All language subtitles for Jonathan Creek s03e02 The Eyes of Tiresias.eng

Well, I'm enjoying this night
out in a Corby trouser press.

There's no point in both of us getting crushed.
You get the drinks, I'll grab some food.

Don't get much, do you?

Not lately.

- Sorry?
- Oh! No. I mean, it's a joke.

- You only bring one
plate up? - Mm-hmm.

Big mistake.

Oh, God! Sorry!

Sorry! Um... I'll pay for it. Here.

- It's OK.
- Look at you. You're sopping.

- I hate them anyway.
- Please, send me the cleaning bill.

- Honestly, it's no sweat.
- I'm trying to give you my telephone number.

Oh. Um...

I'm joking. Come on. I've mucked
up your suit, I'll pay for it.

- Can I get a top-up here,
please? - Location manager.

What's that? Bribing people to let
Channel 4 come and film their toilet?

Ladies and gentlemen, for
your cabaret this evening,

prepare to be amazed by the
miraculous powers of Otto Danzigger.

Let's do it. Release the ballsI

The bubble of relativity, where
time curves back on itself.

The future is revealed to
those with the power to see.

Molecules, particles colliding...

A white ball with a
number... a number 8!

First match is number 8.

- Is it a two and a five, 25?
- It's number 25.

Eleven. On a blue ball number 11.

It's number 11.

Next tonight, it's number 3.

Fifth is number 46.

47 is our sixth number.

Now the bonus ball to decide who gets
to perform live in the studio. It's 30...

There we go! I wouldn't mind a
talent like that. All six numbers!

Don't wait for him to be
amazed, you'll be here all night.

- Sorry, I got distracted.
- Yeah. I noticed.

- Heidi, this is Maddy Magellan.
- Heidi, hi.

Has he told you what he does?
He chops women up, basically,

then works out how to put them back together
again in his professional capacity as...

How would you describe it?
A kind of magic mechanic?

What else? He's
Capricorn. He's very tidy.

He lives in a windmill and
he's so single it's frightening.

And if you ask him nicely, he'll
tell you exactly how that was done.

The signal to the TV would have
gone through some kind of relay.

You only need a few seconds
delay, enough for an accomplice

who's watching it live to
feed the numbers through.

An earpiece would be spotted.
More likely through the mic.

You could rig it up to receive some
sort of pulse that he could feel.

The guy then transmits each number
using Morse code or some other...

What if he didn't?

- Sorry?
- What if it wasn't a trick?

He actually has the power to see into the
future? Not everyone's a fraud, you know.

There's documented evidence of people who
can reach beyond this plane of existence,

communicate on levels
we don't understand.

Yeah, well, I walked past
his dressing room earlier on,

and his chest hair was
hanging in a Sketchley bag.

To me, that's a big credibility problem.

OK, but it doesn't hurt
to keep a more open...

Hang on... Did she say you lived in
a windmill? Where, for heaven's sake?

Place called Briar Hollow in
West Sussex. About 30 miles...

It's about 30 miles north of Worthing.

"PRAISE YOU" BY FATBOY SLIM)

- I've got to go...
- I don't... Really...

Be careful!

I said isn't it weird? You come up to
a party, you don't know who'll meet.

Is that a deal, then?

- Sorry?
- We'll say about...

about seven o'clock tomorrow?

OK. Great.

Look, I have to go. I'm staying with my
aunt. I don't want to be late getting in.

You still haven't...

Oh, yeah.

There you are!

"LOVE IS ALL AROUND" BY WET WET WET)

- Will you come in?
- No, I can't. I can't!

Now go on. Get out. Shoo!

Go away!

No, come back.

Now clear off!

And come tomorrow for dinner...

and I'll impress you with
the size of my portions.

Sweet dreams. Bye.

- Oh!
- Sorry.

I thought you'd be dead
to the world by now.

I did fall asleep, but I was
having such a horrible dream.

I was glad to wake up.
Did you have a good time?

