Original subtitles

Morning, Brabinger. Morning, madam.

Breakfast is served. Thank you.

(Doorbell and knocking)

Morning, Mr Brabinger. Good morning.

How's your madam today? Difficult to judge on the strength of five words.

Mr Purvis, I presume you have some mail to deliver.

Yes. Let's see now.

Gas, electricity, something from County Hall.

Thank you. That last one can't be too serious.

Mr DeVere at the Manor's got one as well.

Good morning, Purvis.

What do you think? Lord Mortlake is allowing Harborough Hall

to be used in an advertisement for paint.

"However large your painting problem, Garlands Glistening Gloss will solve it."

(Tuts) To think the Mortlakes are reduced to that.

I expect they're well paid for it, madam.

Oh, yes. Plus, of course, the whole house painted for nothing.

Wish we'd thought of something like that when we lived at the Manor.

No, I don't. At least I left in a dignified manner,

without selling our birthright for a pot of paint.

Quite so. I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking it wouldn't have made the slightest difference

because I had to sell up anyway.

I'm lucky the Manor wasn't taken over by the Taunton branch of the Union of Railwaymen.

Perhaps we got off lightly with Mr DeVere, madam.

I wouldn't go as far as that.

What have you got there? The morning mail, madam.

Brown, white, typed or handwritten?

Bill from the garage.

a bill from the electricity board red.

From the gas company.

Just give me the white handwritten ones.

I'm afraid there aren't any, madam.

One from the bank.

First class. They seem to have money to burn.

One from Mr Hobbs the grocer.

Can't be a bill. I paid that last week.

'We regret to inform you that your cheque has..."

Has it, indeed?

'As a result, credit facility is withdrawn. Cash only.

There's something wrong with this country's economy

when old concerns like Hobbs have to ask their customers for cash.

My grandfather never paid them a penny until the day he died.

All his bills were settled out of his estate.

Old Mr Hobbs wrote us a charming letter of thanks,

saying he hoped he'd have the pleasure of serving us for many years.

Standards are falling everywhere, madam.

Particularly at the bank.

Not too serious I hope, madam. The bank manager's quite right.

It is not for him to tell me how I should economise.

I don't think I can face kidneys this morning. Give them to Bertie.

And finally, madam, one large white from County Hall.

Stiff. Stiff. It's an invitation.

Yes! to the Lord Lieutenant's Charity Gala.

Oh. £35 a ticket.

I don't want to go. Same old thing year in, year out.

It's not for me. It's for that wretched Mr DeVere.

I beg your pardon. I didn't notice.

The postman did say he had two the same.

You mean Mr DeVere's got my invitation? It seems so, madam.

Shall I call at the Manor? No, don't do that.

Let him think that I've been invited but he hasn't.

Very good, madam. Now, back to everyday things.

We must ring Hobbs with our grocery order.

I tried that, madam. They refused?

I don't know. Our telephone's been cut off.

Life is becoming rather tiresome. Somehow we must raise money.

I wonder if this would fetch anything. Silver's a good price.

I might have known. If's EPNS.

I always try to keep my hand over that. Quite right, Brabinger.

At the same time, we must eat.

Now, let's think.

I could pretend that letter from the bank didn't arrive till tomorrow, couldn't 1?

You could. It wouldn't be at all unusual.

So, I could write a cheque today in all innocence.

Absolutely, madam.

Where are we going to do our shopping? A supermarket, madam?

What fun. I've never been in one of those places.

Just one small point, madam. They don't take cheques?

They do, but this particular supermarket is a subsidiary of Mr DeVere's grocery empire.

But that's wonderful, Brabinger.

Nothing would please me more than bouncing a cheque on Mr DeVere.

Letter to Dr Tanagucci.

Oh, and, Hilda, I want to sign this one personally.

Dear Dr Tanagucci, thank you for your offer of tinned raw fish,

or crawfish? Your letter does not make this clear.

We would be...

Mother, what are you doing?

Time for coffee.

Strike that last bit.

This is my office, I'm working.

I've got half a dozen girls out there to make coffee for me.

But this is real coffee. Well, they're real girls.

Well, I want to talk to you.

Oh, all right. What is it?

We have a saying in old Czechoslovakia.

The teapot that is left longest grows coldest.

What's that supposed to mean?

It means that I should like to be a grandmother before it is too late.

Oh, all right, send one of the girls in.

Too late for whom? Too late for me.

Too late for you. It's time you got married again.

Now, how have you been getting on with Audrey?

You know perfectly well that, at times, Audrey makes my life very difficult.

But there are other times... When she makes my life impossible.

