We must begin our story, sad to say, with an empty chair.
If it were not empty, we would not have a story.
But it is, and we do, and it is time to tell it.
This is the story of my family,
of my seven children, who are all very clever
but all very, very, very naughty.
Aaaaah! Aaaah! Aaaaa-aaaagh...!
This is Nanny Whetstone,
the 17th nanny I had hired to look after my children.
- Aaaaagh...! - She was the strictest, the toughest
and the most fearless nanny in all the land.
As I went to work that day at the funeral parlour,
I was confident in the knowledge that there was nothing, absolutely nothing
- that my children could do to upset her.
They've eaten the baby!
Except that.
- Quick! He's coming! - Hide!
- Quiet! - Stop it!
- Shh!
Children, where's Aggy?
- Look at you.
You're all cabbagey.
Oh...and you're all gravy-y.
As was your intention, Nanny Whetstone has resigned from her post.
I shall go to the agency this afternoon and hire a new nanny.
You will not drive her away as you have done with her predecessors.
Papa.
Can't catch me out. That showed 'em who's boss.
Aaaagh! Whoa! Ooh!
Three days, eight hours and 47 minutes.
So that got rid of her...
23 hours and 13 minutes quicker than the last one.
I think the turning point was definitely eating the baby. Well done, Eric.
Mr Brown, are you all right?
I'm perfectly all right.
Evangeline, could you let Cook know that the new nanny has had to leave
and I'm off to the agency to find a new one?
Good. I'll just...
- Mrs Partridge? - We're closed.
- There's been a tiny hiccup. - We're not here.
- Please, let me in... - Go away.
Listen, they didn't eat the baby. It was a chicken, actually.
There's no more nannies! You've had your lot.
The person you need is Nanny McPhee.
Is that you, Mrs Partridge?
The person you need is Nanny McPhee.
I need her to start right away. I'm late for a vital tea dance.
Nanny McPhee is not on our books.
Nanny McPhee is not on anyone's books.
Nanny Whetstone's gone.
There's a surprise. Hurry it up there. Spuds.
Mr Brown's gone to the agency. I said the children'll be fine with us.
They won't be fine with me.
I won't have them dirty blighters in my kitchen, and that is that!
I have it in writing. In writing!
- Well, that's the final straw. - Pa!
- There are no more nannies. - Whoa!
None. All over, finished.
I've had to cancel my appointment and that will cause trouble.
- I told them not to. It wasn't my idea. - Don't look at me! It's not my fault.
Well, you seem intent on distressing me...
Er...don't do that, darling, please. That's my sore bit.
You seem intent on distressing me, so I'm going to distress you.
You are to...to go to bed immediately.
Before supper?
Without supper.
Did he say without supper?
Never mind that.
There's no more nannies.
Poor him...and poor them.
Poor them, my Aunt Fanny.
They're the worstest, nastiest, horriblest...
It'll be snow in August before this family's straightened out.
"Dear Nanny Whetstone, I'm so very sorry."
- "My children..."
Eric, give it back to her! Give it back now! Stop it!
My children.
Eric! Eric, that's my teddy!
- Eric, stop doing this! - Give it back!
- Stop fighting! - Oi, you lot!
- Quiet!
You're driving your poor father to distraction. Stop it.
Lily, what's this word?
Lovingly. "He took her lovingly by the hand."
What's your book about, Evangeline?
It's about the daughter of a nice man who remarries after his wife dies
and the stepmother's horrid to her.
Why doesn't the man stop her being horrid?
Fathers all turn bad once their wives die. They don't care any more.
Simon. Yours does.
No, he doesn't.
Does he read to Chrissie or play cricket with us like he used to?
He doesn't even sing Loola-bye to Aggy. We hardly see him.
He loves you, Simon. You know that. He's just had a lot on his mind since...
Since Mother died.
You used to be as close as anything.
Not any more. All he cares about now is getting himself a nice new wife.
Well... I don't know if that's true or not,
but it might be nice to have a new mother.
Don't you know anything about the world?
Whoever he marries will be vile and treat us like slaves.
