All language subtitles for Lovejoy s04e06 Fly the Flag.eng

(Man) ♪ And I can't swim over

♪ And neither have I wings to fly

♪ If I could find me a handy boatman

♪ To ferry me over to my love and die ♪

- Morning, Beau.
- Hiya, Rachel. Grub?

I'll bring it up.

Ooh!

- I've got you some beer.
- Thanks.

Just look at the state of you.

- Very hot.
- I've been working.

I think you should take a break.

I need it.

What? What happened?

The earth moved, I think.

- What is it?
- I've got no idea. It's worth finding out.

Won't be a tick, Lovejoy.
Need a present for Wilfred and Daphne.

Azi Kumar is a grocer.

The man's an absolute marvel.
Sells everything.

Oh, well, ask the marvel

if he's got a pair
of four-inch number eight coach bolts,

with square heads and octagonal nuts.

Right.

Personally, I've never heard of them.

How do, Lovejoy.

Morning, memsahib. How goes it?

Absolutely pukka, Azi.

The village of Great Buckling,

reborn to the locals,

after 15 years in a yuppy's stranglehold.

Oh, it was a treat
to see them scurrying back to London

when house prices hit the deck.

And you know
what the real cherry on the top was?

Azi's shop used to be an estate agent's.

Even the church is being reconsecrated
after 20 years in the wilderness.

That's right. A church opening
instead of closing.

There's even a new reverend,
R.J. Fairbrother, whoever he is.

Look at this. James Shotley, Alice Shotley.

Who's that? That's Raymond Shotley.

Claud Shotley, Arthur Shotley.
No wonder there's only three of them left.

There's Wilfred, his sister Daphne

and their nephew Christian, a spotty-faced
Herbert who joined the army to see the world.

Signal Corps.
It's like British Telecom with guns.

Ah, his dad.

James Harold Shotley.

Died last month, leaving death duties
that make you want to believe in eternal life.

- Lovejoy!
- Yo!

- Do you want your nuts chamfered or ordinary?
- Ooh! One of each.

I take it all back. The man's a marvel.

- Thanks, Azi. Bye-bye.
- Bye.

Pure Pakistani silk, Wilfred.

But I've got a tie.

Yes, well, now you have two, dear,
to ring the changes with.

- Want a tie?
- Take no notice of him, Jane.

He's been a miserable old devil
ever since Jimbo fell off his perch.

- Oh, Jimbo meaning James?
- Our brother, yes.

What have you brought me?

It's a rather nice shawl, actually.
Well, I liked it, anyway.

- It's from Pakistan.
- Yes, it's lovely.

It's red.

She can't bear red.

Drains her face.

Here.

- Jane, how lovely to see you.
- Oh, Christian, hello!

How nice to see you, too,
looking so well and... well.

- Without the spots, she means.
- You remember Lovejoy.

Mmm. Er... Need your help.

You'd agree that a chair is a chair,
and a table a table.

Well, to a civilian, yeah.
You eat off one, you sit on the other.

Yes, well, I have two choices.
Solvent civilian or penniless man of culture.

He's done a deal with the taxman.

Letting him have what's in the dining room
instead of death duties.

Yes, well, it's about the only treasure
we've got.

I thought I'd better have it valued first, though.

In case they try to shaft him.

What do you reckon, then, Lovejoy?

Yeah, it's a lovely piece of work.

Don't get craftsmanship like that any more,
do you, fella?

(Jane) How much are the death duties?

(Christian) Er... Thirty thousand. It's the land.

You er... You couldn't raise it any other way,
could you?

Well, I put some acreage up for sale,
but no one wants to buy it these days.

We're all in the same boat.

Well, I hate to be the bloke who tells you this,

but the table's worth about five grand.

Same goes for the chairs.

You said he was an expert.

Wilfred, they're copies.

They're good, but they're copies.

So, where does that leave Christian?

Well, keeping his mouth shut. Hopefully,
the taxman won't know treacle from tart.

When's he coming to value this stuff,
by the way?

Tomorrow.

But... won't that be cheating, Lovejoy?

