All language subtitles for up.the.women.1e01.dvdrip.x264-ghouls

"Now place the metal end of the bulb
into the round socket,

"aligning the gaps in the rim with
the allied part of the bayonet."

Bayonet?!

Did this come with a...

Mrs Unwin,

have you seen a big metal spear

- that fits on to the barrel of a rifle?
- Um,

no. No, I don't think so. Um,

perhaps ask Mrs Cracken
from the Plums Institute?

Maybe they used it for de-stoning.
Oh, how exciting

to have the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle
illuminated by science.

Well, I haven't managed to get
the thing on yet. It might go poof

- and set the place alight.
- Oh, yes...

Do you know,
I don't really understand these things,

but I'd always assumed
that wouldn't happen because

the melting point of the glass
is higher than

the non-reactive gas inside the bulb,
rendering it impossible.

Or something.

- Shall I explain it to you?
- Er,

yes, would you?

- Would you, Mr Millar?
- Well, when the, er...

the... the, er, the, er, the, er...

oh, the, er, er, er...

The filament?

Yes, the filament, er, gets heated up by

the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the,
the, the, the, er... the... Oh...

- Electricity?
- The electricity, yes, yes.

The electricity gets hot and lights up,

but it, er, it, er,
it, er, it, er, it, er...

- Doesn't burn because there's no oxygen?
- Yes! That's it!

That's it. Do you understand it now?

Yes, yes, much clearer.
Thank you, Mr Millar.

Oh, Margaret, what excitement!

- Our very own lightning bulb!
- Yes. Mr Millar is cautiously optimistic.

- I'm optimistically cautious.
- And I'm optimistically optimistic.

Frank is marvellous,

you can't go wrong with thighs like that.

So good to have you back at
the craft circle, Mrs Von Heckling.

- How is your arm?
- Oh, fine, dear, thank you. Why?

Well, I heard last week you had
the most excruciating tapestry elbow.

Oh, yes.

I could barely pick up a needle.

So you'll be continuing with your
Wexford Cathedral cross-stitch today?

I'd love to,

but I've developed
the most horrendous bout

of haberdasher's knuckle.

See, look. I can't do this.

You have an alluring glow
about you tonight.

Are you wearing a different collar?

Ah, I know what it is!

You've taken a lover!

In a way, yes.

Oh... Sono felicissimo, molto erotico!

No, no, no,

this is not an affair of the flesh,
Mrs Von Heckling, I'm a married woman.

- Well, it's never stopped me.
- No,

I have fallen in love...

Yes?

...with the women's suffrage movement.

Oh.

Look, they gave me a rosette badge!

Oh, really?

And today I intend to propose
to everyone, and Helen,

but mainly Helen, that
the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle

become the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle
Frankly Demands Women's Suffrage!

So, no lover at all?

No. No, no.

Although I did write a poem
about Ovid last week.

Do you want to hear that?

Is it long?

Well, it's more like a letter really.

Oh, good.

To Ovid From Margaret-
we're on first-name terms.

You were of Roman descent,
Wrote epic poems in Latin 'til spent.

I wish to have known you,
To worship and own you,

But alas I am wed

And you're dead.

Is that it?

The "spent" bit is quite suggestive,
don't you think?

No.

I'm here! I'm here!

- Oh, good
- Helen, Emily.

Ignore Emily. She is sulking
because I've confiscated her EM Forster.

That man's work
is nothing but erotic filth.

Any title in particular?

Mother. You're out of bed, I see.

Yes, your charming maid
begged me rise for my own good.

Oh! I see we're lumbered with
another ridiculous fad

that will waste our money
and break down every ten seconds.

What is electricity, Mr Millar?

Really?

Well, it, er, it, er, it...

w-w-well, it...

Simply put, Helen, um, it's just

electrons travelling along a metal wire
carried by energy.

We don't need electricity.

Where's it all heading?

Electric hats? Electric shoes?

Electric chairs? Huh!

Are you sure you're all right
up there, Mr Millar?

Mrs Unwin, putting in a light bulb
is a difficult and dangerous business

that requires stamina and concentration.

So, if you wouldn't mind?

- Yes, I know. I'm sorry.
- No, no, no. No, I'm sorry.

Ripped By mstoll

There's definitely
something wrong with this bulb.

I'll have to go and get help.

Poor dear Mr Millar,
thrust into this modern age

with no clue what he's doing.

Ladies. I'll be back in a mo.

Helen, I wanted
to talk to you about something -

pertaining to the Craft Circle.

