All language subtitles for B.E.S02E03.The Funeral [eng]

'Isobel? Hi, it's Chris Tarrant here
from Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?'

We've got your friend Malcolm here...
'An elementary mistake, rookie, '

I have no friends.

But I do have a very particular
set of skills,

a set of skills that make me
a nightmare for people like you.

Hullo, Isobel! It's Malcolm here.

My million-pound question is...

Is Miss Pickwell, A,
the demon headmaster in drag?

B, Rose McWest?

C, Andy Murray's mother?

Or D, an angry Scottish chicken?

Chicken, chicken, chicken!

Now, Miss Pickwell has gone missing.

She's done a Klaxons
and vanished without a trace.

I don't want to point the finger,

but it seems chicken-gate
may have something to do with it.

Mitchell made me do it.
You egg him on.

That boy brings pranking to
a new level, right.

The other day, he locked Joe
in a cupboard, then recorded him

screaming for help and set it
as the ringtone on Joe's own phone!

Can't change it. Classic Mitchell.

Back to Isobel.
The 5-0 have found her car

on the Severn Bridge, Bristol.

They're afraid something might
have happened to her.

Well, I wouldn't worry -
they've stopped burning witches,

even in the West Country.

It's a note from Pickwell.

"If you're reading this note,
I am dead."

Oh, my God!

"I am dead.

"I've jumped from the Severn Bridge.

"But don't blame yourselves.

"There is only one person with
blood on their hands - Al...

"Al-Ian...

"Shearer.

"He is my least favourite pundit
on Match of the Day

"whose name is Al-Ian.

"I way prefer Al-Ian Hansen. The end."

Oh, wow.

She clearly went completely insane.

I know.
Shearer's amazeballs on MO-TU-DUH.

Ironic, too, jumping into a river.

Shearer hates players that dive.

It's too soon.

Thanks very much, guys.

Bloody pigs.

It's a clingy smell, isn't it - bacon?

These suicides don't get any easier.

That's the fifth teacher that's...

Since I've been here. Still gets you.

It's just such a shock.

Well, thank God,
it's not like poor old Mr Rawlinson.

I mean, an orange in the mouth
is weird, but a papaya?!

Where do you even buy a papaya?

Poor little Jeremy Goss found him.

It has been a battle trying to
get him to eat his five a day.

Fraser, erm, Isobel's position...

Obviously, we could never replace her -
she was deputy head of hearts...

But this school needs a Camilla
and that is the ugly truth.

So, whilst I find someone full-time,
I'm going to need an interim deputy.

Someone with people skills,
respect from the student body,

a feminine touch...

Miss G, you're hired.
Oh, wow. Me? Me?

Bullshit.

Re-interviewing for the permanent
deputy head role, I'm going

to need another set of eyes.

Rosie,
you'll be busy inter-rimming. Alf?

Yeah. Fine.

I guess it is quite important
that we find

a permanent replacement pretty pronto,
before the power corrupts you.

Now, what to tell
the kids about this mess?

We should tell them the truth.
But suicide can be very distressing.

Let's tell the children a little
white lie, so as not to upset them.

And then the bear just ripped her
face off, with one swipe!

Blood bath. Face everywhere.

The paramedic found her eyebrow
up a tree!

In other news, tomorrow is Morocco Day.

This FEZ-TIVAL has to be TAGINE
to be believed! Thank you.

'There is only one man with blood
on his hands. Alfie Wickers.'

Help! Help! Let me out.
I'm afraid of the dark.

Seriously, please,
don't leave me in here.

Can you please tell me
how to change this ringtone?

Haven't you finished that yet, babes?
I can't.

I'm just too upset about Pickwell.

Oi, Pineapple Studios, want to know
what happens at the end?

If you dare...
The boy and the girl both...

What happened?

Nothing. You look well scared, Sir.

Did you see
your in-growing penis again, Sir?

History.
History's all about dead people

so, hypothetically,
do you think that ghosts exist?

They don't, right?

I believe that when we die,
we go to Liverpool.

Yeah, only if you've done
some messed-up shit.

Trust us. All the dead people

talking through Derek Acorah
always have Scouse accents.

I thought I seen a ghost once,

when I was having a sleepover
at Mitchell's house.

Turned out, it was just his mum in
her nightie trying to haunt my cock.

Just cos your mum looks like someone
drew eyes on a scrotum.

I hear your gyppo mum does palm
readings with a happy ending.