No, no, no, no, no.
It's just a bit of a reshuffling of moral priorities.

For two hundred and fifty quid,
I'll point him in the wrong direction.

Sounds like cheating to me.

What do you say, Uncle?

I agree. It's cheating.

Let's cheat.

Hey, Beau, do you want a drink?

How's it going, Mr. Dill? Eric?

Ah, evening, Beau.

Before you settle down,
over there is asking for you.

Yeah, right.
You didn't happen to catch her name, did you?

Donna. You met her at the traffic lights,
George Street, Wednesday morning.

Got her. Back in a tick.

Hi.

Those lights were on amber. She told me.

So he had all of what, ten seconds
to make his play? And now look at her.

Some of us have it, dear boy. Others don't.

Well, you're good at darts.

Get your hands off!

What can I get you, Mr. Dill? The usual?

That's very kind of you, Beau.
Eric'll have a pint of sour grapes.

Come on, then, Beau.

Tell us, why did Donna storm out?

You are now looking at a man who no longer
covets his neighbor's ass or wife.

Or if he does, rather,
he no longer tries to pull it.

The light dawns.

He's come to us for help with his celibacy.

Oh, you've come to the right people.
We're the professionals.

No, no, nothing like that.

If I was to tell you that I, Derek Whittaker,
might or might not have found

something which may or may not
be worth a few bob...

- If I said I'd found it, would you be interested?
- We'd be fascinated.

If a little confused.

Perhaps this'll help.

- Thanks for giving us first option.
- Yeah, but holes in walls are ten a penny.

- You want Sotheby's, mate.
- Fair enough. I'm out of here.

But if you're interested, nine o'clock
tomorrow morning, Great Buckling church.

Beau, how come thou no longer covetest
thy neighbor's ass?

Promise you won't laugh or tell anyone?

Our lives on it.

I'm in love.

For a randy dog, Beau,
you're one hell of a craftsman.

So come on, then. Where's this hole?

Due north of that skull.

Yes, from the weave and the weft,

I'd say 18th century.

Almost certainly a flag.

For some reason, I feel shame.

If it's worth anything,
remember, I'm the one who found it.

Oh, we'll conduct our business
according to the usual rules, young man.

(Creaking)

(Whimpers)

- What is it?
- Oh, my God!

What's the matter?

The distance between me and the ground
is what's the matter.

Oh! Why did you let him up there,
you pillock?

- Am I the man's keeper?
- Come on down, you silly old fool.

Oh, yes, very sensitive, Lovejoy.

I'll just get the shovel
to scrape him up when he jumps.

- Well?
- Don't shout at me, Lovejoy.

It's a disease, vertigo.
I've had it since my first pair of Cuban heels.

Listen, I should be helping Christian Shotley
schmooze the taxman.

- I really haven't got time for this.
- Shotley? Keep away from that mob, Lovejoy.

They're mad as hatters. It's that inbreeding.

They fought in the American Revolution,
which, you recall, we failed to put down.

Have you always trusted me or not, partner?

Lovejoy, if this is leading to a manly embrace,
I'd rather we skipped it.

- Do you trust me or not?
- Of course not!

- Exactly.
- That's why we get on.

Exactly.

But you were the one that convinced me
that I had, you know, the gift.

You know, I could always sniff out winners.

Under floorboards, behind brick walls,
beneath ten coats of paint, right?

Yes, you could sniff out gold.

Yeah, well, Shotley Farm,

it's crying out to me, Tink.

- With what?
- I don't know.

All I know is I need your nose there as well.

It could be Shaker stuff, it could be...

- Colonial furniture!
- Yeah, it could be.

Those Redcoat garrisons.

- Yeah.
- Tons of it!

Chairs! Chests!

Benches and bedsteads and pictures.

- Wonderful pictures!
- If it's there, we might as well have it.

The damned fools burned loads of it
and the lot went to mice.

Hey, Lovejoy! I'm down!

(Sniffing)

I don't usually work to an audience.

I hope you don't expect
a closing song. (Chuckles)

Ah! These markings, Mr. Lovejoy.

Oh, yes, the number of the ship.