When the circle is convened,
I will ask for motions

and then you may put yours forward.

- Yes. But I...
- Good evening, everyone.

Oh, goodness, it's frosty out there.

I've had to swaddle Mother again
and she really does put up quite a fight.

So good to see you, Gwen.

Oh, because of the chill, I've made us
two sponges and a ginger parkin.

Oh, well done, well done, Gwen,
what a lovely wife you'd have made.

Oh, thank you.

Yes. It's such a shame about your teeth.

Well, if you'll excuse me
I'll just go and prepare the tiffin.

So may I tell you about my...

In due course, Margaret. In due course.

- This is not a shepherds' jamboree!
- Yes, sorry.

Sorry I'm late.

Liberty and Chastity
have been a bit poorly.

I feel so guilty leaving the little
rabbits at home when they're sick.

Eva, how are your little rabbits...
children?

Chastity, she's got a tickly cough,
Liberty, she's got itchy gums.

And the others?

Patience, Providence and Prudence,

they were so dreadfully darling
tonight at supper.

They performed Little Nell's death scene.

They covered their faces in flour
and then they had strawberry jam

dribbling out the corner of their mouths
to be the blood.

And the others?

Justina, Ernestina,
Constance and Clemence,

they were selling us the little tickets.

And the others?

Oh, Charity, Virginity,
Abstinence and Moderation,

they were playing funerals.

It's utterly their favourite game.

They made themselves
little black armbands, so sweet.

And the others?

John was playing cricket.

On his own?

Well, he's a biter.

I don't know how you manage, Eva,

with only a cook, two nannies,
a housekeeper and an undermaid.

Oh, you know, we muddle through.

Tiffin! Tiffin!

- Oh, ooh...
- Oh, Gwen, let me help you.

- Oh, thank you.
- Oh!

- Oh, no. Hang on.
- All right.

Sorry, cakes, cakes, cakes.

Stay down, Gwen! Stay down!

Stay down. Cakes.

Goodness!

Oh, lovely, thank you, thank you.
Thank you.

- Can I stand up now?
- Yes, Gwen! Yes, yes.

I'm so sorry!

I would like to bring this meeting

of the Banbury
Intricate Craft Circle to order.

There's nothing to call to order, Helen.

We're all just sitting here
pretending to sew.

Some of us are sewing, Mother.

Just me then.

- May I put forward my motion, Helen?
- Not yet.

If I might recap on last week's circle.
A rather poor turnout.

As we were not quorate,
I saw no need to keep minutes,

but our faithful wife of the needle,
Miss Gwen Rapier...

Better than wife of nothing, Gwendoline.

...has undertaken the task
of sewing our very own

Banbury Intricate Craft Circle Banner.

How does it look, Gwen?

Well, the letters are complete
but I thought I would brighten it

with an appliqué work border
of my own design.

What is that... pattern, Gwen?

Penis.

I beg your pardon?

Penis.

- Oh, peonies.
- Yes.

Yes. Penis.

I've never seen one that big.

Oh, I have.

Do you not like it?

No, no, I think they're splendid...
splendid, Gwen.

If only one could capture the smell.

How is your Madame Bovary, Margaret?

Rather frustrated by
the lack of colour in the threads

but the bulging eyes
are medically accurate.

Helen, might I address?

Not yet!

When I invite anyone to put a motion,
then you may speak.

How is your Battle of Waterloo
coming along, Helen?

Yes, well, it...
it's quite a challenging subject.

Yes, indeed. Why don't you show us?

No, no. No need.

Oh, do.

- No, no, no.
- Oh, yes, do!

- You must!
- Come on, Helen!

Well, the challenging aspect is in
capturing the motion of the horses.

Will it be a cushion cover?

Yes. No. Possibly a chair panel
for the guest room.

Mr Millar! Where have you been
secreting this delightful neophyte?

You remember Thomas,
Reverend Grisham's little boy?

So grown!

Mrs Unwin, Miss Rapier, Mrs Bute.
Miss Emily...

Right, Master Grisham, let's see
what the undergraduate can do.

He's a medical student!

Let me see the instructions, Mr Millar.

"Push, then twist the bulb to insert
the metal bayonet

"into its corresponding niches."

And...

Ah! It's in!

- Is it?
- Yes.

Ladies, it's in!

Oh, well, that's one job
we'll neverhave to do again.

It's so exciting! So how do
you light it through the glass?

One applies a counterclockwise action
to this rotarian knob.

Are you going to turn it now?

