All language subtitles for Shakespeare and Hathaway s02e01 Outrageous Fortune.eng

Good morning.

Morning, squire. Good day.

George Gonzalo, esquire.

Prospero and Brown, legal.

I'm the executor and head
trustee for the estate

of the late Theodore
Athenaeus and this is his dog,

Tim.

This morning he was found
missing, presumed run away.

In addition to your usual fee, my
firm has authorised me to offer

a reward of ?25,000 for his safe return.

- How much?
- How much?

He's worth his weight in gold.

To be precise, 426 times
worth his weight in gold.

At the close of yesterday's stock market,

Tim's net fortune was ?320 million.

Theodore Athenaeus was heir
to a vast shipping fortune.

A misanthrope and a recluse, he
shunned the company of humans.

Tim, it's believed, was a
traveller's dog who became

separated from his camp when giddy
fortune's furious fickle wheel

brought him here the night a great
fire swept through the house.

Now, no-one knows why, but
Tim dashed into the house,

through the flames, roused
Mr Athenaeus from his bed,

saving his life and
earning his undying and,

it transpired, his dying gratitude

and made Tim sole heir to his fortune.

Was he barking mad?

Quite probably.

Though, when the extremely rich
are mad, they're more usually

described as eccentric.

So, who owns Tim now?

Well, no-one does.

No, as executor of Mr Athenaeus's
will, I administer the estate.

His daily care is provided
by a full time staff.

Butler, housekeeper, chef,
stylist, personal trainer,

chauffeur, maid, groomer and gardener.

They've been informed you'd
like to question them.

Wow.

What happens to all of this when Tim...

...passes away?

It will be distributed equally
amongst the 216 animal charities

currently supported by the
Athenaeus Foundation.

Some doghouse.

And the million dollar question is,
why would he run away?

Oh, Gloria!

The vet said he was suffering
and we couldn't have that.

Mind you, he had a good innings.

Goodbye, Kent.

Old and faithful friend.

That's the dry cleaning, sweetheart.

He's still at the vet's until I can...

...make the arrangements.

So, how many staff were here last night?

All.

Except Mr and Mrs Velverdi.

Butler. Housekeeper.

On dirty week in Saunton Sands.

It's English phrase for sexy holiday.

Although why British must
make holiday to have sex...

So, when did you last see Tim?

Yesterday night, 9 pm, I bring
warm milk and sing lullaby.

Always Old Blue his
favourite, it's about a dog.

When I reach chorus, he join in.

A singing dog?

Dogs cannot sing.

I have these.

And this morning?

This morning, I arrive 6.30 with breakfast.

Monday is truffle Kobe beef,
but door open and he's gone.

Mr Velverdi be very angry on return.

How did the door get opened?

He is very clever dog.

We move handle...

...he jump higher.

So, it's not the first time
he's done a runner, then?

He's a bolter all right.

Favourite game's playing
hide and seek with the staff.

The outside doors are always
locked and we exercise in here.

An individual canine fitness programme,

personally structured
to his physical needs.

What's wrong with a good walk?

Yeah, because you love a good walk.

He's a right little Houdini's why.

Only time he doesn't try and slip
his lead is at the cemetery

where the old man's buried.

We take him once a week to lay flowers.

Could he still be in the house?

Not a chance.

We went through the place
with a fine-tooth comb.

We know all his little hiding places.

And he always comes out when he's hungry.

So, how do you think he
got out of the house?

Maybe someone left the door
open while we were searching?

Do you know why he ran away?

He's an ingrat chien.

I'm an animal stylist of
international reputation.

Not that he shows the
slightest appreciation.

What?

- There.
- Right.

- Oh, he bit you. He bit him.
- Oh!

He developed an aversion to diamante.

Before this, I was with
a chicken in Monaco.

He had more style in a single tail feather

than this inelegant mongrel.

How many more of them?

I'm beginning to see why
he ran away. Sebastian.

Have you had any luck?

Not a whisker.

I have checked all local
veterinary practices,

animal hospitals and pet rescue
centres and there's nothing

on the lost dogs website.

- Have you checked the dog pound?
- No.

But, rest assured, I am on it.

Oh, and, just asking, but if we find him,

I do get an employee's
cut of the reward money?

- Of course you...
- No.

We'll discuss it later.

So, where to next?