If you're not careful, some old duke will come and snitch her from under your nose.

I doubt it. She likes this place too much. And she wants it back.

These old families are like runner beans. They flourish when they're tied to a stake.

1 think she wants this place more than she wants to be a duchess.

So, why don't you give it to her?

Will you stop your matchmaking?

For all you know, I might have other plans.

Not Marjory Frobisher.

That would be one in the eye for Audrey.

Oh, drink your coffee.

Oh, what is this?

It's an invitation to the Lord Lieutenant's Charity Gala.

Oh, good, you can ask Audrey to go as your partner.

I can't. I haven't been invited.

Not invited? It's not for me, it's for her.

She's unlikely to ask me to be her partner.

She has to go with someone.

Yes, but not with me. I'm afraid I'm socially unacceptable to her.

But don't worry. I'm working on it.

Working on what? My social position.

(Clears throat) I'm going to make a television commercial.

That will improve your social position?

To be an actor in a television commercial?

They don't want an actor. They want me.

It's for Fauntleroy's Old English Tonic.

You know, the little aristocrat.

They're doing a series on old English houses and their owners.

Richard DeVere, owner of Grantleigh Manor. Is that what they want?

That's right. Just me being my aristocratic self.

The perfect example of British landed gentry.

And they accepted you. Yes.

I think you can say, Mother, that we've arrived.

This will be our opportunity to tell the world.

Oh! We have come a long way together.

I am proud of you.

Oh, and to think that no-one could tell I am not a duchess.

If somebody doesn't serve me in a minute I'l help myself.

Aren't these places wonderful, Brabinger?

No wonder poor old Hobbs are in trouble.

Look. Pâté de foie gras. You can get absolutely everything.

I think we have already.

Don't worry. Mr DeVere or the bank are going to pay for this so we may as well enjoy ourselves.

Just turn your back for a moment, Brabinger.

Dog food. Where's that? Down there, madam.

Oh, they've let us down. They haven't got Bertie's favourite.

Oh! Here's some. You leave that alone.

Beg pardon, Mrs Fforbes.

Hello, Ned. I'm sorry. I've never been in one of these places before.

I can see that, ma'am. Isn't it fabulous?

Oh, it is that. You get the best meat and the freshest vegetables in the county in here.

Except for our home-grown produce. The Grantleigh estate is well known for...

Ned? What are these?

Frozen peas, ma'am. As advertised on television.

Surely you grow your own. I can't grow them like that.

All fresh and juicy when the pods go...

Lovely and ripe and green they are.

Green? Do you have a colour television? Of course, ma'am.

But, Ned, you live in a tied cottage.

Yes, ma'am, but it don't affect reception.

What are they? Best kindling in the world is that.

But there's enough kindling on the estate to keep the home fires burning for ever.

Ah, but this is tarred, you see.

Brabinger, the whole structure of society is falling about our ears.

Whatever will they think of next.

Well, where to now? We need some tonic water, madam.

(American accent) First we have an establishing shot of the Manor

lying in its sleepy valley, with the jingle over it.

Jingle? Music. Sig tune.

Theme song. Whatever they use for this stuff.

Then we cut to this room and you're coming in through the French windows.

Where have I been? It doesn't matter.

It does. I hardly ever come in through the French windows.

Look, we've got exactly 60 seconds to get this message across.

There's no time for method acting or agonising over your motivation.

Just say the words and try not to trip over the camera.

-0K? OK.

We'll go from the top. Er...the beginning.

Now, you come in, cross to that drink's table there,

and while you're crossing, you say...

There are some things we British will always be proud of.

Our families of ancient lineage,

our beautiful country houses.

But there is one way we can all preserve the traditional flavour of English life.

Now, you're at the table, you fix yourself a drink...

..and pour in a splash of the product and say...

Fontleroy's Old English Tonic. The little aristocrat.

Remember to keep the bottle well in view, label to camera.

Great. Now you sit in the chair...

..look lovingly at your glass,

and take a drink. OK?

OK.

Fine. While you're drinking, you say: Just add a touch of class.

I can't do that.

If we wanted Stanislavsky we'd have booked an actor.

Just say the words, please.

I can't speak while I'm drinking. You need a ventriloquist.

You're right. He's right.

So what are we gonna do?

That's the message: Just add a touch of class. He can't say it. Who writes this junk?

Excuse me. May I suggest something? What?

Couldn't you use a whatchamacallit, a voice-through?

Voiceover! Great.

Terrific. We can get Richard Burton.

He can do it in his Churchill voice.

If he's not free, we'll go for the guy who does the sherry.

Let's take it all the way again. OK?

OK.

How much is this toilet roll pack?