Yeah, Chrissy couldn't make it,
so I went on my own, but actually,

as things turned out, it
was... rather productive.

Now, I've just got some
calls to make before...

- Aunt Audrey, what is it?
- Oh, no. No, no. I...

It was just this dream.

I'm not usually one
for nightmares, but...

it was so vivid.

A man was being murdered. An
elderly man. French, he seemed to be,

or a foreigner of some description.

Someone had broken in through
the window - someone with a gun -

and locked the door.

The man was about to be killed
and was pleading for his life.

And he just kept saying,

"Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. "

Yes, well... You'll lock up,
won't you, before you come to bed?

Don't worry. You get
a good night's sleep.

- C'est tout, Monsieur Masson?
- Oui, c'est bien, Yvette. Merci.

Yes?

Craig. He is, yes. How
are you this morning?

Missing you, but that's
par for the course.

When this wretched
lunch is through today,

I thought we might grab some time together. I
could book our favourite room at the Posthouse.

We could order tea and let it get cold.

- What do you say?
- Yes, of course.

Oh, by the way, could you tell
him I may not be there dead on 12.

I've a client at ten who'll
be hard to rush, so...

One second, I'll ask. Craig's saying
he may be late for the meeting.

Is there any chance...?

The meeting will begin at 12
o'clock as I have instructed.

These are not complicated matters. Tell
Mr Downey I expect him to be punctual.

Thank you.

I heard.

Sorry. Still getting a slight wobble.

I'm sorry about that. We said seven.

I rang and couldn't raise you, so I
thought we'd quietly get on with things.

Quietly get on with things?! I'm
in the middle of the D-Day landings!

What the hell is going on?

You were fine about it last night when
I said our own mill had fallen through

and if we did some rescheduling, would
tomorrow be OK to knock off a few exteriors?

- When did you say that?
- Last night.

I said if you don't mind us humping
our gear upstairs. You said no problem.

Yes. I obviously misheard.

Sounds like you've made rather a
pig's breakfast of this one, Jonathan.

I may have to come round and
wallow in your embarrassment.

- What is it, anyway?
- I don't know. Some TV costume thing.

Woman gets chucked by her lover and
ends up leaping off a windmill sail.

Insides are all being done in a studio. They
assure me they'll be away by 8 at the latest.

So if I came by about lunchtime...

Hang on. There's someone rather
wonderful at my front door.

Yes, I could introduce
you to the sound engineer.

- It'll be your kind of guy.
- About 12, then? OK. Bye.

- Hey! You're up bright and early.
- Two minutes. I'm off to St Albans.

Listen. Sorry we had to
break things off last night,

before we got to know
each other... properly.

God, I was in some state, wasn't I?

I'm looking at seafood recipes for
tonight. How does a lobster grab you?

Kind of like this.

- Oh, I thought you'd all be...
- Oh, don't worry.

It's all part of the power game.
Lest we forget who runs the company

and who ranks somewhere below a
species of pond life in the order...

Are you insane?

- Sir?
- He's locked the door? He's got a g...

No! You are mad!

You would not dare!

Oh, Dieu. Oh, Dieu...

Oh, Dieu...

That won't work. Go round the side.

Oh, my...!

This is the most arse-achingly boring
business I've ever sat through in my life!

- Is this what you invited me here for?
- No, this is what you invited yourself here for.

- What are they doing? -
Waiting for a scaff-tag.

- A what?
- A safety tag

to verify the scaffolding's been
properly checked over as secure.

The guys who put it up forgot. Now
they're half way to a job in Swindon.

Without a scaff-tag, no one's
allowed on it, so they can't film.

So, do I get to see Colin
Firth in his underpants?

Madeline Magellan?

Guess who? That's a tough
one. Field Marshal Montgomery?

Of course we're still on for tonight. You
think I've had second thoughts already?

Eight o'clock, and I should warn
you I'm very strict on punctuality.

I most certainly will.

You, too. Bye.

Very good feeling about
this young chappie.

