Original subtitles

Almost the last alive, none was a suffragette.

Over 95, she's high and goes for women.

It's just a beginning.

You haven't seen anything yet.

Oh, none was a suffragette.

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...

This is unwind.

Have you seen a big metal spear that fits onto the barrel of a rifle?

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

Perhaps ask Mrs. Cracken from the Bums Institute.

Maybe they used it for distoning.

How exciting to have the Bambry intricate cross circle

illuminated by science.

Well, I haven't managed to get the thing on yet.

It might go puff and set the place alight.

Oh, yes.

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

but I know it's assumed that wouldn't have happened

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?

Yes, would you? Would you, Mr. Miller?

Well, when the...

The...

filament?

Yes, the filament gets heated up by the...

The...

Electricity.

Yes, yes. The electricity gets hot and lights up, but it...

It...

It doesn't burn because there's no oxygen.

Yes, there is.

You understand it now?

Yes.

Yes. Much clearer. Thank you, Mr. Miller.

Oh, Margaret, what excitement!

Our very own lightning vaults!

Yes, Mr. Miller's cautiously optimistic.

I'm optimistically cautious.

And I'm optimistically optimistic?

Yes, Mr. Miller's

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.

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 Haber-Dashe's knuckle.

See, look, I can't do this.

You have an alluring glow about you tonight.

Are you wearing a different color?

I know what it is.

You've taken the lover.

In a way, yes.

Oh, son of a listen-more multi-erotic.

No, no, no, this is not a fair of the flesh, Mrs. Von Heckling. I'm a married woman.

Well, it's never stopped me.

Oh, I've fallen in love.

Yes?

With a women's suffrage movement.

Oh.

Look, they've made me a rosette badge.

Oh, really?

Today, I intend to propose to everyone in Helen, but mainly Helen, that the Bambory intricate craft circle,

they come, the Bambory intricate craft circle, frankly demands women's suffrage.

So, no lover at all?

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.

Um, two of it from Margaret, we're on first-name terms.

You're of Roman descent, wrote epic poems in Latin until spent.

I wish to have known you to worship and own you, but alas, I am a word, and you're dead.

Is that it?

It's a spent bit, it's quite suggestive.

Don't you think?

No.

I'm here, I'm here.

Oh, good.

Helen.

Emily.

Ignore Emily.

She's sulking because I 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, you're charming made, beg 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 Miller?

Really?

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

Simply put, Helen.

It's just electrons travelling along the metal wire carried by energy.

You don't need electricity.

Where's it all heading?

Electric hats, electric shoes, electric chairs.

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

Mrs. Umwin, putting in a light bulb is a difficult and dangerous business that requires stamina

and concentration.

So if you wouldn't mind...

Yes, and I'm sorry.

No, no, no, no, I'm sorry.

There's definitely something wrong with this, Paul.

I'll have to go and get help.

Poor dear Mr Miller.

Thrust into this modern age with no clue what he's doing.

Ladies, I'll be back in a mow.

Helen, erm, 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 park in...

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.

If you're a little scooch me, I'll just go and prepare the tip in.

May I tell you about my...

In due course, Margaret, in due course, this is not a shepherd's jamboree.

Yes, sorry.

Sorry, I'm late.

Liberty and Chester, you've 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.

Chester, she's got a tickly calf.

Liberty, she's got itchy gums.

And the others?

Patience, providence, and prudence.

They were so dreadfully darling tonight as supper.

They performed Little Nell's death scene.

They covered their faces and flower.

And then they had strawberry jam dribbling out the corner.

They're a mouse to feed the blood.

And the others?

Just steener, earnest, steener, constant supplements.

They were selling us the little tickets.

And the others?

Actually, virginity, abstinence, and moderation.

They were playing funerals.

It's utterly their favourite game.

They made themselves Little Black Horn Band, so sweet!

And the others?

John Miss Plain Crickett.

On his own.

Well, he's a fighter.

I don't know how you manage Eva with only a cook.

Two nannies, a housekeeper and an undermaid.

You know, we muddle through.

Oh, Chippin', Chippin'.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Oh, Gwen, let me help.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Sorry, cakes, cakes, cakes.

Stay down, Gwen.

Stay down.

Stay down, cakes.

No, lovely, thank you.

Oh, thank you, thank you.

That's not not now.

Yes, Gwen, yes, sir.

I'm so sorry.

I would like to bring this meeting of the Banbury Intricut Craft

Circle to order.

There's nothing to call toward, Helen.

We're all just sitting here pretending to so.