- Yes.
- Oh, goodness.

Sit down, Emily.

Shall I dim the gas lights
for extra effect?

- Why not?
- Yeah.

- Whoo!
- Now shade your eyes, ladies.

This bulb is the full 40 watts,
better safe than sorry.

- Ridiculous.
- Shall we count down?

Ooh, yes, let's! 100!

99!

98!

Seven! Six!

Five! Four!

Three! Two! One!

Electricity!

Ah...

Oh...

I think perhaps the bulb is faulty.

Well, I have another one.
Ladies, we shall be back anon.

It's very dim. How would one read?

One would pick up a book.

Yes, it's hard to see
how this would replace the candle.

My Charlie says that electricity is
going to keep women off their feet.

Yes, he clearly prefers them
on their backs.

Well, that's never going to catch on.

Would now be a good time, Helen?

- Wait!
- I really would like to...

Does anyone have a motion
they wish to put forward?

Yes.

Is it safe to look now?

Oh, yes. Yes, Gwen.

Oh...

I have something I would like to discuss.

Does anyone have a motion
they would like to put forward?

Yes, I do.

Yes, I do...

...have a motion
I would like to put forward.

Margaret?

- Yes.
- Please proceed.

Thank you, Helen.

Um, when I was in London...

Not at all.

...on my yearly outing visiting
my mother-in-law, she took me to

The Royal Geological Society's
annual lecture on sediment.

Is this a motion or a digression?

I may simply precis this part
as "Margaret talks silt".

Well, after we parted
and I began my journey home,

I was accidentally caught up in
a women's suffrage rally in Hyde Park.

Show them your badge!

- Yes.
- Oh.

Does your husband know you're
cavorting with skirted anarchists?

No.

Goodness, Margaret!

I tell my Charlie everything!

Were there no men there at all?

Well, none that I could see.

Sounds as much fun as a burst boil.

What was the rally for, Margaret?

Women's suffrage.

I don't know what that means.

- Votes for women.
- And your husband approves of this?!

Well, I think we've established
he doesn't actually know.

- So you're keeping it from him?
- Well, no, no, I don't like to tell him

because he's been very melancholic
since Nietzsche's death.

This may tip him over the edge.

Who was Nietzsche?

A bit like Shockheaded Peter,

- but much crosser.
- Oh.

Margaret, have you become a suffragette?

Well, Gwen, I feel that women
should have equal rights in society.

So you are a suffragette!

No, Margaret can never be a suffragette.

They're all mannish, flat-fronted

bottom-heavy spinsters, aren't they?
Sorry, Gwen!

Oh, I've read that they've
malformed heads and webbed hooves!

No, they don't.

She speaks!

No, she doesn't. Sit down, Emily.

What has this to do with
the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle?

It's my motion that
the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle

becomes the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle
Frankly Demands Women's Suffrage!

- Yes!
- No!

Votes for women!

Sit down, Emily.

Women do not need the vote.

The present system works perfectly well.

My husband votes
for whom I tell him to vote.

What could be a better system than that?

If you could just have been there, Helen.

Hyde Park was thronging with
women in purple, white and green.

We all surged forward as one heaving she.

300,000 voices chanting,

up the women!

Up the women! Up the women!

We chorused, united in strength
and purpose, singing...

Margaret, do you wish to turn
the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle

into a rabid hotbed
of licentious freethinkers

bent on a path
of wanton self-gratification?

Yes, we do.

Sit down, Emily.

No.

You see! It's happening already.

I bought you all rosettes.

- Do you want one, Gwen?
- Oh, it matches my coat.

Do you want one, Eva? Emily?

May I take one, Mother?

- Absolutely not!
- Do you want one, Helen?

No, thank you!

Pssst. Gwen.

- Do you want one?
- Well...

Yes, Helen?

I need to speak to you urgently

- in the kitchen.
- All right, Helen.

I tell you what might be fun.

Why don't you bring your cakes
and your sewing basket?

Yes, Helen.

How quickly can you make me a rosette?

How big do you want it?

This big.

Do you want any letters embroidered on it?

Yes, B-A-S-L.

What does that stand for?

Banbury... Anti-Suffrage League!

But that's...

Yes, it is, Gwen, and in a moment
I shall explain to you

how the survival of our very universe
depends on this!

I'm not sure, Helen.

Do you want the human race to die out?

No!

Then get stitching!

Banbury Intricate Craft Circle
Frankly Demands Women's Suffrage.

Yes.

I can think of another F word that
might make people sit up and take notice.