He's so perfect, you almost
wonder what the catch is.

The attack on media tycoon Mr Masson

took place about 12.30 in the
study of his palatial Surrey home,

within earshot of his wife and business
partners who were in the next room.

There was a crashing of glass...

and we heard him crying out to whoever
had broken in and locked the door.

And his last words before the gun...

"Oh, Dieu...

"Oh, Dieu...

"Oh, Dieu. "

Yeah... I don't know what to say, actually.
Maybe we'll talk about this tonight?

Yeah. Right. Bye.

Wow! Make what you will of that.

Apropos our conversation yesterday,

what's your position on the
predictive power of dreams?

- Go on.
- Do you know that Swiss guy, Andre Masson?

- Been in the news a lot.
- Irregularities with offshore investments.

Or something. Just over an hour ago,

someone broke into his study
and shot him in the chest.

Last night, after the party, Auntie
Audrey had just had this dream

about an elderly
Frenchman being murdered.

I mean, it's unbelievable.
She foresaw every detail -

the fact that the killer broke in
through the window, locked the door,

and what's really spooky -

in the dream, she said the man was
shouting, "Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. "

Masson, before he was murdered,
shouted, "Oh, Dieu. Oh, Dieu. Oh, Dieu. "

Try telling me that's a
conjuring trick. I don't think so.

How could it be? There's too much that
matches for it to be a coincidence.

Anyway, I think that's Heidi come in.

Yes, I will. Yes, all right.

All right. Yes. Bye.

Auntie Vera? What does she make of it?

Oh, what does she make of anything?
She doesn't know how a pedal bin works.

- How'd it go today?
- The usual snail's pace. We're there tomorrow.

- Are you OK?
- Of course I'm not OK.

Twelve hours before a man's murdered,
I see the whole thing in a dream.

A man I don't know, never even
heard of. It's almost like some...

And then... I had another one this afternoon,
there, when I dropped off in that chair.

- Look, Auntie Audrey...
- This time I wrote it down, so we have a record.

It was... another death.

Someone was being killed.

It was more confused this time, but... I
remember there was a creature with wings...

And...

And the initials RP
were in there somewhere.

That's all I could
remember after I woke up.

If you'll excuse me, I think
I'll have a spoonful of brandy.

- How's this thing meant to flush?
- The knob broke off.

Put your hand inside and
pull the little twisty bit.

How do you snap the
handle off a cistern?

I know. You'd be amazed at
the strength of this hand.

Hmm...

Gawd! It's all go in here tonight.

Field Marshal Montgomery
reporting for active service.

Listen, I'm 20 minutes late.
Will you shoot me for desertion?

Oh, wow, lobster! I'm impressed.

Come here. I haven't forgiven you for
throwing me out of that taxi last night.

Um...

Yes. Sorry.

Things seem to have gone
slightly awry here...

somehow.

What was that phrase?
"A pig's breakfast"?

That's a classic, to get off with two
blokes and think they're the same person.

You were pissed, but that's ridiculous.

So this first bloke went home with a migraine,
then you can't remember what he looks like.

Anyway, can we just put
this behind us, please?

How are you fixed for
Auntie Audrey's this morning?

Or is this one too baffling
even for your wizardly brain?

If it actually happened. I wouldn't
put it past her to say it to wind me up.

Someone was talking! Can we
keep the rabbit down, please?

Shh!

Maybe you've heard this man, Masson.
He's been in the papers a lot lately

to do with money going missing
in his company somewhere.

Maybe you had an inkling
someone might attack him?

That won't wash. How could I know about
the window being broken or the door locked?

And the words
- "Oh, Dieu" is as near to "Oh, dear" as makes no odds.

How could I predict his last words,
a man I didn't know from Adam?

You read a lot of Greek
mythology, Mrs Pangwitch?

Greek and Roman, yes. One closely parallels
the other, if you know about the subject.

Yes, I read. I listen to music.
I watch very little television.

Saturday night, it was that
ghastly lottery show on,

so I switched it off and settled down
for the night in this chair with Tiresias.