Which size? Special offer. Jumbo size.

£3254.

Ah. I'll write a cheque.

That's all right, Mrs Fforbes-Hamilton. Thank you.

Who do I make it out to?

Oh. Date?

Thank you.

£3254.

Thanks. Good morning, Mrs Fforbes-Hamilton. Good morning.

Oh. It's all been most enjoyable.

Thank you, Brabinger.

I'm afraid that's the last of the gin, madam.

But you bought some more tonic this morning. I thought we had another bottle of gin.

I'm sorry. It's all right. Never mind.

Thank you, madam.

Poor Brabinger. We bounced our last cheque this morning.

He feels it very badly.

You should take a job. I've got the local paper here.

The only job I'm trained for is the one I can't do.

Running the Grantleigh estate. Exactly.

The whole place is going to wrack and ruin.

This morning I saw Old Ned buying frozen peas and kindling wood in a supermarket.

It's all the fault of that man over there.

Why? It's his supermarket.

With it he is destroying the nation's moral fibre.

You should have seen the stuff they have in that place.

Do you know that people don't have to shell peas any more?

Since when have you shelled any peas?

That has nothing to do with it.

The point is that all these things, like shelled peas and sliced beans and fish fingers,

give people far too much free time.

With it, they get up to mischief and make nuisances of themselves.

It's the DeVeres of this world who are responsible.

Oh, no!

What now?

There seems to be lights of some sort in the drawing room,

and some very strange-looking people.

Perhaps they're making a film. A film?

People do hire out their houses for that sort of thing.

Do they? Oh, yes.

They hired out Harborough Hall to make a film about vampires.

Very suitable.

But the Mortlakes are impoverished and need the money.

DeVere doesn't, so there's no excuse. Excuse for what?

For what he's doing. You don't know what he's doing.

I shall send Brabinger over to find out.

We'll try it once more and then we'll go for a take, OK?

OK.

Wait. Don't bother going outside.

Better if I pick you up about here.

Er...there.

That's it. You start from there, OK? OK.

Now, remember to keep looking straight into camera and keep smiling.

Ready for a rehearsal and...action!

There are some things we British will always be proud of.

Our...our families of ancient lineage, our beautiful country houses.

But there is one way we can all preserve the traditional flavour of English life.

Fon...Fo...

Where is it? -Cut!

Props! For God's sake, a man in his position would have more than one bottle of the stuff.

Set up a dozen.

I'm sorry, Mr DeVere. You were fine.

But there was something missing, didn't you think?

The bottle? Yeah.

No, no, no. Not that.

There was something still not quite... I got it.

You shouldn't pour the tonic.

If don't pour it, how do I drink it?

Your butler pours it. My butler?

Your butler.

Excuse me, Mr DeVere, madam asked me to come over...

Hold it!

Just right! Terrific!

Now listen to me, Mr er...? Sorry, I didn't get your name.

Brabinger, sir. Yeah. I need a butler. Can you do it?

Well, I don't... Only take half an hour and we'll pay you.

In money, sir?

Plus repeat fees and as much tonic water as you can drink.

Are you interested? Very interested indeed.

It's a long time since I was paid in money for being a butler.

Great.

Brabinger's been a long time. Do you think he's been shanghai'd?

Who'd want to shanghai Brabinger?

DeVere would. Brabinger's the only thing I've got that he hasn't.

You've got DeVere on the brain. Can you see what they're doing?

No. Must be something peculiar, they've drawn the curtains.

Perhaps it's a sex film.

With Brabinger?

You've got sex on the brain.

What are you reading? The jobs column.

There's a receptionist and accounts person wanted at the abattoir.

You wouldn't like that at all. I was thinking of you.

Me? It's a man's job. Women do men's jobs these days.

I don't approve of all this sex equality.

What was wrong with women being the dominant partners?

Do you know they're actually advertising the Lord Lieutenant's Charity Gala this year?

At the price they're charging they should advertise in the Abu Dhabi Telegraph.

I suppose you'll be going with Mr DeVere. Well, you suppose wrong.

I've no right to expect any favours from him. I've thrown all his offers of help back in his face.

And now he'll leave me to stew in my own juice and serve me right.

Especially as I've been invited by the Lord Lieutenant and he hasn't.

Why hasn't he? I've got his invitation. It's on the mantelpiece.

Where's yours? We think DeVere's got it.

So he knows you've been invited, but he thinks he hasn't.

Exactly. I don't mind not being able to afford to go to the Charity Gala,

but I don't care for the fact that my position will be taken by someone

who owns half a dozen quick-fry hamburger houses and wears clip-on bowties.