I'd say the table was made
from salvage timber.

21 was the Arundel.

The flagship of Henry VI!

- Mmm.
- Interesting.

I reckon it's all part of a package made
for Bishop Mullins, a henchman of Henry's,

who had a gaff down the road.

Well, the Yorkists murdered him
and his sister flogged off the family furniture.

Now, the Shotleys knew a bargain when they...
when they saw one,

so they... they...

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

What do you smell?

I smell a rat. Are you here to value this
or is Big Brother closing in on me?

Hush now, Mr. Lovejoy. Anyone would think
you'd been fiddling your tax returns.

- What do you smell?
- I don't smell anything.

Formaldehyde. In the glue.

Which dates the chairs around 1960, I reckon.

As do the clamp marks on the table.

The distressing doesn't convince me either.

Sorry, Mr. Shotley. Can't risk it.

You still owe the nation £30,000.

Go on. Have a little play.

Cheer up. We'll get by somehow.

You knew, didn't you?

Knew what?

That the table and chairs were fakes.
Now, what's going on?

(Hums)

I'm going to the church.

My father bought me some soldiers
one Christmas.

French grenadiers and guards.

We played the battle of Waterloo,

with brazil nuts for the British.

I'm proud to say the brazil nuts won.

Pow!

You're never too old to be young, my friend.
Want a game?

Here we go.

That's fine. That's it, that's it.

Right, down. Lower it down.

Ow! Ow! Hang on, hang on. Ow!

Watch the fingers.

Right, what have we got in here, then?

Hey, hey, careful, careful! You'll tear it.

I think we've got something here, you know.

Oh, it's beautiful!

(Imitates gunshots)

(Sings to herself)

Right, chuck us the flag.

No!

Oh, sorry.

Where did you find this?

Erm... Up there, love. A bit of restoration work,
you know, tidying the place up.

- Thank you.
- Give it to me!

Hey, finders keepers!

Oh!

- What was that all about?
- Don't ask me. Blooming nutter!

Wilfred! Wilfred!

Wilfred.

Wilfred, I want you to be very brave, dear.

- What's happened?
- The flag. It's turned up after all these years.

Guy must have hidden it in the church.

- Who found it?
- That boy who works for Jane Felsham.

The one who needs cleaning up.

(Eric) "Ad mortem usque parati"?

Sounds like a curry.

"Ad mortem usque parati", Eric,

means "Ready to fight to the death".

And that is not Boston
where the beans come from,

but Boston where they had the tea party.

And who are the Glorious 21st
when they're at home?

The 21st were Redcoats, soldiers.

Hey, Christian,
your family fought in the War of Independence.

Ah, yes, I think you want Wilfred for all that.
Not me.

Ah, Lady Jane! Just what I needed
with half a church wall down me gizzard.

Hmm, I'll bet you did.

Mind you, just say the word
and I'd eat the other half, just for you.

(Tinker) Beau! Covet not.

Sorry. I just meant thanks. Really.

Yeah, sure you did.

No, really.
Your ladyship, I don't fancy you one little bit.

Oh. For this relief, much thanks.

Well, I mean, I do fancy you, of course.
But not as a player, more as a spectator.

Oh, get me out of this, for God's sake.

Beau, may we get back to the flag, hmm?
Thank you.

Eric, take a couple of pictures
and then clean it up, will you?

- Right.
- Hang on a sec.

- That's my flag, so I say what happens to it.
- Ah, just a minute.

That church was on Shotley land 200 years ago,

so anything that's hidden in the walls
is probably mine.

We're forgetting something. If we don't flog it,
it might as well belong to the Girl Guides.

Yeah, and who are the people
who know where to offer it?

Ahem! Excuse me. Yoohoo!

The old firm.

Well, that makes five of us that want a cut.

Why don't we chop the bloody thing
into strips?

(Jane) Ah, Wilfred. Just the man we need.

Now, your family fought
in the American War of Independence.

- So what?
- So tell us more.

Like anything you know about this flag.

It's mine. This flag belongs to my family.

- And it's coming right home with me. Now.
- Careful!