- Tiresias is...
- .. a blind soothsayer from Thebes,

who was given the gift of prophecy by
the goddess Athena, if memory serves.

Actually, he's my goldfish, named
after the soothsayer from Thebes.

It depends, I suppose, if you buy
into the idea of predestination.

Like, if everything's been pre-ordained by fate,
is it already out there somewhere in the ether,

sending signals back we can
pick up sometimes in our dreams?

You buy your fish food in the market.

- I beg your pardon?
- Bob & Rita's. Stall 25.

- "For all your pet supplies. "
- Yes, I shop there on Saturday morning.

Fruit and vegetables for the
week, plus any odds and ends...

Oh. Excuse me.

There'll be some weird reasoning
behind it. Best not to ask.

- Right.
- Interesting places, markets.

- You never can tell sometimes...
- No!

When did...?

Oh, dear God.

Yes. All right.

Gordon, our postman. I told him
about all this this morning, and...

You know how you witter on...
I... started to tell him about...

The second dream?

Becky Phillips at the
manor house in Codlington

was killed in a road accident
a couple of hours ago.

The number on her car...

was RP13.

- Look what else I wrote.
- "A creature with wings. "

A jaguar is a creature. A car has wings.

I... I can't believe this is happening.

Now, Mrs Pangwitch, you've got
to try not to let it upset you.

Oh, yes. It wouldn't upset you, I suppose,
to know you've foreseen your own death.

Last night... The moment
I woke up, I wrote it down.

This time, a man coming up the stairs...

a man with one eye...

and he came up to me in
my bed with a sword...

And then, in the dream, there
was blood... my blood, everywhere.

It was a nightmare. We all have them.

- It doesn't mean it's going to happen.
- Oh, really?

Like the last two, you mean?

Mr Creek, I don't know what clever
ideas you've had in the past.

This time, you're out of your depth.

You're dealing with forces
you can't begin to understand.

Now, please go. Go. Go.

Well, I don't know. The
first bit was weird enough.

Then you've got a car crash
no one could have foreseen.

How's she doing it?

Unless... I don't know
- she somehow deliberately engineered both those deaths herself.

It's deeper than that.

At the moment, it's deeper
than we can possibly see.

I'm afraid we're going
to need more information.

So, what are we looking at now?

- Oh, um...
- Another hour? Hour and a half?

- We've got our own lives to lead, you know?
- Well, very tricky to say, actually...

Mrs... Masson?

How many more detectives
are they going to send?

To try and put an
innocent man behind bars.

You've got nothing on Mr Downey.
Nothing that can possibly hold water.

A contact lens found next to
the gun, what does that prove?

And as for these diary entries
on my husband's computer...

All right. So he'd found
out. We were having an affair.

That was news to me.

But all this rubbish about
Craig threatening to kill him,

it's just a figment of
somebody's warped imagination.

Nevertheless, we will need to have
a further word with Mr Craig about...

- Downey.
- Craig... Downey,

who will be where exactly now?

At the company's London office all day.

And incidentally, can you stop these reporters
who keep finding their way into the house?

There was another yesterday. Turned
up and started questioning the staff...

Yes, absolutely. On to
that now, Mrs Masson.

Thanks for all your help. Bye.

So, hang on. He'd written about his wife's
affair in a diary he kept on his computer,

which presumably wasn't
password-protected...

almost as if it was meant to be found?

Yeah. Go on.

Oh, really? Even more interesting.

Sorry?

Not a great deal of progress today, no.

No, she's not. She was taking
her aunt to the doctor's...

Er, no... Sorry. Something
just popped in there suddenly.

Look, if you can check out that woman
in the car. And this bloke Downey,

find out if he's had
any burglaries lately.

Meet me back here tonight.

I've just had a fairly
breathtaking thought.

All right! It was only a quick word. I
didn't want an audience with the Pope.

- Don't come back!
- Talk about the ruddy Gestapo.

