Downloaded From www.AllSubs.org
My lords, gentlemen,
pray silence for Ralph Douglas Christopher Alexander Gurney,
the 13th earl of Gurney.
Thank you.
The aim of the Society of St. George...
is to keep green the memory of England.
We were once the rulers...
of the greatest empire the world has ever known!
- Hear, hear! - Ruled not by superior force or skill,
but by sheer presence.
Hear, hear!
So I give you England.
This teeming womb of privilege.
This feudal state...
whose shores beat back the turbulent sea of foreign anarchy.
This ancient fortress,
still commanded by the noblest of our royal blood.
Hear, hear!
This ancient land of ritual.
This precious stone...
set in the silver sea.
The toast is "England. This precious stone...
set in the silver sea."
England. Set in the silver sea.
# God save our gracious Queen #
#Scatter Her enemies #
#And make them fall #
# Confound their politics #
#Frustrate their knavish tricks #
# On Thee our hopes we fix #
# God save the Queen ##
Ah, thank you, Tuck.
How was your speech, my lord?
Went well, Tuck.
Englishmen like to hear the truth about themselves.
He's back, Claire.
Claire! I said, Ralph is back.
Thank you, Charles. I'll have a vodka and tonic.
I say, guv'nor, the guv'nor is back.
Mummy, I was just telling the guv'nor that the guv'nor is back.
Charles! With ice.
I'm repeating myself, calling the guv'nor the guv'nor and Daddy the guv'nor as well.
- Tucker, I'm getting married again. - Very good, my lord.
Miss Grace Shelley. Charles is right.
Been putting it off. Sake of the family.
OnlyJack left.
This house... used to be full of mischief.
Four young devils.
Thought I was safe enough.
Master Paul would have been the 14th earl.
District officer at 21.
Dead at 23. Beriberi.
Picked it up off some scruffy fuzzy-wuzzy in dressing gown.
Shouldn't wonder, eh?
Master Richard used to play the xylophone.
And young Raymond, killed in Malaya.
Not one of them buried in England.
Never seen their graves.
You could do that on your honeymoon, my lord.
Hmm, there's stillJack.
It's all based on land, Tuck.
Can't have those knaves from Whitehall moving in.
So it's Miss Grace Shelley.
Is she anyone, my lord?
No one. But Charles recommends her as good breeding stock.
Family foals well. Sires, mostly.
There's always room at the top for brains, money or a good pair of titties.
Miss Shelley seems well endowed, my lord.
Hmm.
Oh, the guv'nor loved this bed.
Took it all over the world with him.
Devilish great man, the guv'nor. Superb shot.
Did wonderful needlework too.
What do you got there, hmm?
Huh.
Oh, yes. Why not?
Hard day. Need to relax.
Might I suggest the silk tonight, sir?
Good idea, Tuck.
For St. George, eh?
Ah, Tuck, there's no end to duty.
The law has been my life, Tuck.
Ajudge can't be unreasonable...
so how can he be a lover, eh?
Ours is a damned dry world, Tuck.
A long life and a gray one, my lord.
The power of life and death.
Ajudge has no need for other vices.
Once you put on a black cap, everything else tastes like wax fruit.
Uh, noose a bit high, Tuck. Bring it down half an inch.
That's it.
Will that be all, my lord?
A whiskey and soda in about five minutes, as usual.
Oh, Tuck, I shan't be dining tonight.
Tell cook the trial ends tomorrow,
so I shall be wanting one of her extra-large breakfasts in the morning.
She knows I don't like passing sentence on an empty stomach.
- Very good, my lord. - Thank you, Tuck.
Nothing like a good English breakfast.
Big meal of the day for the guv'nor.
Always read The Times through first...
in case there was anything too disturbing in it.
Mother never knew what the word "socialist" meant till she was past 50.
Remember standing at the foot of the bed there...
telling them I wanted to be a painter.
"The Gurneys have never been slackers," he said.
"Earned their privileges."
Great concession letting me study law.
Not the Gurney tradition, no. Always the army.
# Feet, feet, feet The boys are marching #
A little more grapeshot, Captain Bragg.
Give 'em a touch of the cold steel, boys.
Close. It's getting close.
I can feel her hot breath. Wonderful, wonderful.
One slip. Wonderful. The worms have the best of it.
They dine off the tenderest joints. Juicy breasts, white thighs.
'Tis a far, far better thing I do now than I've ever done.
No, sir, no bandage. Die, my dear doctor?
Oh, that is the last thing I shall do.
Is that you, my love? Come to me.
Come!
Touched him. Saw her.
Towers of death and silence.
Angels of fire and ice. Saw Alexander...
covered with honey and beeswax in his tomb.
Felt the flowers growing over me.
Oh, a man must have vision.
How else could an English judge, and peer of the realm...
take moonlit trips to Marrakesh and Ponders End?
See six vestal virgins smoking cigars?
Moses in bedroom slippers?
Naked bosoms floating past Formosa?
Just time for a quick one.
Be of good cheer, Master Ridley,
and play the man.
There's plenty of time to win this game...
and beat the Spaniards too.
Form squares, men!
Smash the Mahdi... and Binnie Barnes!
- Are you ready, Your Lordship?
Bleeding bloody hell.
"I am the resurrection and the life, "sayeth the Lord.
"He that believeth in me...
though he were dead, yet shall he live.
And whomsoever liveth and believeth in me...
shall never die.
Gilead is mine and Manasses is mine.
Ephraim also is the strength of my head.