Jane, would you like to explain the facts of life
to Wilf, and death as in death duties, Chris?

Hmm, £30,000-worth.

He's right, Wilf.
This flag could solve an awful lot of problems.

If we can prove it's yours to sell.

Wilf?

Oh, very well.

(Mutters)

Why do you think Wilf went funny
when he saw the flag?

No idea. Sorry.

- Shall I get him at it?
- Hmm?

Well, Wilf's a big kid.

You're not much smaller yourself.

What is it, Wilf?

It's come off again.

Thanks for the lift.

Quick game of soldiers, Wilf?

I've got other toys, you know.

Tons of 'em.

This is paradise, Wilf.

Sheer paradise!

It's our childhood.

- Me and Daphne's.
- It looks to have been a very good one.

Cos of all this?

We took this out into the paddock one day,

Jimbo and me and Daphne.

Just tots, we were.

And over there in the distance,
there were two people on real horses,

a man and a woman.

They rode right over to us and...

I knew I'd seen them before...

somewhere.

The lady looked down and she said,

"My, oh, my, aren't they growing up fast?"

And off they went.

I turned to our nurse... That shows
how much dough there was in those days.

We had nannies and cooks, maids.

I turned to her and I asked,

"Who are those people, Rosie?"

Do you know what she said?

Oh, I do.
"They're your mother and father," she said.

I would rather have had
just one tea caddy full of soldiers

and a bagful of brazil nuts

to go with parents who I really knew.

- Ah, is Mrs. Catchpole in?
- Who wants to know?

It's all right, it's all right, I'm family.

Oh.

Not again!

- Yoohoo!
- Oh, hi, Aunt Sal.

Could you do us a favor, look after this for us?

- What is it?
- It's a flag, and possibly very, very valuable.

So, a safe place.

I'm not a hundred per cent sure
what we're looking for, Lovejoy.

Oh, you know, letters, papers,

receipts, drawings.

Anything that would tell us about that flag.

You know, an old will...

...or an old painting that...
doesn't want to be seen.

- Smoke from the fire's done that.
- No, no, no, no, someone's painted over it.

A man on horseback,
surrounded by cannon fodder,

and he's waving old bluey.

"Ready to fight to the death, the Glorious 21st."

I think we've dug up General Gage's Standard.

Brilliant.

Any takers?

Do you know any Americans?

They're mine.

- Hello.
- Park that wreck.

Come on, get aboard.

- Well, here it is, my tribute to the W.I.
- The Women's Institute?

War of Independence.

What do you think?

Well, I think most of it was made in England.

I understand you fellas have a painting
to show me. Let's have it.

Please.

Where did you find this, Mr. Lovejoy?

It's just Lovejoy, and around and about.

The Sons of Columbus,
whom I have the honor of being President of...

Grammar!

...have been searching for the Shotley Standard
for over 200 years.

The Shotley Standard?

Named after the damn fool idiot
who led the detail against us at Lexington.

- First scramble of the Revolution.
- That was General Gage, surely?

Hell, no! Colonel Sir Guy Shotley,
the fella in the picture.

Hell, if it had been Gage,
things might have gone a lot different.

I might be calling you fellas sir,
and meaning it.

So... Where's the flag?

- Please.
- Where's the money?

Why, Mr. Lovejoy, I do believe you're serious.

It's Lovejoy, and yes, sir...

(Phony US accent) I do believe I am.

Now, listen here, curly.

We should have taken that flag
after the Battle of Lexington.

- You lost.
- We won the goddamn war.

- Unless you've got a mind it isn't over yet.
- Fighting talk.

What are you going to chuck at us, Chuck?

Lawyers, friend.

You ain't seen blood and guts
till you see John D. Parmenter in action.

Over here, we give our kids
proper middle names, not initials.

- He is English.
- So is the flag.

Have a rotten day.

Get my plane ready to fly.
You got two minutes.

(Engine sputters)

Ooh!

Lunatic!

What do you mean,
he buzzed you with his aeroplane?

Metal bird in sky, Janey. Bzzzzm!
Swooped down on Lovejoy.

He nearly killed us in the cornfield.