Look, we've been over
this a hundred times!

I'm not denying it was my contact lens. How
it ended up beside his body, I do not know.

What can I say? It was
a spare I kept at home.

- I presume it was taken in the burglary...
- Burglary, Mr Downey?

It's all on record. I reported
it to the local station.

Saturday morning, I arrived back from
Geneva, found my flat had been turned over.

Five grand's worth of gear gone.

Look, we're missing
the point here, surely?

The suggestion I shot him is absurd. I
was in the next room when it happened.

It was impossible for
me to have killed him.

So you say, Mr Downey.
Unless, of course...

Excuse me, sir. Apologies for interrupting,
but I think we have an intruder on the premises.

Come on!

No! No!

You bastard!

OK? Night-night.

- See you in the morning.
- Yes, of course.

What have we got? The senior director
was having it off with the boss's wife.

Director's contact lens
was found on carpet...

And flat was burgled while
director was out of country.

- Yes. How did you manage that one?
- In a sec.

What about the woman in the car?

The unfortunate Becky Phillips. Her
husband was quite helpful, surprisingly.

She was heading to the airport
for a business trip to Antwerp.

Apparently, she had
a phobia about flying,

which he thinks may have caused a lapse in
concentration, which sent her off the road.

I really thought I had it
this afternoon, but then...

Theory's all very well,
but you need proof.

A woman's had three very strange dreams,
two of which have already come true,

and in a third one, she's
stabbed by a one-eyed man.

- I'd be scared titless in her shoes.
- She's had three dreams.

Only one of them was strange.
The key is spotting which one.

- Clue?
- How much do you know about Greek mythology?

Funnily enough, bugger all.

I could never get behind that woman who had sex with a swan
- unlike the swan. Why?

To make any sense out of this, we have to get
inside a very perverse and utterly devious mind.

You're kidding? You think all that
dear-little-old-lady thing was just an act?

I'm not talking about her mind. I'm
talking about the mind of Andre Masson.

The guy who was killed?

I'm sorry. Sometimes you could be talking
in Latin, for all the sense it makes.

It's like that stuff with - what was it? -
her buying her goldfish food at the market,

which I dare say had some profound...

The goldfish bowl. Do you know, that could
be the one final possibility I overlooked.

Get your coat.

Sorry, we know it's gone 11, but I won't
sleep tonight unless I check this out.

What are you doing with
that? What's going on?

Sit down, Mrs Pangwitch. I don't think we'll
be bothered by any one-eyed men with swords.

If you spare me a few minutes,
we'll lay this nightmare to rest.

What are dreams, anyway?

A marshalling yard for all the thoughts that
were swilling through your brain during the day,

a great Freudian soup of symbols.

The thing they're not is a window
into events that haven't happened yet.

Instead of lumping those three dreams
together, we should have picked them apart

to see which one didn't fit.

For someone filling their
head with myths every night,

the image of a one-eyed man's not hard to trace.
Polyphemus, the Cyclops from Homer's Odyssey.

And a creature with wings
- how about a Harpy?

Initials RP?

Suddenly, those last two dreams
don't seem that remarkable.

Predicting the death of that
poor girl in a road accident -

I'd hardly call that unremarkable.

Except the dream didn't
predict anything, Mrs Pangwitch.

She was already worried about
flying. The day she's about to go up,

word gets round about
these dreams of yours.

You've already predicted one person's
death, now it's not looking good for her.

Death by a creature with
wings - obviously a plane -

for someone whose initials are RP
- her initials, Rebecca Phillips.

Her husband said she was
out of her mind with worry.

- It was an accident waiting to happen.
- The only real mystery is this murder,

and if we're looking for an explanation in
this world, not out there with the fairies,

we have to assume two things.

Somehow, the exact details of
that shooting were pre-determined,

and somehow, they managed to
find their way into your dream.

Once you read about this Masson, you
realise he was about to be nailed for fraud.

Last ten years, he'd been
creaming off zillions.