His master's grave.

Backwards! I didn't mean to, did I?!

Do you know the difference
between reverse and first?

Just stop, Frank, you're not driving!

A crematorium with a difference
in that it allows owners

to be buried alongside their pets.

As well as dogs and cats,
we also cater for snakes,

amphibians, poultry and fish.

Mr Athenaeus was a benefactor
and patron of our ethos...

...and chose us as his final resting place.

When the time comes,

Tim will be scattered beside him.

We were wondering if he might show up here?

It's possible.

One of our most regular visitors.

Every week, without fail,

he comes to lay flowers.

It breaks one's heart to watch
him lying on his master's grave.

Like Greyfriars Bobby.

Not a happy chappy, then, eh?

Quite bereft.

Poor chap developed a lick granuloma

on his paw caused by depression
and had to be referred

to our animal psychologist.

If anyone has insight into
the working of Tim's mind,

it would be Ms Carter.

- Could we talk to her?
- She only works here one day a week.

The rest of the time she's a vet at
the Lord Norfolk Rescue Centre.

He was tied in a sack
and thrown in the river.

Who would do something like that?

The extent of human savagery
to animals has long ceased

to surprise me.

OK, sweetheart, it will all be over soon.

Hang on, that's not...?
You're not going to...?

Intravenous antibiotics.

OK, sweetheart.

You wanted to know about Tim.

Yeah, we believe he's one of your patients?

Tim was referred exhibiting
signs of depression,

brought on by the death of his owner
and subsequent change in lifestyle.

Change?

Mr Athenaeus treated Tim like a dog.

A situation that would have
continued if not for three

little words in the wording of the will.

I love you?

"As would I".

That Tim be cared for as he would.

Of course, he never imagined
they'd take him literally.

So, all the pampering
was because of the will?

Nature turns into revolt
when gold becomes her object.

Tim's a dog, not a human.

Is it any wonder he rebelled and ran away?

Hello, Luella Shakespeare.

Oh, hello, Mr Gonzalo.

OK.

We'll be right there.

It appears he didn't run away after all.

I've received a text
from a withheld number.

?200,000, in used notes,
to be placed in a bin

by the bandstand at noon tomorrow.

Like you could just get hold of
that kind of cash and that...

I've already spoken to the bank.

I don't like it. It's too easy.

And what's to stop them from just
keeping him and then upping the ransom?

Tim's life is not mine to negotiate.

Contractually, and
legally, I have no option.

Right, we need to stake out the drop point,

wait till they pick up
the money and tail them.

Hopefully, they'll lead us to Tim.

If you think that's for the best.

And the next question is, how
did they get in and out of

a house with no sign of a break in?

Have you got any CCTV?

The exterior and grounds only,
but it's already been checked.

- They must have missed something.
- Mm.

We need to take a look at the footage.

So, when you said, "We need to
take a look at this footage",

you actually meant me?

Well, you're more suited to
it then me. In what way?

Well, you know, you've got one of
those weird brains, haven't you?

That was a compliment, by the way.

Which is why you're single!

- What do you think this shadow is here?
- No idea.

Which leaves us with sweet
Fanny Arkwright to go on.

Leaves.

Lea-a-aves!

No leaves...

...leaves.

Leaves, leaves, leaves, leaves...

No leaves. Leaves. No leaves.

Leaves! Yeah, all right, I get it.

This footage has been tampered with
so everything between 23.23 and 4.17

is taken from another night!

Well, the dognappers would
never have time to do that.

Which means...

...there was someone on the inside.

My money's on Wayne McKenzie.

Before he was a personal canine trainer,

he worked as a security guard.

Ah.

Well, if anyone knows how
to fiddle with the CCTV,

then, it's him, isn't it?

I think we need to take a
closer look at Mr Bondi Beach.

Can I bring my binoculars?

No, you won't need them.

Ooh, there we go.

Package is dropped.

Ajay Taxis.

Ajay?

Yeah, erm...

Park, back to the office.

Yeah, on the company account.

Gloria?

Suits you!

A lie, a wicked lie!

Are you looking for somebody?

No.

Yes.

Stupid.

Kent and I always took a
walk at this time and I keep

expecting him to come
bounding up with a stick,

or sloping out of the river covered in mud.

I'm sorry.

I just feel like part of me's missing.