Oh, yes? And where was Cary Grant
all this time? Being poisoned by two old ladies?

(Laughs)

(Beau) Well, I thought it was very witty.

Charming. Intelligent.
What you'd expect from a beautiful woman.

Oh, a bucket of cold water, someone.

Sorry. Sorry, I don't find you funny
at all, Jane.

I don't find you attractive either. Well, I do.

- That's the trouble...
- Beau? Beau, shut up.

The point is, does this Colonel Fellowes
fellow want the flag or not?

He wants it, but he doesn't want to pay for it.

- Why the hell not?
- He thinks he owns it.

He's not the only one.
The new deacon says it belongs to the church.

I'll sort the Reverend Fairbrother out
whenever I meet him.

Oh, politely, though.
I've been invited to the reconsecration.

- Well, Chris, I thought I could help.
- You have, Lovejoy.

Oddly enough, the Army teaches you
to roll with every punch,

never to fight back like you do.

Absolutely.

This Colonel Fellowes is throwing lawyers at us.

John D. Parmenter from Bungy.

Well, he's never heard of Harvey Q. Swainston
from Great Buckling.

Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen,
I shall give this rabble no quarter.

Good. Advice?

Avoid the courts.

I'm not saying it won't come to that
in the end.

But let's begin with open discussion.

I mean, if we can't see off
a few bull-brained colonials,

what hope is there?

Let's draw them in,

and make them feel British.

I mean, that's all the Yanks have ever
really wanted, you know. To be British.

Which begs the question,
why did they rebel in the first place?

You never know how much you want a thing
until you lose it, Lady Jane.

Just what we needed.
A pompous, bigoted, jingoistic snob.

With that total inability
to see the other chap's point of view.

- Where are you going, Jane?
- I promised myself one of Azi's birdboxes.

- A what?
- A birdbox.

- Birdbox?
- Afternoon, memsahib. How goes it?

Still pukka, Azi.
I'd like one of your birdboxes, if I may.

Fifteen quid to you.

And if you're all very good,
I'll allow one of you to put it up for me later.

Just a moment. Just a moment.

Azi, where'd you get this?

No, not up your right nostril.

He won't let you have them any cheaper,
Lovejoy.

His name, Azi.

Oh, I don't do it for the money.
I do it for the interest.

Right, Chris?

Not that it's any of your business.

Oh, the birdboxes, no.

The tables, yes.

Come on.

You know, Wilf, I wish you'd told me
that you'd made this table.

And these chairs, eh?

- Who says he made them?
- A little birdbox told me. Hmm?

Bit much for blue tits, you know.
Dovetail joints, hmm?

Glued, screwed, beveled and French polished,
all in a style I'd seen somewhere before.

Right here.
Might as well have signed 'em, Wilf.

How much does Azi give you for one of these?

A fiver.

Fiver? He knocks them out for fifteen.
You should get Daphne onto him.

I rue the day we ever met you, Mr. Lovejoy.

To you, the past is just something
to be traded in for profit.

And pleasure and pride, Daphne.

Huh! What exactly have you got
to be proud of?

Well, if my mum could see me now,
she'd say, "Look, the kid's made it.

"He's having tea
with the descendents of that chap

"that started the American War
of Independence."

Yes, it's well said like that. Means very little.

Just give it two seconds and what have you got?

Guy Shotley, one of our ancestors,
was sent out to do a job,

to put down a bunch of tinpot farmers.

He failed, and lost this country
the biggest colony it ever had.

Yes, but people don't go around saying,

"Oh, there's Wilf Shotley,
his great-great-whatsit lost us America."

Some would say he did us all a favor.

And it was 200 years ago. Have we been
trying to cover that up ever since?

Maybe that's why you've got no money, Chris.

People came nosing round for a good story,
got paid off, eh, Wilf? Daphne?

That's the trouble with Danegeld.
The old Dane keeps coming back for more.

So you flogged off all the furniture and
made new stuff like the table and chairs, eh?

Have a little play, dear. Steady your nerves.

Use a plate.

Look, I don't care who knows about our past.
They can... They can stuff it.