Thank you, Grandmama!

Fondly! I was going to say "fondly"!

Fondly desires?

A bit racy, isn't it?

No.

What about politely requests?

Oh, that's perfect.

Yes.

Yes. And then Gwen can add the letters
onto her banner.

Where is Gwen?

Oh, look at your rosette!

BASL, what does that stand for?

The Banbury Anti-Suffrage League.

What?!

It's fine, Emily,
Helen's going to save the universe.

I would like to invite you all
to the very first

Banbury Anti-Suffrage League
meeting in the kitchen.

The Anti-Suffrage League?

I am the founder member,
chairman and secretary.

Gwen is interim head of refreshments
and rosettes.

You will of course all be issued

with your very own 11-inch rosette
once you've joined.

I know you're upset
because Margaret's got a bit of attention

but for goodness' sake,
don't be so childish.

Is it childish to know that this

ignorant, innocent, irrational,
emotional creature

is simply not capable

of shouldering the burden of a nation?

And what about when she comes
to cast her ballot?

How will she write with her
billowing sleeves in the way?

Oh, don't be ridiculous, Helen,

Gwen owns nothing with billowing sleeves.

The ginger parkin,
Victoria sponge with cream andjam,

and 11-to-12-inch rosettes

- are in the kitchen.
- Mmm...

Ginger parkin's baby's favourite.

Emily!

Gwen!

So sorry, Margaret.

It's all right.

- It's all right.
- What would Mr Moore say, Eva?

And what if you were to go on one
of those suffragette rallies and die?

Think about those poor little
orphaned rabbits,

with no-one but a cook, two nannies,
a housekeeper and an undermaid

between them and the workhouse?

I'm just going to go and check on
Gwen. She did seem awfully upset.

Mother, are you coming?

It is never easy taking a stand,

never easy going against
the tide of public opinion

and standing up for
what you believe to be right and moral.

I just feel awful.

I don't want the universe to end,
Helen, I really don't,

and I know that Jesus would much
prefer it if I didn't vote,

because he doesn't want
to put me under too much strain,

and that I am innocent and ignorant

and irrational and...
and what was the other one?

Emotional.

Emotional, yes,

and I am really so very honoured to
be asked to be head of refreshments

for the Banbury Anti-Suffrage League.

Interim head of refreshments.

Yes, I know, of course.

But do you think
I could just please, please,

take Mrs Von Heckling and Margaret
a slice of Victoria sponge?

No.

I know what went wrong last time.

You're not meant to wash
these blighters in the sink

before you use them.

Where is everyone?

Our suffrage group has fractured.

Helen has started an
anti-suffrage league in the kitchen.

Righty-oh. What are you doing
on the board there, Mrs Unwin?

I'm attempting to heal
that fracture, Mr Millar,

with a Persian algorithm.

Good luck.

Would you like me to explain it to you?

If you could, Mrs Unwin.

Yes, right, well, we have the hall
for one hour every week,

factoring in the possibility that the
Rare Plums Institute may overrun

and calculating that we absolutely cannot

encroach on the time allocated for
the Horologists League,

we split the hour in half.

The first half an hour goes to
the BICCPRWS,

the second spent discussing
the virtues of the BASL.

Both groups are entitled to equal cake,
large rosettes and a cup of tea,

in conclusion, pleasing everyone.

There's a problem here.

Is there? Are you sure?

If you wouldn't mind, Mrs Unwin,
may I make a correction?

Be my guest, Mr Millar.

Women's suffrage is a fascinating subject,
one I am most passionate about.

Are you?

I am all for passion of every kind.

Yes, I... I think that's correct.

"You can't please everyone."

Yes, I see what you've done there,
Mr Millar.

There's only so much you can get
out of books, Mrs Unwin.

I have a first-class degree
in common sense.

Have you, Mr Millar?

I had no idea there was such a thing.

There isn't.

Oh, right, yes.

Mrs Unwin, if I might just say...

I have such tremendous respect
for your cause,

that the essence of a person's character,

why, their very soul,
can be unseen due to our inability

to penetrate beneath the corset bones,

weighs as heavy on my heart

as if our land were in
the fierce grip of a foreign power.

I for one cannot rest
until that corset has been...

...has been ripped from the body
of society's consciousness.

I am your humble servant

and if there is anything I can do,
you only have to ask.

Actually, Thomas, I wondered
if you'd look at my knitter's knee?

Yes?!

Hello, ladies. Helen, may I speak?