We have let things go too far, Marjory. That's the price of democracy.

At £35 a ticket it's too expensive.

Democracy's all very well, but why give it to the people?

You ought to let Mr DeVere have this. It's not fair.

You'd like to take it to him, wouldn't you? Yes, I could pop in on my way home.

I can read you like a book. You just want to see what's going on.

So do you. You sent Brabinger across.

Yes, I'm getting rather worried about him.

I'l just take this over and find out what's happening.

If you're hoping for something improper, too late.

They've opened the curtains again.

Have they finished? They're loading things into their cars.

What on earth has happened to Brabinger?

Brabinger, where have you been?

(Slurring) To the Manor, madam.

I asked you to find out what was going on, that's all.

They're making a film. You see, I was right!

What sort of a film, Brabinger?

An advertising film featuring Fontleroy's Old English Tonic Water.

It gives a touch of class.

You look as though you've been given more than a touch of class.

They were kind enough to invite me to endorse the gin, madam.

I presume it met with your approval. Oh, it did. It did.

He's been up there knocking back the gin and I haven't a drop in the place.

I suppose you'll tell me that's democracy as well.

Are we going to see this film, Brabinger? Yes, madam, on television.

It's going to be very good. Very artistic.

First there's a picture of the Manor.

Then Mr DeVere says, "There's still some things which we British care about."

"We British"? DeVere's about as British as the Brandenburg Gate.

What happens next, Brabinger? Well, then, Mr DeVere ooh, by the way,

he's dressed in hunting pink.

Mr DeVere in hunting pink?

Yes, they tried various costumes. That's the one they liked best.

Mr DeVere doesn't know the difference between a fox and a hound.

This is the Dernier Cri,

dragging Grantleigh Manor and all that I hold dear into the mire of commercialism.

We must put a stop to this at once. (Doorbell)

Front door, madam.

Brabinger, you are in no condition to answer my front door.

Go into the kitchen and make a strong pot of tea.

Strong pot of tea, madam.

I'll take this invite over to the Manor, if it's all right with you.

Perfectly. I would not be seen dead at a charity gala with someone who advertises tonic water.

(Doorbell) Why doesn't Brabinger answer that door?

Because you told him not to. Bye, Audrey.

Hi, I'm Bob Roberts. Yes?

Is that your old Rolls parked out there?

That is my Rolls-Royce motorcar, yes.

Is it any concern of yours?

I'm directing the film we're making over at the Manor

and I wondered whether you'd allow us to use your car.

What for? A scene in the film.

I think you'd better come inside. I can't discuss this on the doorstep.

Thanks.

This film you're making, isn't it in fact an advertisement?

Yeah.

Used to interrupt important things on television like show jumping?

It's certainly intended for television,

advertising Fontleroy's Old English Tonic.

Do you imagine I would allow any possession of mine to be exploited in a film about something

that I have never heard of and wouldn't drink even if I had?

You are turning a way of life into a commodity,

to be bought and sold like so many cheeseburgers.

It would never have happened when I lived at the Manor.

You lived at the Manor? Until my husband died,

our family, the Fforbes-Hamiltons, owned this estate for 400 years,

give or take a year or two.

What about Mr DeVere? What indeed?

Well, how long has he lived at the Manor?

About four months, give or take a day or two.

Oh, my God. Please sit down.

The sponsors think that's his ancestral home.

He hasn't got one. At least not this side of Bratislava.

He isn't even English.

I didn't think he looked too comfortable in his red riding gear.

You mean hunting pink.

As he scarcely knows one end of a horse from the other,

he was probably wearing it buttoned up the wrong side with his hat on back to front.

Did you check? Of course not. We thought he knew.

Most unlikely. After all, he came over in 1939 without a word of English

and lived in the East End of London under a tarpaulin.

The sponsors will go spare if they find out.

If they find out? Aren't you going to tell them?

I'm not sure. We might just get away with it.

At least the butler was the real thing.

What butler? DeVere's butler.

He hasn't got one. Oh, yes, he has.

He's a bit dithery, but he's absolutely authentic.

Did you find out his name? We called him Larkin.

He was great once we managed to er...steady his nerves.

I assure you Mr DeVere does not have a butler called Larkin or anything else.

I don't believe it. Who was the butler?

You rang, madam? That's the fella!

Come in, Larkin. I have something to say to you.

Have you been abusing your position,

let alone degrading your profession, by selling gin?

No, madam. Tonic.

I assure you, Mrs Fforbes-Hamilton, he was well worth the money.

Money. Oh, I see.

How could you do a thing like that? And for how much?

That much?

That's repeat fees.

