Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells http://UKsubtitles.ru
Fish on a string! Fish on a string!
Delight the children, hypnotise the cat.
Fish on a string! Fish on a string!
Delight the kiddies, confuse the kitties.
It is our newest product. The Piano Sofa.
So exhilarating to play!
And so comfortable when you stop!
Can I interest you in our safari buffet?
There's giraffe giblets, snake-etti, tinned tiger or zebra cordial.
And we stock all the bacons from mouse to elephant.
And I'm sure your nephew would enjoy reading this, sir.
And then you turn this handle
and by the queenie position system or QPS,
it locates out glorious monarch wherever she is in the world.
So patriotic and so portable.
I'll take it and I'll pay twice the asking price.
Then I shall throw in this mechanical French hater!
I do wish we didn't stock that. So crude.
But it sells so well.
Britain's France haty-ness is our financial gain.
Oh, dearest, I'm sorry that you, Victor and Victoria,
have to sully your hands with work!
But we enjoy it. Don't we children?
Very indeed, Papa.
But I have ambitions, to earn enough money
to spare my family from toil,
so we may lead a life of luxury and loveliness.
We are happy as we are. Count your blessings.
I do, my dear, every day. Currently, I have seven.
It's just sometimes I think I would like eight or 19.
Dear silly, lovely, ambitious Jedrington.
Letter for Mrs Conceptiva Secret-Past!
Can I help you?
I'll take these, please.
Were you eavesdropping?
I may have heard something.
I think you should leave.
What if I told you I'm a rich businessman
looking for younger partners who'll become rich themselves?
I think you should stay.
Everything all right, dear?
Yes, of course.
I have been seeking a young partner for some time.
I did consider having multiple candidates,
forcing them to do a series of demeaning weekly tasks
masquerading as business challenges
and then firing them one by one.
But that just seemed ludicrous.
More like music hall larks than business sense.
Yes, you see, we think alike already.
In fact, you remind me of myself when I was your age.
Really? Yes.
For when I was your age, I was the same age as you are now.
And I too had a hungry ambition, that longed to taste of success pie
and money gravy.
They sound delicious.
They are.
And you shall dine on them daily as soon as you sign this contract.
Well... If you're worried about what you get from the deal,
this chart explains everything.
I'm sure I don't have to tell a man, such as yourself,
what all this means.
No... of course not.
Maybe a bit.
Obviously, there will be maximal profitisation
of throughput outcomes
in the positively extruded asset yield actualisation.
Obviously...
Your mutualised share-tranche, is the equivalent
of an actimised accrual on a stipendiary roo ha ha,
with collateral umbification of 94%.
In short, you'll get...
Let us have a drink while you consider.
Maybe a shorry or a brindy?
I have never heard of shorry or brindy. They are special drinks...
for the rich.
Part of a world...
that you will soon enjoy.
Then I shall have a brindy. Little taste of your future.
Ooh, strong.
Like the rich. Like you if you sign.
It really is strung! Ooh! I'm already dronk!
The only way to be for any massive life decision. Now, come on, sign.
Oh! Why not! For though this seems...
suspiciously easy,
what possible harm could come of it? None whatsoever!
Terms and conditions apply,
levels of harm will go up rather than down,
contract may contain traces of evil. Hmm?
Nothing, I was just... clearing my throat.
Now... sign.
Sign.
Signy-sign, signy-sign, sign, sign.
Oh, what the heck!
Get in!
You will quite possibly not regret it at first, Jedrington.
I'm sure I shall not.
Ooh, I really am quite dronk.
And turn.
Ha! The shares in our company have risen so fast they have had to append a new bit of paper.
Whoosh.
Drink, sir? Ah, whosky, delicious.
I love having servants. They do so much for you.
Drink, madam? I can make my own drink, thank you.
I still do not see how we have become so rich so quickly.
It all involves words such as "leveraging", "collateralisation" and "platyhelminth".
Is a platyhelminth not a type of flat, unsegmented worm?
That just goes to show how little you understand of business, dearest.
But listen...
More money being delivered. Do not question it.
I question it not, Papa, for instead of working,
I enjoy such luxuries as bathing in jam!
I have just had my fifth bath of the day.
And you forgot to dry yourself properly, dearest.
And I question it not,
for it means I can be educated at boarding school!
You know what they say about it - "Give me the boy at seven..."
"And I'll give you the empty husk of an emotionally stunted man." Exactly!
A man fit to rule an empire!
And here is the man who made this possible, my excellent partner, Mr Grimstone!