- Please do.
- Yes. I've just completed

a complex algorithm - Persian -

and I've come to the reductio ad absurdum
truth that you can't please everyone.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Well, in layman's terms, what can we do
so we can all be friends again?

It's very simple.

You ask my opinion,

everyone's opinions,

then we have a debate and then we vote.

I thought you didn't want a vote, Helen.

Well, I do,

so that I can vote against voting.

But then you'd be voting.

Yes, in order not to vote.

Well, that's absurd, Mother.

Be quiet, Emily!

Well?

- I'm not saying we're not equal.
- Aren't we?

- No, we are equal.
- Are we?

- Yes.
- Like Newton's third law,

equal in magnitude,

- opposite in direction.
- You'll get your turn.

But why waste a lifetime
railing against centuries of status quo?

Quo vadis? Women in trousers,
driving motorcars,

is that what you want?

Oh, goodness, no! Of course not!

Mrs Eva Moore, look at you,

permanently pregnant with 14 children!

Only one of whom will be able to vote.

Which one?

John.

Oh!

You haven't got time to worry about
what's going on in Parliament!

Much less the head for it!

It's like curdled baby's milk in there!

And you, Miss Gwen Rapier,
you may look like a suffragette -

mannish, flat-fronted,
bottom-heavy spinster -

but inside you have the heart
and brain of a sweet, silly dormouse.

Stick to sewing!
It's what you do best.

Mrs Margaret Unwin,

I know it's hard to accept

that you've read all those books
for nothing, but you have.

We're not voting yet, Gwen.

No, I'm not voting, I have a question.

Will I still be
interim head of refreshments?

- Yes.
- I'll make you

permanent head of refreshments, Gwen.

Wait your turn, Margaret.

Emily, you're my daughter
so you must do as I say.

Mother, you'll be dead soon
so who cares.

- Thank you
- In short,

women should not have the vote.

We are simple, weak, emotional creatures.

That is all. Over to you, Margaret.

Um, yes. If I were to...
Thank you, Helen.

- Thank you. If I were to...
- Not at all.

Does...
Does an apple know what it will become?

Or does it just grow?

Does it know if it will become
a pippin or a russet?

Does it care if it...

Um, can you judge an apple
by its type or...

- We're not voting yet, Gwen.
- No, a question for Margaret.

- Yes, Gwen.
- Will we have to take up smoking?

Er, no.

Oh, good. Mother has terrible croup.

Is that it, Mrs Unwin? Can we vote now?

Sorry! Sorry!

Master Thomas,
could I ask you to assist me?

Oh, of course!

Yes. Thank you. Yes.

Um, Helen, would you say that Thomas

was exactly the sort of person
who should have a vote?

Absolutely.

Thomas, do you know what electricity is?

No.

Would you describe yourself
as a strong or weak individual?

Weak. I have a congenital wrist
condition, hereditary ganglions,

which prevents me
from doing sport of any kind.

Excellent, Thomas. Are you emotional?

Very. Father often says that I... I...
Well, I cry like a girl.

Yes, he does! I can vouch for that!

And do any of these things

prevent you from taking part
in our country's elections?

No.

Thank you, Master Thomas,
you may sit down.

Oh, and I cannot smoke a pipe. Ah, yes.

And I... I have never driven a motorcar
and frankly I think I never will.

Thank you, Thomas.

Who wishes to vote for
Margaret's suffrage?

- Oh, goodness!
- No, no, no, no, no.

I don't think you understand.

Mother asked who wished to vote
forMargaret's suffrage,

not against it.

It doesn't matter.
I will pose a different question,

you simply raise your hands
at the same time.

Who wishes to vote
againstMargaret's suffrage?

No-one.

Landslide victory for Margaret.

Total annihilation for Helen.

Up the women!

No, no, they don't understand.

They do understand.
You have lost, Helen, sit down.

- No.
- Sit down.

So we're the Banbury

Intricate Craft Circle Politely Requests
Women's Suffrage, are we?

Yes, yes.

Perhaps you might add the letters
onto your lovely banner.

- Oh, yes, over the top of the penis.
- Yes.

Perhaps we should all have
a slice of cake to celebrate?

No, can't. Baby's eaten it all.

Ladies, shall we give this bulb a run?

- Who'll do the honours? Margaret?
- No, no, no,

let Helen do it.

Don't want to, thank you.

- I'm lowering up and at it!
- OK. Right...

Five, four, three, two, one!

Electricity! Ooh!

Um, sorry, sorry, I think
I may have turned the knob too far.

Ripped By mstoll