I don't even care about the furniture.

All I know is, I'm still short £30,000.

(Hums)

Wilf, have you got lots of these?

What? Regiments of 'em.

Fellas, I love you.

Morning, chief. Up the British, eh?

Yes, indeed, Mr. Kumar.

(Tires squeal)

Morning.

We are not impressed. There is nothing wrong
with public transport in this country.

OK, everyone? We are not impressed.

This is John D. Parmenter.

Harvey Q. Swainton.

Harvey Q?
Sounds like something to grill steaks on.

(Giggles)

Perhaps you'd care for some coffee, gentlemen,
before we get down to business?

(Helicopter drowns speech)

With your permission, Jane?

- Certainly.
- Right.

Now, here is the city of Boston,

with the great redoubt.

Excuse me.

More gun emplacements.

And the river, running through
ravines and rocks and deep gulleys,

with the woods and the hills
running down to the river.

That's your town of Lexington.

And more heights.

Great, wild, rugged country
down to the town of Concord.

And here, most important,

at North Bridge,

the terrain takes on a whole new tenor.

In my mind's eye, I see a consignment of tea
aboard a ship in Boston harbor.

There it sits, quite happily,

until a party of colonials,
dressed as Mohawk Indians,

decide to tip it into the sea.

Had these people never heard of the close bond
brooked between an Englishman and his tea?

General Gage was furious,

and immediately dispatched
Colonel Sir Guy Shotley, with 2,500 men,

to teach these upstarts a lesson
they would never forget.

As they reached the village of Lexington,
they were attacked by a mob of farmers,

ruthless, despicable men,

forerunners of the modern-day guerrillas.

Needless to say, Shotley wiped them out,

heeled them into the ground
and proceeded to Concord,

where, in a seedy backstreet, he discovered
where the rebels had dumped their stores.

Muskets, gunpowder, cannon.

And he razed the building to the ground.

I object, Your Ladyship.

So soon, squire?

What exactly do you find objectionable,
Mr. Parmenter?

The War of Independence
wasn't fought over tea.

Nor was it the result of a few local skirmishes.

It was brought on by the coercive acts
imposed by the British Government

to enslave the American people.

Yes, well, I'm not terribly up
on the history of it all,

but, well, yes,
I'm sure there was more to it than tea.

Yoohoo!

It's not what you think.

- Did I say anything?
- No. It's love.

Well, I'm glad to hear it. Now, Auntie,
where's the flag? We're running late.

- Rush, rush, rush. It's all you boys ever...
- Just tell us where it is, love.

- It's on the line. I gave it a quick rinse.
- What?

Antique fabric cycle, I hope.

Yes. No. Fabrics and curtains, fast colored.

This is an 18th century relic, Salome.

- And it hasn't been washed since, I bet.
- Soaking bloody wet!

- It's come up rather nice.
- It's come up good as new.

- Well, bung it in the dryer.
- You're joking.

Frillies and delicates, it'll be fine.

And so, on the grounds of those overwhelming
victories at both Lexington and Concord,

I rest my case that the flag
is the property of Mr. Christian Shotley.

Thank you, Your Ladyship.

What you've said is all well and good,
Mr. Swainston...

Sorry we're late, folks,
but restoration work cannot be hurried.

(Murmurs of approbation)

Mr. Parmenter, this is Lovejoy,
Mr. Catchpole and Mr. Whittaker.

Please.

Derek Whittaker?

(Jane) Yes, that's right.

Uh, yes.

What you've said is all well and good,
Mr. Swainston,

but only half the story.

Yes, we were beaten at Lexington.

Yes, we did take a drubbing at Concord.

However,
as your boys hightailed it back to Boston,

angry farmers lay in wait behind every barn,
every wall, every bump in the ground.

Those farmers took their revenge.

Pennyworth, 50 Redcoats killed.

Forkway Creek, another 200.

Outside Lexington itself, 25.

At Marbles Farm, the toll was 84.

At Haversham's, 93.

At the Sanderson Ranch, greater still. 180.

Two miles from the garrison,
another 35 were killed.

By the time you boys got home,

there were just 500 of you still alive.