Oh...

That's a bigger birthday
cake than I've ever had.

Poor little rich dog.

There's definitely no love
lost between him and the rest

of the staff, is there?

Perhaps they don't like being dogsbodies!

Are you going to do that all day?

Probably, yeah.

Clear the area!

Move, now! Police! Move, now!

Armed police! Clear the area! Now!

Clear the area!

Get the hell back, Frank!

A member of the public just called
in a suspicious package in that bin.

What?!

It's not suspicious.

We put it there.

Abort! Abort!

Abort! Abort. Abort.

So, what's in it, then?

Er, yeah, it's 200,000 in used notes.

A ?1 million mongrel?

Er, ?320 million actually.

And you didn't report it because...?

Well, the bit where they said,
"No police or the dog dies".

Tim's safety is of paramount concern.

Have you any idea how much
an operation like this costs?

And as for you...

Oh, wait, hang on,
let's not blame us, here.

Really, we should be blaming an
over-vigilant member of the public.

These persons were acting
under my instructions.

I take full responsibility.

I should charge you for
wasting police time.

Placing ?200,000 in a public
waste bin may be foolhardy,

but it is not in contravention of any law.

Well, if you wish to dispute it,
please, feel free to contact my

firm's criminal department.

That won't be necessary.

?200,000 ransom drop for a dog...

Yeah, that's novel!

Even for you, Frank!

Does this put Tim's safety at risk?

Possibly.

I mean, the drop was chaos,
the police got involved.

We just have to hope the
kidnappers get back in touch.

And, in the meantime, we should
really try and track down

whoever's working for them on the inside.

Er, no, I don't think so, thank you.

The best-laid schemes.

On the bright side, those background
checks on Wayne McKenzie...

Privacy settings on all his social media,

so I sent him a friend request.

I am never refused!

Anyhoo, it seems Wayne turned
30 a couple of days ago,

had a bit of a party.

Oh, look! Aw, good for him!

But look where he held it.

While the butler's away,
the mice, they do play.

I'd better go and have a
word with him. Er, alone.

I think this is a job for bad cop.

I can do bad cop!

I wouldn't say it's your natural m?tier.

We had a party.

What's wrong with that?

Well, I tell you what, why
don't we ask your boss, eh?

Mr Velverdi.

Velverdi? Wellworthy.

Wellworthy, him, yes!

Because he's coming back off holiday
in a couple of days, isn't he?

No.

All socialising is strictly
forbidden on premises.

We lose jobs.

Ah.

So...

...you turn off the CCTV
and, while you're...

...carousing,

someone sneaks in and takes the dog.

We weren't to know.

Who was at this party? Just staff.

Aah.

Anyone else know about it?

Of course not. Look, we
just wanted some fun.

You've no idea what this job's like.

Waiting hand and foot
on a bleedin' mongrel?

Are you going to report us?

Oh, let's just...

...wait and see if he turns up.

And you're sure it's Tim?

I'm afraid I was unable to look.

Miss Carter identified him.

Have we your permission to
transport the loved one?

Yes.

Thank you, Mr Baxter.

Rest assured, he will receive the very best

that money can provide.

His final ensemble...

...along a Gothic theme.

I'm thinking leather and jet.

Poor Tim!

Poor us!

That's 25K down the drain!

Oh, you're all heart, Frank!

Kidnapper very stupid.

Why kill golden moose?

Why're you asking me?

The police got involved.

If it's an organised gang of dog thieves,

perhaps it's a warning to others.

It could have been an accident.

I see no signs of trauma.

It's possible he was sedated and
they miscalculated the dosage.

Could you do a postmortem?

There will be no postmortem.

Tim suffered enough indignity in life,
without being further subjected in death.

No, he will be cremated and
scattered next to his master,

in accordance with his will.

Could we have a quick word?

It's...

It's just we're wondering about
the staff, because we do know

that the kidnapper had inside help.

Then it's a matter for the police.

My firm's obligation ended with
Tim's death, as does yours.

You're welcome to the funeral,
when you can present me

with your final invoice.

My sincere condolences for your loss.

Thank you for coming.

Thank you.

- That's, er, your invoice.
- Oh.

It's quite a turnout.

Mr Athenaeus specified no
expense be spared in giving Tim

the send-off he deserves.