Judah is my lawgiver...
and Moab is my washpot.
Over Edom will I cast out my shoe...
and upon Philistria will I triumph.
Who will lead me into the strong city...
and who will bring me into Edom?"
#All things bright and beautiful #
#All creatures great and small #
#All things wise and wonderful #
#The Lord God made them all ##
An excellent service, Bertie. Created exactly the right impression.
Damned if I could understand a word of it.
I hardly expected you to, my boy.
Charles, I must have a word with you.
Charles, you see, this was a service...
which I could not have conducted for someone who may have laid...
vi-violent hands upon himself.
Wait, Charles. A disturbing rumor has reached me.
Tell me, did Ralph commit suicide?
Suicide? Tucker found Ralph hanging in his bedroom...
wearing a cocked hat, underpants and a ballet skirt.
- Does that sound like suicide? - Oh, no, no, it does not.
But l-l-I had to be sure, Charles. After all, he...
well, he is buried in consecrated ground.
I must say, it's damned odd to find Uncle Ralph...
hanging around like that in a ballet skirt.
Charles, didn't you say Ralph was always rather... artistic?
He was willful, stubborn, and this time he went too far.
But he was my brother. Well, half brother.
I will not have you calling him artistic.
Cocked hat. Cocked hat. You said cocked hat, Charles.
Wh-Why was Ralph wearing a cocked hat?
Trying it on for size, obviously.
I told him not to remain a widower.
The guv'nor didn't have to start breeding again.
It was not pleasant for a man of Ralph's age,
but that was something he had to get on top of.
Underpants. Wh-Why was...
Why was he... Why was he... Why was he in his underpants, Charles?
Well, he was in his bedroom, wasn't he?
I thought all our troubles would be over...
when he took a fancy to young Grace Shelley.
- That would have solved everything. - Yes, wouldn't it just?
I do not know what all the bother is about.
Uncle Ralph has got an heir: Jack, the 14th earl.
Yes, there's always Jack.
Yes, it's gonna be awkward. Damned awkward.
Well, Ralph knew the situation. I'm sure he's made proper arrangements.
It's simply a matter of finding out who he's made legal guardian of the estate.
Ballet skirt!
What on earth was he doing in a ballet skirt, Charles? Answer me that.
A Mr. Matthew Peake to see you, Sir Charles.
Thank you, Tucker. Come on in, Peake.
I believe you know everyone here.
I have that honor, Sir Charles.
All right, that's all, Tucker. We're not to be disturbed.
Uh, might I suggest, Sir Charles, that Tucker stays?
What?
Hmm, quite.
Well, Tucker, it seems you're going to hear something to your advantage.
- Yes. - Do sit down, Tucker.
Thank you, madame.
May I take this opportunity to express my condolences?
Yes, yes, but do get on with it.
But, Sir Charles, shouldn't we wait?
- I mean, His Lordship's heir. - He's been notified.
Wasn't able to get away for the funeral, so he's not likely to come now.
Very well. I will inform him later.
"I, Ralph Douglas Christopher Alexander Gurney...
of Gurney House in the county of Bedfordshire,
hereby revoke all former wills and codicils and declare this to be my last will.
I appoint Mr. Matthew Peake of 17 Brownlow Gardens, Bedfordshire,
to be the sole executor of my will.
I give and bequeath unto my manservant, Daniel Tucker...
the sum of £30,000 free of duty."
- What? - Thirty thousand?
There follow a number of bequests to various charities.
I'll run through them briefly.
I bequeath the sum of £5,000 to the Tail Wavers Registered National Charity,
£3,000 to the Bankers Benificent Society, Limited...
Thirty-thousand smackers! Yippee!
# I'm Gilbert the Filbert The Knut with a "K" #
#The pride of Piccadilly The blase roue #
# Oh, Hades, the ladies who leave their wooden hats #
# For Gilbert the Filbert The colonel of the Knuts ##
I say, Tucker seems a bit hit up.
So are the ways of everyone, my boy, who is greedy of gain.
Now then, Peake, what about the Zambezi Mission?
And what about the Overseas Bishoprics Fund?
- Oh, never mind about them, Bertie! - Charles, the Zambezi...
What about the estate?
"I devise and bequeath the remainder of my estate, both real and personal,
whatsoever and wheresoever to which I might be entitled...
or over which I have any disposing at the time of my death...
to my beloved son, Jack Arnold Alexander Tancred Gurney...
the 14th earl of Gurney, for his own use absolutely. "
For his own use absolutely?
Well, who's been appointed legal guardian?
No one.
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down. Yea, we wept...
You mean Jack's free to run the estate and everything?
Jack'll cheer up the House of Lords.
Oh, Ralph obviously let his personal feelings come before his duty to his family.
Well, we'll just have to fight. Awkward.
There's bound to be a scandal, but there's no choice.
"If this will be contested in any way,
the whole of my estate, both real and personal,
is bequeathed to the charities herewith: The Earl Haig Fund..."
- It's disgraceful! - May God forgive him.
How bizarre. What a macabre sense of humor.
- But, Father, I don't understand. - You ask him to explain before he explodes.
Blast you, there's land at stake here, Gurney land!
- I'm completely in the fog. - When were you not?
I don't understand what...
Ladies and gentlemen, the queen's right trusty and well-beloved cousin,
Jack Arnold Alexander Tancred Gurney,
14th earl of Gurney.
Hello.
I'm sorry I wasn't here before. I received the news only yesterday.