Some of us are sewing, mother.

Just me, then.

May I put forward my mum's?

Not yet.

If I might recap on last week's circle,

a rather poor turnout.

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

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

Better than wife of nothing, Gwen D'Alinda.

Has undertaken the task of sewing our very own

Banbury Intricut Craft Circle banner.

How does it look, Gwen?

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

brighten it with an applique work border of my own design.

What is that pattern, Gwen?

Penis.

I think I'll pardon.

Penis.

Oh, peonies.

Yes.

Yes, penis.

I never see one that big.

Oh, I have.

Do not like it.

No, I think this blended.

It's blended, Gwen.

If only one could capture the smell.

I'd like to see it.

I'd like to see it.

I'd like to see it.

No, I think this blended.

It's blended, Gwen.

If only one could capture the smell.

How is your madam birth, Ray Malgret?

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 emotion, then you may speak.

How is your battle of Waterloo coming along, Helen?

Yes, well, 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. Miller, where have you been secreting this delightful neophyte?

You remember Thomas, Reverend Grisham's little boy?

So grown.

Miss Anwin, Miss Rapier, Mrs. Butte, Miss Emily.

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

He's a medical student.

Let me see the instructions, Mr. Miller.

Push, then twist the balm to insert the metal bayonet into its corresponding niches.

And...

It's in.

You see it?

Yes.

Ladies, it's in.

Oh, well, that's one job we'll never have to do again.

He's very exciting.

So how do you light it through the glass?

One applies a counter-clockwise action to this rotarian knob.

And you're going to turn it now?

Yes.

Oh, goodness.

Sit down, Emily.

Shall I dim the gas lights for extra effect?

Why not?

Yeah.

They'll shade your eyes, ladies.

This bulb is the full 40 watts.

Better safe than sorry.

Ridiculous.

Should we count down?

Oh, yes.

Let's...

100.

99.

7.

6.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

Electricity!

I think perhaps the bulb is faulty.

Well, I have another one.

Ladies, we should be back and on.

Very dim.

How would one need?

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.

Well, now be a good time, Helen.

I really would like to...

Does anyone have a motion they wish to put forth?

Yes.

Is it safe to look now?

No, it's true.

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.

And...

When I was in love...

On my yearly outing, visiting my mother-in-law,

she taught me to the Royal Geological Society's annual lecture on sediment.

Is this a motion or a digression?

I may simply pre-see this part as Margaret Torque's 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.

You showed them your badge?

Yes.

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

No.

Margaret's Margaret.

I tell my Charlie everything.

Where there now men there at all?

Well, none that I could see.

Sounds as much fun as a burst of oil.

What was the rally for Margaret?

Women's suffrage.

I don't know what that means.

Folks for women.

And your husband approves of this?

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

See, keep the net from him.

Well, no, no, I don't like to tell him because he's been very melancholic since Nietzsche's death.

This is no tip in the edge.

Who was Nietzsche's?

Look like shock-headed Peter, but much crosser.

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 managed, flat-fronted, bottom-heavy spinsters, aren't they? Sorry, Gwen.

Oh.

I've read that they've, uh, malformed heads and webtoons.

They've moved.

No, they don't.

She speaks.

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

What has this to do with the Bambory intricate craft circle?

It's my notion that the Bambory intricate craft circle becomes the Bambory intricate craft circle,

frankly demands women's suffrage.

Yes.

No.

Vote 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've caused, united in strength and purpose.

Pappas.

Singing.

Charge sharped.

Up the women.

Crying on.

On, on, on, on.

Oh, oh, oh.

Oh, oh, oh.

I do, just this, this, that.

That is, that's something freedom.

Margaret.

Do you wish to turn the Bambory intricate craft circle?

into a rabid hotbed of licentious free thinkers

bent on a path of wanton self-gratification.

Yes, we do.

Sit down, Emily.

No. You see? It's happening already.

Oh, I brought you all roses.

Do you want one, Gwen?

Oh, it matches my couch.

Do you want one, Eva?

Emily? May I take one, Mother?

Absolutely not.

Do you want one, Helen? No, thank you.

Just Gwen.

You want one, Mother?

Gwen?

Yes, Helen?

I need to speak to you urgently in the kitchen.

Oh, I can't wait.

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 at the 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 Budget Craft Cycle frankly demands women's suffrage.

Yes.

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

Thank you, grandma.

fondly.

I was going to say fondly.

Fundly desires?

Get racist, isn't it?

No.

But I politely request.

Oh, that's perfect.