Remember! Social niceties!

Anatole France said, "Until
one has loved an animal,

"a part of one's soul remains unawakened".

So it was with Mr Athenaeus and Tim...

...an animal who provided a lonely

old man with unconditional love,
loyalty and companionship

in his twilight years.

May your spirit go in peace to the light.

Stop!

Stop, stop, stop, stop!

Stop! Stop the coffin!

Stop the coffin, no!

No, stop the coffin!

Sorry.

Erm...

I can explain.

Can you?

Yes.

Erm...

It's OK, it's OK, Frank.

- Don't be sad.
- Oh...

The thing is that, erm...

...Frank's dog passed away recently.

Passed away.

It was run over by a car.

And, erm...

And the thing is, Frank
never really got a chance

to say goodbye to...

Oh, he was a good dog, too!

I know, I know.

And so, today, this has all
been just a bit too much.

Let's get you home, shall we?

Come on.

Let it all out.

A-a-agh!

Sorry.

What the hell were you doing?!

Trying to stay on the case.

I don't know which dog was in that coffin,

but it wasn't Tim.

OK, see that?

That is a lick granuloma.

And?

And the dog they cremated didn't have one.

What, meaning Tim might still be alive?

Meaning the reward money...

...is still up for grabs.

Well, why didn't you tell Mr Gonzalo?

Well, he wouldn't believe me.

Especially as they'd just
incinerated the proof.

Why fake Tim's death when
no-one stands to benefit?

Apart from a load of animal
charities he patronised?

Didn't Mr Baxter refer to
Mr Athenaeus as a patron

and benefactor? Yes, look!

Here, the Happier Hunting Ground
Bereavement Support Service.

Chair, Leonard Baxter esquire.

Who, coincidentally, has an
unlimited supply of canine corpses.

320 million divided by 216 charities is...

Is...

- A lot of money?
- A lot of money.

Sebastian! Sebastian!

Thank you for doing this.

I thought it might be a
bit close to the bone.

Any pun, on this occasion,
entirely unintentional.

Happy to help, sweetheart.

It saves sitting around moping.

And, who knows, this might
be what I'm looking for.

In the hour of your
bereavement, may I welcome you

to the Happier Hunting Ground, Mrs...?

Bolton.

Vi Bolton.

VB Cargo, taking the hate out of freight.

And this is my son...

...Kanya.

Say hello to the gentleman, Kanya.

You all right...

...chuck?

The Farewell Room, where you
can make a private goodbye

before entrusting your loved one to us.

And, er, after he's been entrusted?

He'll rest in an ambient
temperature in our mortuary.

Frozen?

Preserved, fresh and intact,
until the final send-off.

We offer a full funeral
package including minister,

music and a wake for an all-inclusive price

of ?2,000.

Ahem, plus VAT.

After which you'll receive between
3.5% and 4.5% of your loved one's

body weight.

These can be turned into
symbols of remembrance.

Key rings, beads, silver-plated
paw print cufflinks.

Mmm, very nice.

We also have a tattooist, who will
mix a portion of your loved one's

ashes with ink, to create
a more permanent reminder.

Can I get a tattoo?

Not until you're 18.

And, for our most discerning
clients, which, if I may say so...

Shrouds don't have pockets, and,
"If you've got it, spend it", is my motto.

Quite.

In that case, for ?15,000,
we can provide a magnificent

memorial diamond,
made from your loved one's ashes.

We'll take it.

- All of it?
- Apart from the tattoo.

And the cufflinks. We do
have some standards.

Kanya, you're crossing your legs.

Why don't you pop into
the little boys' room

while Mr Baxter and I crunch some numbers?

I hope to hear from you soon.

I'll be in touch.

Oh, there you are.

Say goodbye to the gentleman.

Goodbye to the gentleman.

Did you get what you wanted, sweetheart?

Yes, thank you.

And you? A quote for ?20,000.

I don't know what's wrong
with a shoebox in the garden

and a bit of a cry.

Kent's a little large for a shoebox
and you don't have a garden.

There's got to be
something better than this.

Tim has a deceased...

...doggelganger.

Stop it! I swear, the next
person to make a dog joke...

- No, I... I mean it.
- OK.

Rex, a seven-year-old lurcher cross,
who died three weeks ago from,

suffice to say, natural causes.