I'm afraid our little community is somewhat cut off.
I hope you'll forgive me. I know he will.
I've just been to his grave.
Thank you, Uncle Charles, for making all the arrangements.
Aunt Claire, you haven't changed.
Nor you.
You must be Dinsdale.
Yes, I suppose I must be. How do you do?
Are you still angry with me, Bishop?
Let me put your minds at rest.
I'm coming back to take my place in the world.
The monastic ideal isn't easy. I've had many broken nights.
But I'm coming back refreshed, though hardly equipped for society.
I shall need your help, Charles.
Come. We're all one family. Let's wash away the old sores.
If the bishop doesn't mind, I think we should pray.
- Pray? - For love and understanding.
Surely you pray for love and understanding?
Every night... without success.
- You too, my son. - I'm a Methodist.
I'm sure you're still a Christian. Come.
For me.
Yes, my lord.
A prayer should rise up like incense.
A prayer is an act of faith and union.
To pray means to ask, to beg, to plead.
A prayer is a message to heaven. You are talking directly to God.
Express your desires freely. Don't be afraid.
I know them already.
For I am the creator and ruler of the universe.
Khoda, the one supreme being and infinite personal being.
Yaweh, Shangri-Ti and EI,
the First Immoveable Mover, yea,
I am the Absolute, Unknowable, Righteous, Eternal,
the Lord of Hosts, King of Kings, Lord of Lords,
the Father, Son and Holy Ghost,
the One True God, the God of love,
the Christ!
His Lordship is a paranoid schizophrenic.
Paranoid schizophrenic? But he's a Gurney.
Then he's a paranoid schizophrenic Gurney who believes he's God.
But we've always been Church of England.
His idea of the world we live in...
is determined solely by his feelings.
What he feels is, is.
If my nephew is bonkers, why the blazes did you let him out?
He's a voluntary patient in a private clinic, free to go whenever he chooses.
His father insisted on no official certification.
If you want him detained here permanently, you must bring him before the Board of Control...
or get a master in lunacy to sign an order.
Later, after we've got a few things settled.
From a medical point of view,
a plunge into the working world won't do the earl any harm.
Won't do him any harm? What about the rest of us?
He's not dangerous. Besides, I shall be on hand.
It'll be an interesting experiment.
A harsh dose of reality can help towards a cure.
Cure! You've had him here for seven years. Look at him.
What have you been doing?
Exercising patience and understanding,
something he'll need from his family.
Yes, but why haven't you used the knife?
Because lobotomy is irrelevant and dangerous in this case.
He can't forget being rejected by his mother and father at the age of 11.
They sent him away, alone...
into a primitive community of licensed bullies and pederasts.
- You mean he went to public school? - Exactly.
I'm aware of psychotherapy's messy inadequacies,
but I hope that my current research will put it all...
on a more scientific basis.
But it depends on my getting a Guldenheim grant.
Well, never mind about that. What aboutJack?
Remember he's suffering from delusions of grandeur.
In reality, he's an earl, an English aristocrat,
a member of the ruling class.
Naturally he's come to believe there's only one person grander than that:
The Lord God Almighty Himself.
- Are you English? - No.
Ahhh.
What's all this, then?
It's His Lordship's effects. Sign here, please.
Christ.
If I saw a man eating grass, I'd say he was hungry.
They'd have him certified.
They claim that snow is only precipitation and not candied dew.
Whroom! I'm always thinking so fast.
Whroom! Space and time exist only within the walls of my brain.
Whroom! What I'm trying to say...
is if the words sound queer or funny to your ear,
a little bit jumbled up and jivey,
sing mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy.
Ivy, ivy? Who's Ivy? I've... I, l...
For I'm the Lord Jesus come again in my own body...
to heal the sick, the troubled and the ignorant.
I am he that liveth, and behold, I am alive for everyone.
Is everybody happy? Now hear this.
I come to proclaim the new dispensation.
The gospel dispensation promised only salvation to the soul.
The new dispensation gives it to the body as well.
Jesus Christ... Mark l... suffered to redeem the spirit...
to let the body separate it from God.
So Satan found the place in man and formed in him a false love, a love of self.
Explode! Only feel.
Love can sin no more.
Most anything you touch, see and feel glorifies my love.
Top hat is my miter, and the walking stick my rod.
Oh, dear.
Once I get started, it's... it's terribly difficult to stop.
- I'm so sorry. - No, no, no, no.
It's fascinating. How do you know you're God?
Simple. When I pray to Him, I find I'm talking to myself.
I see. Well, how did it happen?
How did you come to be in this state of grace?
Like every prophet, I saw visions, heard voices, I ran.
The voices of St. Francis, Socrates, General Gordon and Timothy O'Leary...
all told me I was God.
It was Sunday, August 25, at 3:32.
I heard a terrible thunderclap and saw a body of light...
like the light from the sun and red as fire.
I cried, "Hallelujah, Lord. What will You do?"
And the light vanished.
Blackness and darkness...
until a great brush dipped in light swept across the sky,
and I saw the diversity, distinction and variety...
all clearly rolled up into the unity...
of universal love.
- Where did all this happen? - East Acton, outside the public urinal.
What does it feel like to be God?
Like a river flowing everywhere.
I pick up a newspaper, and I'm everywhere...
conducting a summit conference, dying of hunger in a Peruvian gutter,
accepting the Nobel Prize for literature, raping a nun in Sumatra.
Under this protective outer shell...
I'm God-filled.