Victor,
you lucky boy.
St Nasty's is the best school in Britain.
It sounds so horrid.
No...
It is a happy place...
full of jolly rough-housing and mannish horseplay and horse-ish man-play.
I sent my own son there.
I cannot wait! There will be japes and larks and silly moorhens galore!
My manservant Pusweasel will escort you there.
He awaits you... outside.
Is this a lark, Mr Pusweasel? It is for me, young cully.
Such a funny jape! Eurgh!
He just hit Victor with a cudgel.
See! The jolly rough-housing begins!
How I wish I might go to school.
Alas, I am a girl so it is illegal.
But, my littlie, not illegal to have a governess.
A governess? A seemingly stern but secretly warm-hearted governess?
Oh joy! Why does she need a governess?
To learn to be a lady...
rather than a slattern or flibbertigibbet.
And Miss Primly Tightclench is a fine governess.
My governessing covers many things.
Posture, decorum, how to stand properly,
deportment, posture, comportment, carriage, bearing, posture,
musculo-skeletal straightening, posture, good-stancing and posture.
It's mostly posture, to be honest.
Mama, she seems such fun! Does she?
Oh, I'm a laugh a minute, me.
Well...
decade. Victoria, follow me!
Posture!
Now, to business.
I thought we could expand
with new branches called The Old Shop Of Stuff Metro
and The Old Shop Of Stuff Express.
W-w-wha-what?
I'm- Are you talking?
Alas, men cannot hear women when they talk about business
due to their high-pitched, weak-brained voices.
It is a true fact of Victorian science.
But I have written a business plan.
I cannot see it.
Dearest, you must do as the wives of other businessmen do.
Charitable works and... pretty simpering.
I shall go and do some charity, then. Yup.
Do you know, she actually thought a platyhelminth was a type of worm.
Please, ma'am, someone delivered this for you.
Oh...
Ooh!
Ooh... Ooh!
Will you PLEASE stop doing things for me!
Always a pleasure to welcome a new boy.
Is this school? Am I at school? Oh, joy!
No joy here, young cully.
Damn you, Smalcolm!
Oh! Oh! Sorry, sir.
Is this my dormitory?
Full of new chums to share in pillow-fights, midnight feasts
and fumbled adolescent acts I shall never mention to my future wife?
Hold on...
Where ARE my new chums?
The only chums you'll have will be misery, pain and hunger!
What odd names! Are they from the North?
Time for sleep.
Tomorrow, japes aplenty!
School is br-r-rilliant...
I think.
Ah, I do enjoy a bracing walk. How are you defining "walk"?
Come, let us eat! Walk on.
Argh! Get off! I can WALK, you know!
Now...
what shall we eat? How about beef?
I hate beef. Very good. Beef it is. Servegood?
Two beef coming up, sir.
So we now use lunch artillery.
Such luxury when so many are so poor.
It is what the rich do. There must be a better use for such devices.
Does something bother you?
It's just... this SUDDEN wealth.
It's good, isn't it? I now wear silk trousers and diamond underpants.
Which are INCREDIBLY uncomfortable.
I miss the children, and you.
But we are rich now, so the children must be kept from us
and we must have bedrooms a safe distance from each other.
They are a carriage-ride apart.
I wish to visit my wife.
Very well, sir.
We have so many servants.
We barely do anything for ourselves.
Nonsense.
Drink!
Mmm, "cloret."
I am so wealthy now the rumour is I shall soon be given a knighthood
for my services to money.
Only if the business continues successfully.
Do you not worry that it is excessively leveraged?
The debt-to-capital ratio is far from optimum.
No, I've checked that. And it's totally optimum.
Now, enough of matters which you clearly don't understand.
R-r-r! Are you sure there's nothing wrong, my love?
There is something... Your beef.
Your beef, sir.
Mmm! Delicious! Ooh!
Oh... shrapnel.
If one's spine is not straight,
one's morals cannot be either. Does it not say in the Bible,
"Bendy neck and bendy back makes one weak and morally slack"
Where in the Bible does it say that?
Paul's letter to the Chiropractor.
Sorry to interrupt...! Posture! Oh! Erm...
I am about to launch my new charity
and I want Victoria to come and watch. Oh, yes, please!
No. She is still too posture-weak. Thanks to your slack mothering,
it is as if her spine has been removed and replaced with jelly.
Or socks. Take her from my tender care now
and you condemn her to be an opium fiend and/or lady of the night.
But, I don't... Get out! Aagh! Posture! Oh! Aagh! Out! Out!