And you call that a victory?

Ha!

Derek Whittaker?

Beau Derek Whittaker?

Yes. The Beau Derek Whittaker.
I mean, what do you want, his birth certificate?

And do you remember Rosemary?

Rosemary? You'd have to give us
a few more details, squire.

Very interesting. What happened next?

Isn't that just typical?

This man's forgotten her.

And I still can't get her out of my mind.

I... I have a photo of her here somewhere.

- Here it is.
- Do you want some advise, John D?

Put her out of your mind.
There's plenty more fish in the sea.

He speaks as a shark.

I don't want other fish!

I want Rosemary.

And if this bargain basement Lothario
hadn't shown up, I'd still have her.

You bastard!

(All shouting)

That's the trouble with wars.
They start off being about one thing,

and then they end up
being about something completely different.

In this case,
needle over the ownership of some daft flag

is now a row about Beau the Obliger's
willingness to er... oblige.

- Mr. Lovejoy?
- Yeah?

I've come for the flag.

Really?

Let's sit round the table
and discuss this rationally.

You're behaving like schoolboys.
Look at the state of you, Mr. Parmenter.

Are you all right, Colonel Fellowes?

The church, once owned by the Shotleys,
was sold to the diocese in 1798.

This is a copy of the deed of sale.

It's made out to include
everything that was in the church at the time,

which, naturally, will have included the flag.

How do you know it was there then?

Mr. Whittaker, the stone mason,

said the plaster rendered over the flag's
hidey-hole was at least 200 years old.

This Reverend R.J. Fairbrother's
certainly done his homework, hasn't he?

Yes, I have.

- Yes.
- The Reverend is a she.

See you in church, Mr. Lovejoy.

Just Lovejoy, and er... Sure as hell, Rev.

- The flag.
- Over there.

And would you mind telling these people
exactly what you just told me?

What I'm trying to say is,

blame must be apportioned equally
between you, Rosemary and Mr. Parmenter.

- I object, Your Ladyship.
- (All) Overruled!

- I'll take that, if you don't mind.
- Eh?

- Lady, Jane, I presume?
- Excuse me.

This is the Reverend R.J. Fairbrother,

and she's going to tell you all
something that you're not going to like.

- What now, Lovejoy?
- Well, the flag was just a matinee.

Gala performance comes later.

My Lady, ladies and gentlemen,

if you would care to bring your drinks
and follow me, we are now ready for you.

Thank you.

On offer, ladies and gentlemen, is
the Shotley family's collection of model soldiers.

It is a peerless collection,

cast in lead by Cayonne of Paris, dated 1892.

It includes a second collection of cannon horse,
wagon and carriage.

So, cards on the table, folks.

I know what this little lot is worth, and
so do you, so we don't need to waste time, eh?

Who'll kick me off at ten grand?

Thank you. Fifteen? Do I hear fifteen?

Fifteen thousand.

Twenty.

Twenty thousand? Thank you.

Another five, hmm?

Thirty? Do I hear thirty thousand? Thir...

Thank you very much.
What about thirty-five thousand?

Thirty-five to you, sir.

Yeah, I know. I'm late. All right?

♪... leads against the foe

♪ Forward into battle

♪ See his banners flow

♪ Onward, Christian soldiers

♪ Marching as to war

♪ With the cross of Jesus

♪ Going on before

Friends, let me welcome you
to Great Buckling Church,

revitalized now, after 20 years of dereliction.

Around us, we see many artefacts,

testifying to our rich history.

Milestones in the journey towards civilization,

some to be proud of, others perhaps not,

but all of them worthy of our reflection.

- Hey, Lovejoy?
- Hmm?

You and Lady Jane.

Did you?

- Please!
- Go on, I won't tell anyone.

- Beau, where are we?
- Go on.

- Big fella could be watching us.
- He won't mind.

I know somebody who will.

And now, let us sing hymn number 185.

Lord Jesus, think on me
and purge away my sin.

From earth-born passion, set me free

and make me pure within.

Repair and Synchronization by
Easy Subtitles Synchronizer 1.0.0.0