Your Lordship, Sir Cha... One moment.
- What the... - I haven't finished yet.
Sir Charles Gurney, my lord.
- Insolent clown. - I heard that, Sir Charles.
The world's gone mad. He'll have to go.
Hadn't we better wait? Somebody new mightn't understand the situation.
Why is he hanging on with 30,000 in the bank?
- Out of love. - Love? Tucker? Rot.
There are certain matters to do with the estate that need clearing up.
Nothing important. Just need your signature.
- Gives me power to handle odd things. - Of course, Uncle.
There's no need to read it. Just take my word.
I take your word. I put on my glasses because I feel cold.
- Where do I sign? - Just there.
Excellent, excellent. Easily done, eh?
"I, the undersigned, Mycroft Holmes"?
Who's Mycroft Holmes?
Brother of Sherlock Holmes, you illiterate oaf.
- But your name's Jack. - Never call me that!
Jack's a word I reject absolutely.
It's a word I put into my galvanized pressure cooker.
Whreeep! Jack's dead.
All right, all right. What should we call you then?
Any of the nine billion names of God...
Your Lordship will do, orJ.C., Eric, Bert, Barney Entwistle.
I know exactly who I am.
- You asked for these, my lord. - Burn them, Mr. Tucker, burn them.
But great Scott, man. These are your coronation robes.
A lot of tradition here, my lord.
The axe must be laid to the root, Uncle Charles.
Pride and riches, pomp and property, all must be locked off.
Love makes all men equal.
I love you dearly, Uncle Charles.
Keep them, if you feel so lost.
Join me in a constitutional before lunch, Mr. Tucker?
Enjoy yourselves while I'm gone. Relax. Have sex.
My God!
Yes?
No, no, no. Nothing.
Well? You heard what he said, Charles.
I did.
Destroying property. All men are equal.
Do you know what this means, Claire?
He's not only mad, he's Bolshie!
Smell the soul dust from the lawns and hedgerows.
Oh, what a beautiful day I've made.
Look. Soft thistle and nigella.
What?
No water in days? Sorry.
Can't think of everything. I'll see to it.
Remember the Sunday picnics, Mr. Tucker?
The world was all top hats and white lace.
And the best heavy silverware.
- A snort, Your Lordship? - Thank you.
If only I knew then who I was now.
Mmm, Mr. Grasshopper.
Of course I bless you, you cherub,
along with J. Edgar Hoover.
This is the first chance I've had of speaking to you alone.
- Be on your guard, sir. - You puzzle me, Mr. Tucker.
The family... I've seen them at work before.
They got the power. They make the rules.
Back there, they're plotting against you like mad.
Love cannot doubt nor faith the mustard seed.
"Plotting" is a word I put into my galvanized pressure cooker.
Vroooom! It's gone.
Feeling persecuted is one of the signs of paranoid schizophrenia.
Many poor wretches in Dr. Herder's dancing academy suffered from same.
"I am being watched," they said. "Everybody is against me," they cried.
You've set up profound negative reactions with your Kremlin plots.
I'm leaving you.
Resist it, Mr. Tucker. That way madness lies.
That's the thanks you get. He's the same as all the rest.
What he doesn't want to be so just isn't so.
No skin off my nose. My 30,000's safe.
And I deserve every last penny of it.
And more, and more and more!
What's keeping you then, Dan? Be honest now, Daniel.
Fear. Fear and habit.
You get into the habit of serving.
Born a servant, see. Son of a servant.
Family of servants. From a nation of servants!
The first thing an Englishman does, straight from his mother's womb, is touch his forelock.
That's how they can tell the wrinkled little bastard's English.
They don't know about me.
A lot they don't know about Daniel Tucker.
Just old faithful Tucker. Give doggie boney.
You know who I really am? Alexei Kronstadt.
Anarchist, Trotskyist, Communist, revolutionary. I'm a cell!
For years I've been working for the revolution.
Spitting in the ox soup.
Peeing on the Wedgewood plates.
# So raise the scarlet banner high #
# Beneath its shade we live and die ##
J.C.!
Bert!
My lord!
Barney Entwistle.
- Tea, madame? - Oh, uh, yes.
Tucker, what was that song you were singing last night?
An old German hymn, madame.
"Tannenbaum."
Milk or lemon?
Lemon.
I say, where is the guv'nor? Ah, is that tea, Tucker? Just the job.
He's in town, trying to find a way around this mess.
- When's he back? - Oh, any time now...
if he doesn't drop in on his mistress first.
Hope he gets things sorted out soon. It's getting damned awkward in the village.
- Awkward? - Well, they expect us Gurneys to be in everything.
Mrs. Piggot-Jones and Mrs. Treadwell and all the other old girls,
they thought it would be a splendid idea if the new earl was to open the fete on Sunday.
I hardly dare ask, but naturally you told them it would be impossible?
- Milk or lemon? - Lemon, please, Tucker.
Yes, but, you see, I am the prospective parliamentary candidate for the division,
and I have to watch my step with them.
I couldn't very well say that he was "non-compis," could I?
- Well, where is he now? - Up there.
Look what you've done.
Never get tea stains out. Show some consideration.
- He... It's yogi, isn't it? - Tea, my lord?
It's no use, Tucker. I've tried. He's asleep. Dead to the world.
His body sleeps, but his divinity is always watching.
Milk, please. Any toasted muffin?
Yes.
- Shall I bring 'em up? - No, I'll be right down.
It is yogi, isn't it? Or a form of yogi?