Oh, Mama! Posture!
A-agh! Posture...
It is good to welcome other richly charitable ladies. Lady Havemuch.
The Duchess of Money. One only has to look at the newspapers to see
how awful it is for the poor poor.
Jumped up riff-raff. How dare she tell us to do more for the poor?
I already do loads. I recently took in an orphan.
You saintly she-beast.
It was my nephew, Freddy, Earl of Bessex.
But now we can relieve at least some of their woes,
and these weapons of mass opulence may be used for good.
Blimey! Some toff's firing food at us!
So let this be our first salvo in our war against poverty!
Riff-raff. Pious prole!
Oh! It is from Victor.
"Dearest mama and papa, school is such fun.
"Lessons are plentiful and varied. I am learning Scripture..."
Ohhh! "Latin..."
Ha-ha-ha! Oohh!
"Geography..."
"Mathematics..."
"and Chemistry."
Oh, no! A-a-agh!
"It is brilliant, and I am definitely very happy, not sad."
Well, that at least has cheered me.
As per my business plan we have now opened 12 new branches
of the Old Shop of Stuff Metro and the Old Shop of Stuff Express.
We really are being businessmen, aren't we? Clever, clever us.
What the devil?
Sir, unless I am mistaken, that is the sound of a lady running amok.
Mary-Anne!
Conceptiva. What ever is the matter?
We must hire a lawyer, stop these libellous letters.
To be a libel, it must be untrue.
Of course it's untrue. My wife has no secrets.
But...
Conceptiva? Do you have a secret?
Conceptiva, answer me! I think she just has.
But with a subtle feminine language beyond our logical male brains.
Sir, if I may be of assistance?
Would sir say that madam is looking wistful?
Partly wistful, partly contemplative.
Wistlative, then.
Plus sighing and staring out of the window...
Ah, alas, it translates as, "Yes, I do have a secret,
"but cannot bear to share it."
No!
If secret there is one...
then libel there is none.
If you have a secret, you must share it with me!
I see that you have finally found a use for her.
She is now my mood-maid.
This could not have come at a worse time for me.
Any hint of scandal could cost me my knighthood.
That is all you care about? What have you become?
I merely meant...
I think it better your husband hear the truth from you
than from a newspaper.
I've come to tell you my secret.
Sir, could...?
There is a stain on my character that can never be erased.
Oh, blinking cripes!
As you know, when he was a subaltern, my father fought
at the second Battle of Waterloo.
After the battle, he scoured the field for wounded.
Alas, there were few he could aid.
But enough dead to sadden the soul.
Back then, whole families followed men on campaign,
and on that gory field he found a soldier and wife, embraced in death.
In their embrace was a child, still alive.
My father's heart melted at the sight of this orphan child,
and he sought to raise me himself.
And this is your secret? That you are adopted?
But, there is no shame in that.
You do not understand.
That dead soldier was not a British soldier. He was...
French.
I am French.
Je suis Francaise.
A-a-a-a-a-a-agh!
Get out! Get out!
Yes?
I need to see my daughter. You cannot. She is on the posture-rack
and then is to be starched to rigidity. But... No!
Then can you tell her I said...
goodbye.
Conceptiva, wait! I...!
She left this, old friend.
"Dearest Jedrington, I go now to end my life.
"Tell the children I love them. PS, je suis desole."
We must stop her! She may be French, but she is still my wife!
Hop on, sir.
Excuse me, is this where people come to...?
I'll take that as a yes.
Goodbye, cruel world!
A-a-a-a-a-agh!
Conceptiva! If you can hear me, listen!
I have been selfish and stupid! I do not care about your Frenchness!
In fact, je t'aime! Oh, well said, sir.
Conceptiva! Oh, Jedrington...
Conceptiva! I'm so glad you didn't jump! Mr Grimstone...
Because now I can push you instead.
Aa-a-a-gh! Ohh! Can't let you blab away like that!
Now, we must do this properly.
Jedrington! We have found her!
Oh, thank the Lord. I am coming, my love! I am coming!
Goodbye, Conceptiva. I am coming! Oh!
Ya-agh! I am here! A-a-a-a-agh! No!
Conceptiva! Conceptiva!
She'll not have survived, sir. Huge drop that is.
And the current here's mighty strong.
Plus, unlikely though it seems, there are sharks.
Leave it, sir. Violence never solved anything.
Apart from the Battle of Waterloo. And Agincourt. And...
What have I done?
So, the first part of my complex, evil plan has succeeded.
And he suspects nothing.
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