Delivered to the Happier Hunting
Ground where he was deep-frozen

before being cremated and
turned into a memorial bracelet.

But Baxter kept him in the freezer

and that's the dog we cremated yesterday?

But that doesn't make sense.

Why would somebody steal
Tim and then fake his death

using a different dog?

I don't know, but if Tim's alive
Baxter might lead us to him.

And he lives above the shop, so
he should be easy to stake out.

He that is thy friend indeed,

He will help thee in thy need.

If thou sorrow, he will weep.

If thou wake, he cannot sleep.

Thus, of every grief in heart,

He with thee doth bear a part.

Have you ever had a dog?

Just the one, Blue.

Died in a hit-and-run.

Nah, it's too much responsibility.

It's like having a kid, but it won't
look after you in your old age.

I always wanted a dog.

Or a cat.

But Mother was allergic to dander.

Dander?

Got a chameleon, though.

- Called it Karma.
- You don't say?

You know?

Like, as in Culture Club.

- Mmm.
- Yeah.

Oh, those were the days!

Let's play, "What Dog Am I?"

- Let's not!
- Oh, come on!

Come on, it's fun. Go on.

So...

If I was a dog, what breed would I be?

- No idea.
- Yeah, you do, go on.

Everybody looks like a dog.

I don't.

Hello!

Yes!

- Old English sheepdog!
- What?!

Yeah! All big and shaggy,
all that salt-and-pepper hair.

Ha!

So, go on, then.

I know what you're thinking.

- I'm not thinking anything.
- Yeah, you are.

Everybody says it, so...

Go on.

Go on, say it.

- Poodle.
- Golden retriever...

A poodle?

A poodle?!

What do you mean, I look like a poodle?!

Well, because of the...

...the froufrou.

The frou... The frou... Why would
you say poodle?! Well... Frou?!

Thanks! Thanks a lot, Frank.

"Oh, morning, Frizzy Poodle Frou!"

I didn't want to play this
game in the first place!

All right, you're a golden retriever.

Happy now?

No, it's too late, isn't it, now?

- Morning, campers!
- Mmm.

Did you get out of the
wrong side of the bed?

Spit it out, will you?

Hmm.

Leonard Baxter, aged 53,
no record of any marriage,

clean credit check,
no criminal convictions.

- Well, that was a waste of time.
- Don't mention it!

Anything else I can help you with?

- No.
- Yes.

Sebastian?

If I was a dog, what breed would I be?

Golden retriever.

Absolutely no hesitation,
there, whatsoever.

Baxter never leaves this place.

I'm beginning to wonder if we're
barking up the wrong tree.

- Eh, barking up the wrong...
- Yeah.

I'm not in the mood now, it's not funny.

...tree.

LNRC...

Hmm.

Ooh!

Baxter is not the only person who's
got access to canine corpses, is he?

Dog B's owners were
referred to Antigone Carter

for bereavement counselling.

Look, I reckon...

...that this ransom video was made at
the Lord Norfolk Rescue Centre.

Can you see that?

Don't just sit there, drive!

Mr Gonzalo, it's Frank Hathaway.

Yeah, we've got some new information.

Could you meet us at the
Lord Norfolk Rescue Centre,

in Old Town?

Yeah.

Oh, Miss Carter.

Where is the dog?

At last count, we have 45.

Was there one in
particular you had in mind?

Well, we know the dog you cremated
yesterday was a seven-year-old

lurcher cross named Rex.

This was taken here.

It's very clever, hiding
a dog in plain sight.

And why on Earth would I do such a thing?

That is a very good question.

It's nonsensical!

Well, in that case, you won't
mind if we make a search?

Be my guest.

Oh, look!

Hello!

Hello! Ooh!

Sorry.

You appear to be one missing.

Thibault. A Staffordshire Bull Terrier.

He was re-homed this morning.

Oh, really?

Well, how do you explain this, then?

Do you remember the portrait, Frank?

It's Tim's, isn't it?

Miss Carter?

Yes. It's Tim's.

The staff donated all his belongings
to the centre when he died.

Oh, of course.

You have my apologies.

We've taken up too much of your time.

Before we go, could we just
take a look through here?

Thanks.

This is from here.

That shadow is caused by that
light shining through that sticker

onto the floor. Can you see that?

You call that evidence?