Don't give me another headache, Dinsdale.
You look ill, Mr. Tucker.
Bed, Mr. Tucker, right now.
Thank you, my lord.
Welcome, Dinsdale.
Yes. I mean, how are you?
Sometimes my spirits sink below the high water mark in Palestine,
but I'm adjusting gradually.
For what I am about to receive, may I make myself truly thankful.
Soon I must be moving on.
Sail away, Lalaha, New Jersey, Port Said and Crewe.
First, I shall command the Pope to consecrate a planeload of contraceptives...
for the priest-ridden Irish.
Arise, shine, for my light is come...
and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.
# Here is the rag See how it goes #
# Down on your heels Up on your toes #
#That's the way to do the varsity drag #
Piggot-Jones and Mrs. Treadwell.
#You can pass many a class whether you're dumb or wise #
# If you all answer the call when your professor cries #
- Everybody! - # Down on the heels, up on the toes #
# Stay after school Learn how it goes #
# Everybody do the varsity #
# Everybody do the varsity Everybody do the varsity #
# Everybody do the varsity drag ##
Welcome, ladies. I'm the new lord.
- You know Lady Claire and my cousin Dinsdale.
Oh, ladies, this is a surprise.
But delightful, really delightful.
Dear Sir Dinsdale, do forgive us for dropping in.
We thought we'd just take a stroll out to the manor. It's only six miles.
We've come to try to persuade His Lordship to open our little church fete.
Do say yes, my lord.
I always say yes, whatever question.
How splendid!
If you'll excuse us, we have a lot to do.
Stay to tea. You be mother.
Go and see if your father's back.
Tell me, ladies, what do I do at this gala opening of yours?
Do I charm bracelets, swing lead, break wind, pass water?
Yes... No!
You'll make a speech.
On what text, Mother Superior?
Oh, we leave that to the speaker.
It can be any topic of current interest:
Hanging, immigration or the stranglehold of the unions.
But I've always felt the speeches should be about Britain and our way of life.
- Britain? - Mm-hmm.
A fly-blown speck in the North Sea.
You can't kick the natives in the back streets of Calcutta anymore.
Oh, he's joking again. Aren't you, my lord?
I'm not laughing, Pamela, and we can't stay here, Lady Claire.
- Then for Christ's sake, go. - Oh, don't go for my sake.
Oh. Delicious. Homegrown?
No, I bought them. I mean, they go with...
Ladies, I've decided to begin my second ministry at your gathering.
Last time I preached the Word in holy Galilee, I spoke in parables. Mistake!
Now I must speak plain. God is love.
- Love? - Love.
As water is wet, as jade is hard,
as bread is life, so God is love.
Mrs. Pamela Treadwell, can you love?
Can your blood bubble, flesh melt, thighs twitch, heart burst for love?
Your Lordship, I'm a married woman...
Remember the commandment I gave you: "Love one another as I love you."
Stay back. My husband is a master of hounds.
Fill your hearts! Let your souls dance, your eyes sparkle!
Be bird happy!
- Oh, what is it? - A Watusi walking stick.
Big people, the Watusi.
Ladies, come back. I'll fill your bodies.
- Oh, I'm awfully sorry. Have you seen my father?
I am and the resurrection and the light!
Will you kindly stop?
What are those two doing here? Who's the idiot responsible?
Oh, Dinsdale, of course. Who else?
You'll have to do something about that boy.
Well, he'll soon be off our hands.
Old Barrington-Cochran's on his last legs. That'll mean a by-election.
Well, what about Mrs. Piggot-Jones? Mrs. Treadwell?
Oh, they'll say the new earl's eccentric or something. Better still, heavy drinker.
Be not afraid! It is I!
But,J.C., look, I know who you are.
But maybe they don't. And we... I mean, that is, us...
Oh, let's go and have a glass of sherry.
Well? What did Sir Humphrey say?
Oh, he gave me a lot of expensive legal "fal-de-roll."
But as things stand, there's no way of breaking the will.
- So? - There's only one possible solution.
- A male heir. - A what!
Well, ifJack had a son, Sir Humphrey says we could easily get him certified.
Because then, everything would pass to the heir.
We could manage the estate till the boy came of age,
and that way everything would remain in the family.
Oh, brilliant. A small point.
But before he can have an heir, our lunatic nephew has to be married.
Exactly. And the sooner the better.
Yes, but don't you understand that these two ladies are extremely important to me?
Well, I sincerely hope, Jack, that when they next come down to the manor,
you'll be a trifle more courteous.
- Now, be subtle. - Oh, right.
Ah, we were just talking about you and marriage.
- We think you should take a wife. - Who from?
I'm sure we can find you a suitable young goddess.
What? Oh, most appropriate, eh?
- I can't marry a second time. - You're already married?
August 28th in the year of me, 1964.
This wife of yours... What's her name?
- Marguerite Gauthier. - French?
- Yes. - Gauthier. Marguerite Gauthier.
Isn't that "The Lady of the Camellias"?
You knew her too? Wonderful.
And that's the tune, isn't it?
Naturally I came as soon as I could.
We do appreciate it.
Your nephew is not married to the Lady of the Camellias.
He has no wife. But he believes he has, which is the same thing.
Why did he pick on Marguerite Gauthier?
Another martyr for love.
His delusions are all of a piece.
Marguerite is the only person he trusts.
Why does he keep on about love?
Because he wants us all to love goodness.
To love goodness is to love God.