Do one.
Enough! Someone's died.

Can we just give a little respect?

Thank you, Jing.

Although, I did also hear
that about Mitchell's mum.

Do you think Miss Pickwell's
going to come back as a ghost?

Wh... What? No.
Why would you say that?

Joe, you don't
believe in this ghost nonsense?

Well, I thought I did, cos this one
night, my room went really cold.

And?

Turns out,
I just left my fridge door open.

You have a fridge in your room?

Only for essentials like water, cheeses,

pulled pork.

OK, so say someone did see a ghost,
hypothetically...

what does it want from me?

To put its unquiet spirit at rest.

What, like in that film where Jing
walks out the telly.

Oh, you can watch scary movies now?

The boy who cried in Toy Story 3.

Didn't cry! I had something in me eye.

Why do I give a shit
if Andy's going to college?

Why did he have to leave
Woody behind?

Rem Dogg's right. If you want to
make your peace with Pickwell, Sir,

you should put on the most
sha-mazing memorial ever.

We can make it just like Whitney's!
Hashtag - "Queen of the Night".

You think that would work?

If making my peace with Pickwell's
unquiet spirit is what

I wanted to do, hypothetically.

Defo. OK, right, well, obviously,
I'm not being haunted by Pickwell,

but let's put on a memorial anyway.

Why do you even care, Sir?
Pickwell was a right bitch!

Shhh.

She might be listening.

Black velvet drapes, people. We need it
looking like Phantom by break.

Oh, and I want doves.

Aren't doves for weddings?

Black doves, babes.

I ain't ever been to a funeral before,
but in the WWE Survivor Series,

right, The Undertaker comes out of
a coffin, choke-slams Randy Orton,

and then finishes him off
with a tombstone piledriver.

Why don't we just do that?

I mean,
the reasons are literally endless.

Can you just sort out the flowers,
please?

What do I know about flowers?

I swear your sister once sold me
some roses at the traffic lights.

Whatever, Dickers,
she's got a proper job now.

Hmm, holds a bucket while Daddy
washes the windscreens. LOL!

Rem Dogg is asking the art department
about Pickwell's portrait?

Great. Can you tell them to go easy on

the whole menopausal,
child-catcher vibe.

I'll find a picture of her smiling.

Good luck, that's like finding
a picture of Sir

watching One Direction without a boner.

Yeah, or a picture of you
with your real dad.

Guys, chillax! Music-wise,
memorials scream Candle In The Wind.

Ah, perfect.
Download an Elton John best of.

We're going to needs loads of emotional
music. Ah, like that one from Gladiator.

You know, the one that he
has in the dream.

♪ La-la-la-la

♪ Na-na-na-naa. ♪

Please stop. What is it called?

I don't know,
why don't you just Shazam my singing?

♪ Na-na-na-naa. ♪

Oh, my God. Stop!

I'll Google it!

Alfie Wickers!

Oh, thank God, it's you.

Hmm.
What's with the hair?

Oh, it's a very practical style.

You do realise you look
a bit like Pickwell?

No, I don't.
Right.

Now, I need you to come in
at seven tomorrow for early detention.

Look, I went over this
with Pickwell, like, a billion times.

I'm a teacher,
I can't be put in detention.

No, I need you to supervise it.

Well, that's even more stupid.

At seven o'clock in the morning,
babe, I'll be down the gym,

pumping iron like a lion
in Tring Bannatayne...

And I'm hoping you'll conduct
this in a good spirit.

I know you didn't get on,
but she deserves a dignified memorial.

Oh, I wouldn't worry about that.

Here's the music you wanted, Sir.

It's the wrong Gladiator!

Stephen! Stephen!

To clarify, we...
we won't be playing that.

Remember, I'm planning this memorial,
so this can't take long.

Sure. Hey, before each interview,
should I do a short monologue,

a few topical jokes?

Fraser, these are job interviews,
not Chatty Man.

Fine. Where did you find
all these people so quickly?

Advert on Gumtree.

Gumtree?!

For many moons now,
I have been the humble scribe of

medieval pornography.

He also plays the lute!

Sorry, you know this man?

Met him at Canterbury Market,
selling porn from a barrow.

Hmm! Egad! The Pink Lance!

He calls himself the Porn Baron.

Oh, but tarry, fair quent-beavor.

What quim-foolery
maketh thy lady of the lake wet?

And you want to become a teacher
because...?

To be honest, mate,
it's just not selling.