We can assume he also wasn't wild
about one of his senior directors,

Craig Downey, doing
the dirty with his wife.

Let's say he's given up the
fight and decided to top himself.

Only to make sure he dies
with a smile on his face,

he's going to make it look
as if Downey murdered him.

At some point, when no
one's around to hear,

he mocks up a recording of what sounds like
someone breaking into his study with a gun.

What are you...? What
kind of madness is this?

Are you insane?

He's locked the door. He's got a g...

No! You are mad!

You would not dare!

Oh, Dieu...

Oh, Dieu... Oh, Dieu.

Downey's away on business.

He plants the CD in his flat. Let's
say he switches it for a Frank Sinatra.

At the same time pocketing a contact
lens, which he'll leave next to his body

as evidence Downey was in the room.

Everything was set.

He scheduled the meeting so
Downey and others would be outside.

What are you...? What
kind of madness is this?

- Are you insane?
- He locks the door himself,

so no one can rush inside and see what was
really happening when they heard that noise.

You would not dare! Oh, Dieu...

Oh, Dieu...

Oh, Dieu.

Downey was outside with
witnesses when they heard the gun.

He's got to be in the clear... or is he?

Not only are the police going
to find his contact lens,

Masson's also left diary entries about Downey
threatening to kill him, probably invented.

So, sooner or later, they're going to tumble
to the idea of a very clever time-shift murder.

They search his flat, find
the CD, prosecution rests.

It's your classic Columbo plot.

Downey shot Masson earlier
in the day, recorded it

and programmed the computer to play it back at
half twelve, giving himself the perfect alibi.

To say that is the most unlikely
scenario I have ever heard...

.. is exactly the point.

No jury alive will believe
it's a set-up. Downey's had it.

And it would have worked, but for one
glitch Masson couldn't have known about.

Downey's flat is burgled.

Along with all the usual stuff -
TV, video, hi-fi - his CDs are taken.

Of all the boggling connections
here, there was one real stumper.

The idea of pre-recording the
murder, I could just about get to,

but how did it get here, into the
dream of a woman living 50 miles away?

The fact that you shopped in a
market had distinct possibilities.

It's not hard to imagine stolen goods finding
their way to some back-of-a-lorry merchant.

Back home that night,
the new discs went in.

By the time our soundtrack comes
round, you've nodded off in your chair.

What are you...? What
kind of madness is this?

What would you think when you wake up?

It was a rather unpleasant nightmare.

NoI You are madI

As a theory, it fitted like a glove,
but it was still just a theory.

This morning, when I'm afraid I took
the liberty of checking it out, no luck.

I found an empty box, but no
computer disc for love nor money.

Till it struck me
- there was one place it could have slid out of sight I hadn't checked.

What are you doing with
that? What's going on?

Of course, if it plays "Fly
Me To The Moon", we're screwed.

What are you...? What
kind of madness is this?

Are you insane?

He's locked the door. He's got a g...

NoI You are madI

You would not dareI

Oh, Dieu...

Oh, Dieu... Oh, Dieu.

Quickly, everybody. Here we go.

Roll it.

Action.

What's happening? I
thought you'd finished here.

Hi. Yeah, we had a faulty neg on one
reverse, can you believe? We had to come back.

The leading actor's
down with food poisoning.

Fortunately, we only see the back of his head.
We needed someone the same size and shape.

Sorry, cut it. We're still catching
the side of your face, Jonathan.

One more, please.

OK, reset, please. Quickly
as you can, everybody.

Yes? Who's that?

Gino? Oh, really? How are you both?

What kind of ideal
arrangement? I beg your p...?!

Take it in turns to sleep
with me?! Am I hearing right?

What?! No! We were just saying sorry
the other night was such a cock-up.

If you wanted to get together
for a beer or whatever, no agenda.

You've got some nerve, the pair of you,

asking me to share my body
with two men on a rota basis.

I'll think about it. Promising
nothing, mind. OK. Bye.

- There's a word for what you are.
- Predictable?

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