Well, yes, of course, I'm sure my man Brabinger was beautifully authentic.

But I'm afraid nothing else was.

You see, many of our historic houses are no longer lived in by dukes and duchesses.

They're full of Arabs and pop stars or else they've been bought by the Gas Board

and turned into rest houses for exhausted meter readers.

But if it's authenticity you're looking for, you need look no further than this very room.

In my man Brabinger, you have the perfect butler.

And in me...

I'm sure I don't have to labour the point with someone as intelligent as you are.

Yeah. Well...it would get us off the hook and...

I'l have to speak with the sponsors.

I'm sure they'll understand.

They don't want their Old English Tonic turned into a Bratislavan joke, do they?

Morning mail, madam. Thank you. Anything interesting?

This one. Handwritten.

Ooh.

Receipt from the garage.

Receipt from the Electricity Board.

Ditto from the Gas Board.

One from the bank. First class.

Let me see.

Mr DeVere wants to take me to the charity gala, Brabinger.

What do you think? Should I go with him or not?

Hmm, I thought that would shake him.

"Most distressed to hear you wish to close your account with us."

Serve him right, beastly little man!

Don't quite understand this one.

It seems to be signed, "Ever yours, Hilda Green."

Oh, I see. "pp Richard DeVere and signed in his absence."

That's just Mr DeVere showing off.

I'll tell you what, Brabinger.

I will take Mr DeVere to the charity gala.

Will that be expensive, madam?

I think we can afford it now, don't you?

After breakfast, you will write a letter. Something like..."Dear Hilda Green,

will you please inform Mr DeVere that Mrs Audrey Fforbes-Hamilton

will be delighted to take him to the Lord Lieutenant's Charity Gala."

If you can't spell "Lord Lieutenant", leave it out.

You want me to write the letter, madam?

Yes, Brabinger. Then you sign it and put, "pp Audrey Fforbes-Hamilton,

signed in her absence."

(Music on TV)

Hello, Mother. How was that for timing?

I almost didn't make it. The plane was delayed.

You look very smart. Did you change on the plane?

Not quite. Now, is everything ready?

I see you remembered to chill the champagne, this time.

What are you watching? I am watching for your film.

Haven't they shown it yet?

Three days I am sitting here.

And not a sign.

Well, that's good. Why?

It means Audrey hasn't seen it. I don't think she'll approve.

And she's late. That is a woman's privilege.

Maybe, but according to the correspondence Brabinger's been having with Hilda Green,

she's taking me to the gala, so she ought to be on time.

Now, remember, no squabbling.

Well, don't we have a saying in old Czechoslovakia?

"It's the friction in the oyster which makes the pearl.”

No. -Oh.

Now, that's the kind of royal salute I like to hear.

Audrey. How nice of you to call for me.

And how charming of you to be ready. Good evening, Mrs Poo.

I thought we'd have a little glass of champagne before we set off.

Lovely. Audrey, you look delightful.

Yes. Absolutely magnificent.

Well, one tries to look one's best for charity.

Is that a new dress? You seem surprised.

Yes, I am, frankly. You always make yourself out to be poor.

Bedrich! If's on!

Quick, sit down. Hurry. Be quiet.

England's greatness stems from... Oh, isn't it exciting!

families like the Fforbes-Hamiltons... My son on television!

..for 400 years.

What is happening? Don't worry. It's just the teaser.

There are some things of which we British should always be proud.

Our families... It's not true.

..our age-old traditions, and our beautiful country houses.

But there is one way in which we can all enjoy the traditional flavour of English life.

Fontleroy's Old English Tonic.

The little aristocrat.

I bet you can't do the next bit. How much?

Just add a touch of class.

Fontleroy for that ..touch of class.

There is a saying in old Czechoslovakia.

That the cat who eats from the dog's bowl gets her whiskers bitten off.

Watch your step, my girl.

Angry? (Barks)

Congratulations.

I did it out of the best possible motive. Yes. Money.

No. I wanted to save you the embarrassment of living a lie.

Not ashamed of your background, are you? No, I'm proud of it.

Then why borrow mine?

Your background's perfectly presentable - for you.

Yes, I realise that now, but I haven't lost out altogether.

But I got the money. Yes, thank heavens.

It means you won't need to bounce cheques on me any more. £32.54.

I'm sorry. It's all right.

I forgive you.

Pax Britannica. Pax Bratislavica.

Come on. Let's erm... take you and show you off at this charity gala.

I must say, I can't think of a pleasanter way of...

adding a touch of class.

I never thought I'd hear myself saying this, Richard, but...

I can't think of a pleasanter way of adding a touch of money.

(He laughs)