A court of law would not.

As to why a distinguished veterinary
surgeon such as Ms Carter

would kidnap Tim and bury
a dead dog in his place,

the idea is ludicrous!

And what about this place?

Another beneficiary of
Tim's will, I presume?

No, you presume wrong,
as neither Ms Carter nor

this institution stands to gain so
much as a penny from Tim's estate.

I can only apologise for such
unwarranted accusations

and reiterate these persons
are no longer engaged by me.

Continue to pursue the matter
and I shall be forced to regard

this as harassment and
take action accordingly!

I was sure we were right.

Did you see her face?

I know we were.

Staffordshire Bull Terrier, my backside!

Well, where's Tim, then?

I mean, it's not like she knew
we were coming and she had time

to hide him.

Unless she did know we were coming.

How?

The only person we told...

- ...was Mr Gonzalo.
- Gonzalo.

Not so fast, Speedy Gonzalo!

You two were in it together, weren't you?

Did you offer her a cut of the money?

Money?!

320 million, which was yours to distribute.

No-one would notice if
a few million went astray.

Oh!

And you told Ms Carter we were on our way

so she could hide Tim.

I know he's here somewhere.

You have already searched the
place and ascertained he is not!

Well, maybe we didn't look properly.

I can explain.

We're all ears.

Hello!

Ms Carter and I often
talked of Tim's predicament.

I counselled Rex's owners
and they were struck

by the similarity.

So, I switched his corpse
with one from here

while we waited for the right opportunity.

Which came when I heard the staff
talking about having a party,

that they would switch off the
CCTV while it was taking place.

It seemed too good an opportunity to miss.

320 million. I bet it did!

The trust is rigorously audited, it
would be quite impossible for me

to embezzle from it.

So, why did you kidnap him, then?

Don't you see?

It wasn't kidnap, it was a rescue.

Tim can't see a mansion,

only the bars of a cage,

locked up and isolated.

Ah, there you are, dear fellow!

Hello, Tim.

Come on, boy, come on!

Let's get you out of
here, come on, let's go!

That's it, that's it.

Got the rabbit!

We couldn't stand by and
watch him being tortured.

You tipped off the police
about the ransom drop?

I'm afraid so.

We had to make it look like Tim was dead

in order to get probate, so
distribution should undo excess.

The money would go to worthy charities,

helping thousands, if not
millions, of animals.

And Tim can be found a happy home
where he can lead a normal life.

Where do we go from here?

Well, that is up to you.

If you report us to the police
he'll be sent back and we will both

face lengthy prison sentences.

Oh...

We're not going to
report you to the police.

Are we, Frank?

Well, hold your horses.

There is the small matter
of the reward money.

Ah.

Stumbling block.

Tim would have to be declared alive
and be sent back to Miranda Park

for the rest of his natural life.

Oh, cheer up, Frank!

You made the right decision.

It's 25 grand!

And poor Tim would spend the
rest of his life being tortured.

Kobe beef for breakfast is hardly torture,

and it's 25 grand!

What price his pound of flesh?

?400 sterling.

Well, I'm happy to forego my share.

Me too. You didn't have a share.

Well, then, you definitely
made the right decision!

So, what happens to him now?

He's a stray from the Lord Norfolk
and he needs a foster home.

Just for a few days.

You're very sweet, and I know
what you're trying to do,

but it's too soon. I'm not ready yet.

I understand.

Oh, poor little thing!

It looks like he needs a hug.

Oh!

Well, if there's absolutely nobody else...

Just for a few days, mind.

Don't say a word.

Red setter...

...and an Afghan.

- Poodle!
- Poodle!

Ooh, check out the jacket
on that Scottish terrier!

You two are making this up!

All right, him.

- Bulldog.
- Bulldog. Ah!

Oh, come on, you've got to
admit it, Frank. We're right.

Gloria!

How's, erm...?

Jim.

Seb's suggestion.

And it suits him, he seems to answer to it.

Gloria, if I was a dog,
what breed would I be?

- Golden retriever.
- Ah!

Thank you!

Ah, someone looks happy.

Oh, we're getting on like a house on fire.

And he seems a fellow Joan Baez fan.

Bit of a picky eater, mind you,
which is odd for a stray.

Still, I wouldn't be without him.

Worth his weight in gold.

You don't know the half!

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