To love God is to love the 14th Earl of Gurney.
That's very clever, but is it the truth?
Ah, don't come to me for the truth, only explanations.
Can I ask you one more question?
If it's as revealing as the others.
Why does he hate being called Jack?
Because it's his real name.
Naturally he rejects it violently.
If ever he answers to the name ofJack,
then you know he's on the road to sanity.
Doctor, how are my questions revealing?
The first one you asked me was about love.
This is our Tucker, Dr. Herder. He's been with the family for 40 years.
Man and sniveling boy, sir.
How do you find the new earl, Tucker?
By sniffing. He's a Gurney.
A real Gurney.
You don't find him odd?
Odd?
- Soda? - Yes.
Yes, odd, peculiar.
Oh, you mean nutty?
Yes, he's a nutcase.
Most of these titled fleabags are.
Rich nobs and priveleged arseholes can afford to be bonkers.
They're living in a dreamworld, aren't they, sir?
Life's made too easy for 'em.
They don't have to earn a livin', so they do just what they want to.
We'd all be pretty crackers if we went around doing just what we wanted to, wouldn't we?
- Eh? - Yes.
Yes, I suppose...
The late earl left Tucker £30,000.
Since then, he's been very outspoken.
Lady?
No, thank you.
Waste not, want not.
Mind having a look at my back, Doctor?
Lumbago acting up again.
Lady of the Camellias by Alexandre Dumas.
Camille.
It's La Traviata, the opera by Verdi.
It's all the same woman: Marguerite Gauthier, a figure of romance.
My dear chap, you've proved my point ipso facto. A divine figure of romance.
Yeah.
- Well, what a pleasant surprise. - How are you?
In the middle of a debate on the existence of my wife, Marguerite.
- Pray continue, Dinsdale Gurney. - I give up.
You did say it'd be impossible to convince him, Doctor.
Do you see? It's a play. The Lady of the Camellias.
- It's fiction. - It's a biography of my Marguerite,
affectionately known as La Dame aux Camellias.
You aren't married. The woman doesn't exist.
Oh, come on! You'll be saying I'm not God, Christ and the Holy Ghost next!
Well, you're not. I mean, God wouldn't be so ridiculous waving his arms around like a maniac,
dressed in a white suit and a red carnation.
The prophet Ezekiel lay 300 days on his left side and 40 days on his right.
He cut his hair and divided it in three parts. The first part he burnt,
the second he chopped into pieces, the third he scattered to the wind.
It was all a sign of something more important.
All right, if you're God, reveal your godhead.
No, no, no, no.
A miracle. Show us a miracle.
- Here's a miracle. - What?
This hand...
this city network of tissues, nerves, muscles, ligaments,
carpals and metacarpals, phalanges.
And what about the hairy-nosed wombat?
I don't mean that sort of miracle.
I mean a proper miracle like the loaves and the fishes.
Oh, those.
You see ten billion million miracles a day,
yet you want your conjuring tricks, your pretty flimflams.
Well, I can't raise Lazarus again. He's decomposed.
- So bring me that table. - What are you going to do?
A grade-one Galilee miracle.
Now, instead of raising Lazarus,
I'll raise you a table.
- What? That table? - Ten feet.
Not with the aid of mirrors or crippled midgets behind black curtains,
but by the power of love.
- Just love? - It moves mountains...
and makes the puny weed split the rock.
Believe in me.
In loving goodness.
Raise yourself up.
Rise up.
Slowly... slowly...
rise up.
One foot... two...
three... four.
Slowly... slowly.
Five... six...
seven... eight...
nine, ten!
There! The table floats ten feet in space!
I see it! It's a bloody miracle!
- Drunken lout! - It didn't rise. There it is.
Tucker saw, believed!
- Did you see it, Doctor? - No.
Into my galvanized pressure cooker.
There's no miracle. There's no wife. She doesn't exist.
She's fiction. Part of a play, part of an opera.
She's not flesh and blood. She's not real.
Marguerite.
How dare you bring that woman here!
- You should be very grateful to Miss Shelley. - Grace Shelley is your mistress.
- Miss Shelley is just a hardworking girl. - On her back.
First you try and pawn her off on your own brother.
Ralph needed a wife. He took a fancy to young Miss Shelley.
Well, that didn't work, so you tried her with the son. It's incestuous.
Don't talk about incest, madam. I remember yourJeremy Gore.
You went to school with the father, but you went ahead and seduced the son.
- That is incest, madam. - Ohhh.
Well, why the hell didn't you warn us?
No time. After what that "trick cyclist" told me,
I knew we'd never convinceJack he wasn't married or that Marguerite didn't exist.
So I telephoned Grace and explained the position.
She got hold of theatrical togs and came down here.
She put up a first-rate show, I thought.
Well, it had impact.
Anyway, Jack believed that she was Marguerite.
All she has to do now is convince him he has to marry her again.
Dr. Herder is furious.
Furious? He's got no right to be furious. He's not family.
He could make things difficult by having Jack declared insane before he's produced an heir.
Damned Kraut. You'll have to keep your eye on him, my dear.
I'm gonna have me hands full getting Grace married and pregnant.
What an entrance! Beautiful, but beautiful!
The looks on your faces!
I should have stuck to the classics. Always said I had the voice.
Oh, this dress is tight. I feel constipated.
Your flower is wilting, dear.
Can't be. It's wax.
Careful your husband-to-be doesn't eat it for breakfast.
You're right, Charlie boy. She is an ice-cold biddy.
