well, that's a foot.
So it's definitely not a foot.

That's my point.

If you two smart gentlemen
can't identify it,

then what are my students to make of it?

I removed this tumor
from a seven-year-old boy.

Oh. Oh dear.

And... Is he...?

And that is why we need
a steady supply of cadavers.

We need to cut.

If we can't cut, we can't learn.

If we can't learn more, a lot more,

then how on earth
are we going to win the battle

against monstrosities like this one?

I'm just trying to save lives
and teach students.

I either end up with a knighthood

or condemned as a resurrectionist
and hanging from a rope.

Aha!

Hello there.

Allow me to introduce myself.

I'm what's known as a newspaperman.

Tell me,

is this the Resurrectionist
public house?

You'll be one of those investigative
reporters, no doubt?

I am!

Well what can I do for you,
and err, what would you like to drink?

Oh, nothing for me.

I'm just here to get the skinny lowdown

on that mysterious
song that played itself

on your establishment's jukebox.

That started last year.

Give me the facts.

- Well, it was a Friday evening.
- Fantastic.

Just for what we ink slingers
call "atmosphere",

was this chap by any chance
among those present?

Listen,
I serve hundreds of people a week.

I'm not gonna remember some...

Well, yeah.

Aye, okay. I remember him.

- Was he alone?
- Oh no.

- Who was he with?
- Oh, I don't know.

Just... just another Mason.

A Mason?

Ah, well,
he's a Mason himself, isn't he?

He was sitting with another one of them.

We often get them in here.
There's a Lodge next door.

It's the first time I've seen one
in a fancy grey suit though.

Was he a big high-up or something?

He certainly used to be.

I don't want your help.

But you were right!

Body snatching
alleviates human suffering.

That is a good thing.

- So I can help this time.
- I don't trust you!

I don't know what you did,
but you made that happen.

Aye. Tell that to the poor souls
who will not get into heaven

'cause their bodies are
all chopped into wee pieces.

Well, that isn't how it actually...

Heaven isn't all
it's cracked up to be, you know.

It's no right. I'm telling you.

- Yeah.
- You said you'd help Morag!

Just one body
can get us off the streets...

Aye, I will help,
cause that's what pals do,

but it still doesn't make it right.

That's the spirit!

So, um, as I was saying,
big thumbs up from me.

Dig up as many bodies as you like.

Having realized the error of my ways,

I resolved to assist
Elspeth and wee Morag

in their noble quest
to decrease human suffering.

I took time to inspect various lethal
security devices

in that graveyard.

Most ingenious.

You trip this wire, and then...

Boom!

So the rich can afford all this gubbins

to protect their rellies
from being dug up,

and the poor just have to lump it?

You're okay with that, yeah?

- You alright down there, hen?
- Yeah. Almost there, Morag.

It's nice, fresh earth. Easy to dig.

Morag!

Obviously the firing of the grave-gun

had alerted the local watchman.

It's the watch!

Might've slightly
overdone it on the hole.

I am going to save her.

I know it's not
technically allowed, but...

This... this is all my fault.

And I really can't bear it.
If that young woman...

I could heal her.

No, no, no. It's the right thing to do.

I will brook no argu... What are you...?

Too late.

Will one of you fetch the cart?

Whatever for?

Well, I could be wrong,

but I think Elspeth's taking
wee Morag to Mr. Dalrymple.

- But...
- But what?

I should let her rot
in the ground while I starve?

Is that what you'd have me do,
Mr. McFell?

Because it is certainly not
what wee Morag would want.

Well no. No, of course not.

I just... I...

It's a bit different
when it's someone you know, isn't it?

Well, it's not soup, I'll give you that.

She didn't even want
to be in that graveyard.

She only wanted to look after me.

Well, she's done that, hasn't she?

Nice and fresh.

Shall we say five pounds?

Five pounds?

The going rate
for a fresh one's seven, even eight.