So, your name is
Mrs P-hi...? Piss...? P-hi, P-hi?

Phistor.

Phistor?

Good.
And your first name is...?

Gay.

Your name is Gay Phistor

and you want to work in a school
full of teenagers?

On your way out, would you mind
sending in Mr Mark Skid?

Can you tell us why you were

dishonourably discharged
from the armed forces?

It was Afghan, night...

I was on guard at the camp gates.

Car charges up. Draws level.

I see a figure in the passenger seat
reach for something.

Split-second decision.
What would you do?

Shine a torch?

Open fire. Bang, bang!

Was it the Taliban?

The Sugababes. They were there
to entertain the troops.

I'm the reason
they changed the line-up.

Mutya, right between the eyes.

If you don't stop running, I'll hobble
you quicker than you can say,

"Very steep, secluded, concrete
stairwell in a CCTV black spot."

Mr Wickers, Mr Fraser,
don't you have classes to go to?

We need to get a new deputy head ASAP.

I liked that man
who looked like Professor Weeto.

Dick Brumhole?

Right, as I said to him,
Gay Phistor and Pat Fanny,

you can't teach in a school
with a name like that.

The kids would destroy them.

In that case, don't go bat-shoot cray,

but I'm going to ask Miss Gulliver
to apply for the job full-time.

Alfie Wickers.

Who put wind chimes in the corridor?

My bad. I thought
they'd lighten the place up a bit.

It's very deathy round here
at the moment. Are you OK?

Yeah, yeah. I'm... I'm fine.

Oh, that's a parental cluster
F-word waiting to happen.

Oh, I just heard from the family,

Isobel's funeral is going ahead
at St Bartholomew's.

So, we should send a representative,
show our respects.

I'll go. Please let me go.
I'm definitely going.

Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Sorry, erm... I'd actually like to
say some words myself.

If... If you must.

Thank you, Your Honour.

We are gathered here today to remember
someone very, very special.

Someone that will be truly missed.

Alfie! Alfie!

Not now, Joe.

Let me say this - Izzy...

Is...

he dead?

Yes, yes, he is dead.

But in many ways he is not dead,

because we will all remember
our dear old friend,

whose name is...

Old Captain Birdseye.

That's a little nickname amongst mates.

Fishy fingers himself.

Let's raise a glass

and toast a life
that was tragically cut short by, erm...

A fight in a pub...

A cross trainer...

Milking a cow?

Drink-driving! Yes! Of course.

That's how he died.

So, let's raise the glass of water
or orange juice,

or milk.

Amen.

May the Force be with you.

Hey, instead of me interviewing you,
why don't you interview me?

To prove that I'm an enthusiastic
leader that can take

control of unforeseen situations?

Something like that.

Why did you want to become a teacher?

Ah! Good question, Parky.

I fell in love with teaching

when I saw that beautiful
Robin Williams film.

Dead Poets Society?

No.
Good Will Hunting?

Flubber.

I decided to go back to school
to acquire the skills needed

to build a green, shape-shifting energy
source that would help me

win at basketball.

Mr Fraser, if you don't give me
this job, I'll be forced to

explain to the governors why
Abbey Grove is awash with these.

Queefs Of The Nunnery.
The Knights Of Cumalot.

"As Arthur did up his chain mail,
Guinevere was dallying with

"a circle of mysterious wizards
from the east - The Bukkake Coven..."

Okey-dokey.
Let's talk about your pension plan.

Hmm.

Stop blaming me, Joe. Fraser said
it was happening at St Bartholomew's.

He didn't say it was happening
next Thursday.

You go, I'll take this.

Wickers!

Get in there now!

On my way.

I haven't got any money,
you've already stolen my watch

and the last time you wedgied me,
I swear you fractured my guiche.

I miss her so much. Why did she do it?

Why?

It's not your fault, Frank.
It's no-one's fault.

Right, now, you go out there and if
anyone asks you what you was doing,

you... you say I was in here
wedgie-ing you.

Will do.

In fact, wedgie yourself now, yeah?
just in case.

I'm not going to do that.

Come on, you know
I give 'em better than that.

Alfie Wickers.

Help! Help! Help!

Oh, my God,
major probs with the memorial, Sir.

Doves don't come in black.
I had to improvise.

We blacked up some pigeons, Sir.

What? This is Pickwell's memorial,
not Jim Davidson's.

Oh, my God, they look like
they've been in an oil spill.

That box is minging.
It smells like my nan's flat.