Oh, she's too clever by half, that woman.
But I get things done my way. She doesn't know what she wants.
Oh, but I do, Charlie boy.
Lady Grace. Lady Grace Gurney,
the countess of Gurney.
Now, look here, Grace, you mustn't call me Charlie boy.
- We've gotta be careful. - Oh, if that's what you want.
Oh, it's not what I want. It's what it has to be.
Oh, I'm very fond of you, my dear.
Yeah, well, you've a damned funny way of showing it.
First you push me into the arms of your half-dead half brother,
and then onto his loony son.
Well, I'd make any sacrifice for the sake of the family.
Now, are you sure you can handle the situation?
Tricky and all, marrying a man who thinks he's God.
Happens all the time.
Look, there he is.
Well, better get the show on the road.
Oh, where's me lousy camellia?
Oh, I'll be glad to get out of this clobber.
Oh! No wonder she was dying of consumption.
Now, be careful.
Oh, don't worry, Charlie bo... Charles.
I've got too much at stake to blow it.
Damned plucky filly.
I say, Father, Mother's just told me...
that this Lady of the Camellia woman is just a fake.
Well, I mean, I know thatJ.C. Is as batty as a moorhen,
but this just isn't playing the game, sir.
Game? What game?
This is no game, sir. This is real!
My dream's made flesh.
Sorry. I don't speak French.
Oh. German? Italian? Yiddish?
No. English.
English? Should have said so before.
Nothing to be ashamed of. Hard language to master.
But we can't play this love scene with mere words.
Love scene? What, now?
Love isn't just for one season.
Tweet. Tweet.
Tweet?
Cuckoo.
Anything you care for? The Grand Canyon?
A disused banana factory? Absolution?
- A white wedding. - Will Tuesday suit you?
- You deserve a big kiss. - Not here in the garden.
Last time I was kissed in a garden, it turned out rather awkward.
Oh, butJudas was a man.
Yes. Strange business.
- Who are you? - A woman.
Descended from Eve?
No. Doorstep. I'm an orphan.
We'll be orphans together, Marguerite.
Call me Grace, as I don't speak French.
Grace. A good name. It means "the gift of faith."
And that's what I have in you. I'm holding you to that wedding.
Hold hard. You'll be my queen of queens.
I'll be satisfied with "Lady Grace Gurney."
And I say unto you, thou shalt love the Lord thy God...
with all thy heart and all thy soul and all thy mind.
I do.
Oh, I'm happy. I'm the sunshine man,
the driver of the gravy train.
Choo, choo, choo.
It's so simple for me.
Paradise is just a smiling face.
- What's it for you? - For me? Paradise?
A fireplace, a cozy room.
- A little nest. - That nestles.
#Where the roses bloom #
# Sweet Gracey and me #
#And baby makes three #
#We're going to our #
# Blue heaven #
#When whippoorwills call #
#And evening is nigh #
#We hurry to our blue heaven #
#A turn to the right #
#A little white light #
#Will lead you to our #
# Blue heaven #
#You'll see a smiling face a fireplace #
#A cozy room #
#A little nest that nestles where the roses bloom #
# Sweet Gracey and me #
#And baby makes three #
#We're going to our blue heaven #
What are you looking at?
- Beauty? - Oh?
Yes, butJack... I mean J. C... I mean Bert...
Oh, hang it. You're still a Gurney.
Now, listen, that camellia woman is called Grace Shelley.
Close friend of my father's. He put her onto it, made her dress like that.
It's absolutely ridiculous. He wants to marry you off.
Well, Mother's in it too.
And I expect old Tuck knows all about it.
- Everybody except me. - Stop!
You're making me a stunted dwarf, a deformed midget, a crippled newt!
- What are you doing down there? - It's your negative "insinuendos."
- Insinuendo? - Insinuendo is insinuation towards innuendo...
brought on by increased negativism...
out of a negative reaction to your father's positivism.
I don't know what the devil you're going on about, but I resent your attitude.
I'm only telling you about Grace Shelley.
She's my righteous, ideal, planned wife!
Don't forget. Apart from being God, Christ and the Holy Ghost,
I'm also an L.O.B., D.F.C. And A.D.C.
You're dealing with the big one!
I've told aged Tucker!
Who... Same thing!
Injecting me with his Kremlin plots, negative microbes!
I said verbatim,
being persecuted is paranoid schizophrenia!
Wretched Dr. H. Suffered from same!
I watched.
They fight against me.
Where are the signs...
aiming for...
Herder's dancing academy?
I am being everybody but Christ.
No, no, no, Charles. I will not solemnize any marriage,
even of my own nephew, during the period from Advent Sunday...
till eight days after Epiphany.
So, Charles, it must be Tuesday the 12th,
8:00 a.m., private chapel, o- ordinary license...
Charles, Charles, I have grave misgivings, grave misgivings.
- Misgivings? AboutJack? - Mmm.
No, no, no. About the bride, Miss Shelley!
Charles, who is she, hmm, hmm?
What is she?
Ch-Charles, look, I fear, I fear that she may be using this marriage...
merely to enhance her social position.
I hear that she says she's some sort of an entertainer.
I will vouch for Grace Shelley.
- Mmm? - Mmm!
My husband's an idiot.
That's not my concern.
The Earl is no longer under my care.
That charade with Miss Shelley made me feel an absolute fool.
And I don't care to underestimate myself.
I apologize, but Charles had some idea...
thatJack might accept her if she dressed up as the Lady of the Camellias.