You can go and knock on other doors

and see if anyone out there
will give you more for her.

But I'll give you five.

Five. There you go.

Blood money.

And what are you going
to spend it on? Gin?

Wine. For a toast.

Here we are.

Um... Hello, Elspeth.

I'm so sorry about your friend.

It happens. People die.

They do, don't they?

I bought a bottle of good wine
with the proceeds.

Gin's faster. Wine's fancier.

So we can all toast wee Morag.

We'll toast her, then I'm going.

And you can use this money to bury me

Somewhere where no ghouls
will ever dig me back up again.

Going?

- Where are you going?
- To join wee Morag.

So, can we toast her now, please?

No! No, no, no, no!

What did you do that for?
You'll kill yourself!

Constitution of an ox.

Well, I don't need
laudanum to kill myself.

Aw, no dying! Enough dying.

No more dying! No more dying!

Dying is just... it's just...

it's just... wrong!

- Crowley.
- Nah! Nah!

Do I sound like a goat? Neigh!

♪ O Flower of Scotland ♪

♪ When will we see your likes again ♪

Right come on, let's get cracking.

Angel! Angel.

Say something that... convinces her

that poverty is ineffably wonderful
and that life is worth living.

Go on!

Life isn't worth anything.

And then monsters like me
come and dig you back up and...

I have to stop you there. Crowley, I...

Where are you?

Don't you dare step on me!

I see you!

And you, you great... Hmm. Hmm.

I'm small, aren't I?

OK, I can do this.

Stunning view.

Crowley, there really is
no need for any of this...

There is! There you are!

You have sinned very bigly!

Trying to kill yourself is... I mean...

it's... it's not on!

If you dare try to snuff yourself again,

you are damned forever!

- Unless...
- Unless?

Unless... How much have you got
in your wallet?

- Err, me?
- How much, Doctor McFell?

About 90 guineas.

Yeah, that should be enough.
Giver her that.

- Ah...
- But the virtues of poverty...

Ah... She is going to be
shot by a grave gun

or hanged,
if she doesn't top herself first.

Hey! Hmm? Gi'e her the money, angel!

But what am I gonna do with 90 guineas?

Buy a farm, and be good.

Not just pretend good.
But properly good.

I promise I will. I promise.

- Do you though?
- Mm.

Nah, that's good enough for me.

Right you are then, hen, off you pop.

Laudenum, whoo-wee!

Last time I do that!

- Where are you?
- I'm here. I'm here.

That was very kind of you, Crowley.

- You saved that young woman.
- Not kind!

Off my head on laudanum.
Not responsible for my actions.

Will you get into trouble?

Well, they'll surely
have noticed downstairs.

You just did a very good deed indeed.

Trust me, if hell noticed
that little display, I'd already be...

Ah... I'd already...

And that was the last
I was to see of Crowley

for quite some time.

Ah! Excuse me!

I hate to be a bother,
but do either of you gentlemen

happen to possess
a mobile phone that I could use?

Are you entirely out of your wee mind?

Err, telephone please.
I don't have all day.

And I did ask nicely.

Oh, I'm so scared.

What will you do if we say no?

I'm out of minutes.
Mostly I just use it for Twitter.

And Grindr.

Ah, that's very kind of you.

Now, I'm afraid
I do need a little privacy.

Um...

Hello. Um...

I'd like you to call the telephone
in my bookshop please, phone.

It's on my desk.

Fell's Bookshop.

We probably don't have
what you're looking for

and we wouldn't
sell it to you if we did.

I think I've found some clues.

And do you remember
the statue of Gabriel

in the graveyard in Edinburgh?

I'm looking at it now.

Mmm, good job.

Oh, do you really think so?

Um, Crowley...
Do you remember Dr. Dalrymple,

- The one who bought, err...
- Wee Morag's body.

Not a doctor... A mister, yes!

- Yes, whatever happened to him?
- He left Edinburgh in disgrace.