I think the boot polish made them
a bit poorly. FunkyPigeon.com.

By the way, guys, you look amazing.

I look like Steve Jobs.

This memorial's going to be so great.

Definitely going to get Pickwell
off my back, right?

Sir, you do realise that
it's highly unlikely that you're being

haunted by Miss Pickwell?

I don't know why she'd bother haunting
you, Sir. I bet she's lappin' up hell,

probably down there now
trying to get Stalin to sign her tits.

Oi, big guy. Don't be upset,
we all miss her.

It's not that. I've lost my phone.

My mum's going to kill me!

It's all right. It's probably
somewhere really obvious.

I'll call it for you.

Help! Help!
Let me out. I'm afraid of the dark.

Seriously, please don't leave me
in here! Help! I want my mum!

Miss Pickwell made me try harder
at the things I love.

Because she was always on my back,

I can now smoke a Vogue in 30 seconds.

I remember when she told me
I was in this wheelchair

because I'd sinned in my previous life.

Classic Pickwell.

Miss Pickwell asked me to
negotiate for her during some trouble

she was having with
a syndicate of Chinese bookies.

She'd been unable
to honour her debts after losing

thousands of pounds
in illegal cock fights.

We became fast friends.

I can't.
Grow a pair, Rylan.

It's all just too emotional.

Hashtag - YOLO.

That's all it says.

We will now all observe
a minute's silence for Isobel.

Beautiful, man.

Stephen...

Stephen! This isn't Candle In The Wind.
Turn it off!

It's broken!

What the...?

Calm down! Stop pushing.

Everyone, make your way to the exits!

Everyone sit down! Please!

Hey! Oh, that's lovely.

God, Isobel
sure went through some styles.

Yeah.

Sorry for being tetchy earlier.

Isobel dying, well,
it's affected us all.

I know. It's weird, you know?

I found her so annoying,
but now she's gone,

I realise I kind of loved her too.

It's the Crazy Frog all over again.

No hard feelings?

Oh, I'd better scoot.

Oh, if things get too much for me,
I unlock the art block,

stick on Magic FM
and just do something creative.

You should try it.

And welcome to Magic FM, and
have we got a line-up for you tonight?

Starting with the '60s classic
from The Righteous Brothers.

Unchained Melody. Here we go.

Get away, get away, get away.

Calm down, Mr Wickers.

You're a ghost! Ghosts can't speak.

No, I'm not a ghost.

But you're dead. You died!

Well, can a ghost do this? Ow!
Can a ghost do this? Argh!

Can a ghost do this?

OK, I get the point. You're not a ghost.

But how? Why?

Well, because I didn't
commit suicide, Mr Wickers.

But... do you know how bad
that note has made me feel?

No, but I...
I have enjoyed imagining it.

Tarring and feathering Isobel Pickwell
will always have consequences.

Now, listen to me carefully,
I need your help.

OK, but can I wash my face first?

I feel like I've received a money shot
from Morph.

Your little chicken escapade
gave me the perfect alibi.

Fake my own death,
cash in my life insurance

and get out of this hell hole for good.

Where will you go?

Well, I've got a pen pal in Argentina.

A German gentleman.
I can't reveal his true identity,

but he goes by the code name
of the Beast of Bergandor.

Yep. He's a dentist, 90-odd,
very courtly.

Yeah, I'm... I'm really happy for you.

But, where do I fit into this?

I need a thousand pounds.

A thousand pounds.

That's, like, my life savings
and, anyway,

why would I give you a grand?

Because you're the only person
that wants to keep me dead.

Unless you'd like me to return
to the school?

Cash or transfer?

Done. Money's in your account.

You know, you're going to be missed.
Even Frank Grayson was devastated.

Yeah, most def, most def.

He may have got the idea
from somewhere that, erm,

he might have a little blood
on his hands too.

Right. How many people did you
personally blame for your death?

Hmm. About five.

Yeah, I like to have
a few plates spinning.

Yeah, see which one breaks first.
OK.

Actually, erm, thank you
for that memorial, Mr Wickers.

It was...

Well, it was quite the most beautiful
thing I've ever seen!

In fact, I've only ever really dreamt
of such a scene

whilst sitting knickerless
on my tumble dryer.

Oh, God.

Why do you have to leave me
with that image?

No-one must ever know of our pact,
Mr Wickers.

I trust you, Alfie.

Do not lead the guards to me
in the garden. Yeah.

Phew. Nothing.

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