Sometimes it's very easy to forget...
Sir Charles occupies a position of responsibility and power.
You know he's on the board of the Guldenheim Research Foundation?
Yes, he mentioned you were asking for a grant.
It's only a nominal £130,000 for a study...
of paranoid, schizophrenic rats.
Charles, need we be so hasty?
Charles, God, in His infinite mercy,
has seen fit to cloud our nervous senses.
But he will recover. He will recover, Charles.
God is merciful. Yes, you must believe that, Charles!
God is merciful in spite of all appearances.
We cannot wait upon God's mercy, Bertie!
Everything is going to pot. Dr. Herder at least.
- Herder? - Herder.
- Is he English? - No.
Oh. Hmm!
We insert fine silver wires into the rat's midbrain.
- That rat's behavior is then controlled...
by the strength of the current passing through them.
By pressing above them and stimulating one area of the midbrain,
the rat is made to feel threatened.
It attacks any rat in sight.
There's really no threat,
- but the midbrain can't tell the difference.
Roughly the same thing happens with human paranoids.
But an unknown area of the brain stimulated,
and they feel threatened without cause.
Naturally, men aren't rats.
Only a man would say so.
Our next step is to conduct similar experiments...
on humans' brains.
I see. Today, rats; tomorrow, the world.
Who will you wire for vision?
First of all, myself, naturally.
I see.
And if I press a button, you'll feel fear... love?
Love? No.
Desire. Yes.
What, by pressing a little button?
Oh.
Think of the risk, Doctor.
Oh, there is only one commandment a doctor need ever worry about:
Thou shalt not... advertise.
My heart...
rises with the sun.
I'm purged of doubts and negative innuendos.
Today, I want to bless everything.
Bless the crawfish with its scuttling walk.
Bless the trout, pilchard and periwinkle.
Bless Ted Smoothey of 22 East Hackney Road.
Bless the mealy redpoll,
the black-gloved wallaby and W.C. Fields...
who's dead but lives on.
Bless the snotty-nosed giraffe.
Bless the buffalo.
Bless the Society of Women Engineers.
Bless the pygmy hippos.
Bless the mighty cockroach.
Bless me!
Today's my wedding day!
Wake up, Bertie!
Come, Bertie. Get on with it.
D- D-Dearly beloved,
we are gathered here together, in the sight of God...
Get on with it, Bertie!
A- A-A-And in the face of this company,
t- t-t-t-to join together this man and this woman...
in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate...
Instituted by me in the time of man's innocence.
- Get on, Bertie! - Therefore,
if there be any in this company who can show just cause...
why these two may not be joined together,
let him speak now or forever hold his peace.
Load of British jelly-meat whiskers! Piddling, half-dead helots.
Quiet, man! Show some respect!
I always show respect, sir.
That's what I'm paid for.
No one can say I don't show respect.
Now come on, Bertie.
Now I require and ch...
I require and charge you both...
that if either of you know of any impediment...
why ye may not lawfully be joined together,
that you "de" now... you "de"...
Ye do now confess it.
Yes, I'm afraid I do know an impediment.
But it's only a rhetorical question, like all the others in the wedding service.
Oh, 'tis no good glossing o'er the fact...
certain Roman Catholic knackers think I'm already married to the Virgin Mary.
We're not concerned with what other people think,
especially Roman Catholics.
Get on with it, Bertie. Come on now.
Wilt thou, wilt thou take this woman to thy wedded wife,
to live together i-i-in holy wedlock under God's ordinance?
W- W-Wilt thou love her?
From the bottom of my soul to the tip of my penis,
like the sun in its brightness, the moon in its glory,
no breeze stirs that doesn't bear my love.
- Come on, Bertie! Come on! - Charles, blasphemy.
- But will you love me? - I will.
Wilt thou take this man to thy... - I will.
- To live together in holy matrimony... - I will!
- Who giveth his... - I do!
- Oh, you. - Come on, Bertie.
- Get a move on! - R-R-Repeat after me.
I, l...
J.C., take thee, Grace Shelley,
to my wedded wife.
I,J.C., the holy, flying roller, the morning star,
take thee Marguerite, called Grace Shelley, because she doesn't speak French, to my wedded wife.
Where are you going, Bertie?
- Repeat after me. - Oh, I know the lines.
I, Grace Shelley, take theeJ.C. To my wedded husband...
better, worse, richer, poorer, this day, sickness, health, I plight thee my troth.
Plight thee my troth, yes.
Well, inasmuch as you are now bound in holy wedlock,
l- l-I now pro-pronounce thee man and wife!
God join together, no man, no man put asunder,
in the name of the Father, the Son...
and Holy, the Holy, the Holy Ghost.
God have mercy on me.
A bit tatty, Jeeves.
No guests, no reception, two plates of curled up sandwiches...
and a deformed wedding cake.
It's not my fault, Your Ladyship.
"Your Ladyship." That's better.
I'll watch 'em creep and crawl at Harrods.
We thought you'd like a nice, quiet affair.
Huh! Quiet's right! And what about a toast to the newlyweds or something?
- You know. - All right.
Here's to long life and happiness for the bride and groom.
- To the bride and groom! - Thank you.
In reply, I name this ship "Loving Kindness."
May I keep her and all who sail in her.
Ah, you should have seen the late earl's wedding, m'lady.
Five hundred guests, the creme de menthe.
Wastrels all. May their carbonized bones rot in hell!
Downloaded From www.AllSubs.org