Yes.

And then Gwen can add the letters onto her banner.

Where is Gwen?

Oh, look at your rosette.

We are at a spell.

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'm the founder member, chairman and secretary, Gwen, is interim head of refreshments and rosette.

You will, of course, all be issued with your very own 11-inch rosette once you've joined.

No, you are upset because Margaret's got a bit of attention.

But for goodness sake, do you see childish?

Is a childish to know that this ignorant, innocent, irrational, emotional creature

is simply not capable of shouldering the burden of a nation?

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.

Ginger Parkin, Victoria Sponge with Cream and Jam, and 11-to-12-inch rosettes are in the kitchen.

Ginger Parkin's baby's favourite.

Emily?

Gwen?

I'm so sorry Margaret.

It's more than this one.

What would Mr. Moore say, Eva?

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

Think about those poor little orphaned rabbits, with no one but a cook to manage a housekeeper

and an under-made between them and the workhouse.

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

Mother, are you coming?

I'm going to go.

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.

I know that Jesus would much prefer it if I didn't vote because it doesn't want to put me under too much strain.

And I am in a centenignarous and irrational.

What was the other one?

Emotional.

Emotional? Yes.

And I'm really so very honoured to be asked to be head of refreshments from the Vamry anti-suffrage league.

Interim head of refreshments.

Yes, of course.

Do you think I could just please, please take Mrs. Bonder, heckling and Margaret

a slice of Victoria's 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.

Right, heo. What are you doing on the board there, Mrs. Unwin?

I'm attempting to heal that fracture, Mr. Miller, with a Persian algorithm.

Good luck.

Would you like me to explain it to you?

If you could, Mrs. Unwin.

Yes. Right, 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 to the horologist league.

We spit 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? You sure?

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

Be my guest, Mrs. Miller.

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 think that's correct.

You can't please everyone.

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

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. Miller? I had no idea that was such a thing.

There isn't.

Oh, right.

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, ways 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 mine, 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 reducto, Adam said, I'm true, 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, er, everyone's opinions, then we have a debate, and then we vote.

I thought you didn't want to 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, Equally, Maggitude, Opposite and Direction.

You'll get your turn.

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

Quo vartis. Women in trousers driving motorcars? Is that what you want?

Oh, goodness, no more.

Mrs. Eivomor.

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.

Manish, flat-fronted, bottom-heavy, spinster.

But inside you have the hard and brain of a sweet, silly dorm house.

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

Mrs. Margaret Anwin.

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 out of a question.

Will I still be interim head of refreshments?

Yes.

I'll make you permanent head of refreshments, Gwen.

Which of 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.

Yes.

If I were to thank you, Helen.

Thank you.

If I were to...

Not at all.

Doesn't Apple know what it will become?

What does it just grow?

Does it know it?

It's not.

It's not.

It's not.

What does it just grow?

Does it...

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

Is it care, is it...

Oh.

Is that it, Mrs. Ann, Gwen?

Can we vote now?

Sorry.

Mr. Thomas, can I ask you to assist me?

Of course.

Yes, thank you.

Yes.

And 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?

A weak. I have a congenital wrist condition for predatory ganglions, which prevents me from doing sports of any kind.

Excellent, Thomas. Are you emotional?

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

Yes, she 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.

And I have never driven a motor car, and frankly, I think I never will.

Thank you, Thomas.

Who wishes to vote for Margaret Suffridge?

Oh, goodness.

No, no, no, no. I don't think you understand.

Mother asked, who wished to vote for Margaret Suffridge? 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 against Margaret Suffridge?

No. No one.

One slide victory for Margaret, total annihilation for Helen.

Oh, look at them in.

They don't understand.

They do understand. You have lost Helen. Sit down.

No. Sit down.

So, we're the Vambray intricate craft circle, politely requests women's suffrage.

Yes, yes.

Perhaps you might add the letters onto your lovely banner.

Oh, yes.

Over the top of the penis.

You should all have a slice of cake to celebrate.

No.

Can't baby see it in it all.

Ladies, shall we give this bowl the run? We'll do the honours, Margaret.

No, no, no, no. Helen, do it.

Don't want to, thank you.

I'm lowering up on it.

Okay. Right. Five, four, three, two, one.

Electricity!

Oh!

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

Now there was a suffragette.

This is it. She's still alive.

Now there was a suffragette.

Their voices still survive.

Singing, vlogs, mooring in.

These jazz-sabbing in.

You haven't seen anything yet.

Oh, none of us are suffragette.