- And then he killed himself.
- Mmm.

- And they named a pub after him.
- Pffft. Humans.

You don't let yourself get too attached.

No. No, I suppose not. Um...

You haven't actually been selling
any of the books, have you?

Not a one.

Oh, good.

- Clue?
- Right!

So... I have unearthed
some vital information.

Gabriel has indeed visited the, um...

establishment in question,

- in company with...
- With?

I don't know. Someone.

But he wasn't alone!
Anyway, that's a proper clue, isn't it?

Ooh, listen.
I think it's about to happen.

The awning of a new age.
I'll see you when you get back.

Right.

Blessings be upon you.

And your phone.

And Twitter and Grindr,
whatever they happen to be.

My phone!

Oh!
Did you like it better the other way?

No! Whatever you did... thank you!

Ah!

Okay. Okay, rain. I can do rain.

I just wanted to say that...

I'm not sure
what happened the other night.

But can we talk?

- We don't have anything to talk about.
- I think we do.

You're upset and you're acting
as if it's my fault.

I don't really know
what's going on in your life,

but I know that whatever happened
the other night,

I didn't lock us in.

Lovely rainy rain.

I don't know why you're angry with me.

I'm not angry with you. It's just...

It's not about you.

Lindsay decided I must
have been having an affair,

'cause I wasn't texting back,
and I just... I couldn't deal.

That's not fair!

I mean, I'd never... and we didn't!
It was the power going out.

Oh come on, under the awning!

Proper hard rain!

I mean we're not having a...
What your partner said.

I know we're not!

- I suppose I owe you an apology.
- No, you don't.

It's just... I'd never...

I'm not that kind of person.

I know. I'm not your type.

You have no idea.

Oh, yes. It's working.

Oh! Ooh...

Oh, bugger!

Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!

Hmm, that could've gone better.

Did they vavoom?

I think it's fair to say, Jim,

that vavooming was not the end result
of that particular tempest.

There will come a tempest,

and darkness, and great storms.

And the dead will leave their graves
and walk the earth once more.

And there will be great lamentations.

Go on.

Every day it's getting closer.

What are we talking about now?

Who am I? What's happened to me?

Stay here.

Don't open the door to anyone.

Shax? Where are you?

Excuse me, do you know where...

You've got Gabriel hiding in the
bookshop, haven't you, Crowley?

Sorry mate, I'm a stranger here myself!

Oi! Pillock!

- Beelzebub's not happy with you.
- Oh really? Beelzebub?

Not happy?

But they're always
such a little ray of sunshine!

They're seriously not happy.

Beelzebub knows the angel's
hiding him in there.

- No, they don't.
- What makes you so sure?

Because they can't?

- Why not?
- Because he isn't!

I'm not playing these games.

I'm not stupid, Crowley.

- Come on, let me in.
- Yeah. Not gonna happen,

so just... excuse me.

Ah, he's in there.

You think so?

I'm surprised you haven't popped in
for a quick poke around.

You know I can't step
over the threshold.

Oh. Shame I can't invite you in.

You're welcome to look
all you want from there.

Maybe you'll spot an archangel.

Hello, customer!

Listen, when there's no hot water

and two yellow lights
on the boiler, what is that?

Oh, yeah, yeah. That happens.

There's a little black tap
on a silver loop you have to turn.

- It's sort of under...
- Yeah, I can find it.

- And if you won't let me in...
- Not technically something I can do.

Beelzebub and the Dark Council
and all the forces of Hell

will declare war.

- On me?
- On your friend.

- Where is he by the way?
- Stocktaking.

In the basement.

You have no idea the trouble
you're causing, do you?

No. Or yes. Or... no.

Yeah. I'll tell you something Jim,

or Gabriel,
if you're in there somewhere.

If any harm comes to Aziraphale
because of this, I will...

Yes?

Oh, it doesn't matter.
It's too late for that now, isn't it?

It's always too late.