- You don't know that. - Plenty of hard evidence for it.
There isn't one stepmother in there who's even halfway decent.
They're an evil breed. Anyway, who ever likes other people's children?
I like you.
Yes, but you're a servant. You're paid to like us.
That doesn't count.
- I've got my work to be getting on with.
I really am hungry, Evangeline.
Could you maybe bring me some secret toast and jam?
All right, forget the jam. Just some secret toast.
Shall I plump the cushion on Mrs Brown's chair?
I know you like to plump it yourself sometimes.
Oh, no, that's...that's all right. You plump away, Evangeline. Thank you.
I was wondering if I might make Master Sebastian a piece of toast.
Yes, I should think... Er...no, under no circumstances. No.
I could do it secret-like.
No, they'll hear him chewing and then we're done for.
No, they get nothing.
Righto, Mr Brown.
The person you need is Nanny McPhee.
Nanny McPhee.
No supper.
Discipline. That's more like it.
Now, you listen here, you pustular tykes.
You ain't allowed in this kitchen, not now, not ever.
I have it in writing.
Well, dear, the agency has closed its doors.
What am I to do? Aunt Adelaide says...
Your children are out of control, Cedric.
And there was that thing she said about their needing a female influence. I...
You know what she's like. She'll stop the allowance
unless I marry again and give them a new mother within the month.
A month. I mean, it's unbearable. But l... I had to... I had to promise.
Remember we talked about what would happen without her money.
The bank will take the house.
There'll be debtors' prison for me, workhouse for the older children.
Goodness only knows what'll happen to little Chrissie.
And as for Aggy...
it's unimaginable.
Where are you? You mewling half-bakes!
I'm ready for you. And I'm hard!
This is fun!
We got Cook!
The person you need is Nanny McPhee.
Eric, you're not making another bomb, are you?
McPhee...
- Whee! - Jump!
- Oh! - Jump!
- They're in the kitchen. - No! No! You took them down for toast!
I never did! You sent them to bed with no dinner.
- That's what done it! - Don't tell...
- I'll, er... - Why don't you...?
- I'll go. - No, I'd better...
- Well, no, I can... - You, erm... I'll...
- I'll be off, then. - Yes, you... I'll just...
Good evening, Mr Brown. I am Nanny McPhee.
Oh, you're... Er...of course.
Good heavens. I suppose the agency...
I do not belong to any agency, Mr Brown. I am a government nanny.
A government nanny? How...
.. unusual.
May I come in?
Yes, by all means, do...do come in.
- Hm.
I understand you have extremely ill-behaved children.
No. No, no. No. No... Good grief, what a suggestion.
- Playful. - Shut up!
What are your main concerns?
Concerns?
Mm. Do they go to bed when they're told?
Well, no, not, er... No.
- Do they get up when they're told? - Er...well, no, not exactly.
- Get dressed when they're told? - Now, that's a good question.
- Do they say "please" and "thank you"? - In what context?
- That will do to be going on with.
- Your children need me.
I'll go and make sure everything's in order before I introduce you.
I shall introduce myself.
Please, Mr Brown, go back to your newspaper.
Oh, look.
The door's open and there's nobody there.
I am here.
I am Nanny McPhee.
Oh, did...did somebody speak?
- I didn't hear anything. - That's because nobody's there.
Then listen carefully and try to hear this.
Stop what you are doing, put the kitchen to rights
and go upstairs to bed.
- Did you hear what I said? - I've just had an idea.
Why don't we play here in the kitchen all night long?
Let's, let's!
- Excellent notion. - Tomatoes!
Jump! Jump, jump! Jump!
- Jump, jump, jump, jump!
Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!
Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump...jump...
- jump.
Government nanny?
What's she done?
- She's done something to us! - They went in the pot!
I can't stop!
She banged her stick!
I'm going to be sick!
- It must be magic! - What's happening?
- Please, Simon, let's stop! - We've got to stop!
- Let's stop! - Let's stop!
- Well, stop if you want, then! - We can't!
It's her fault!
It started when she banged the stick!
- I can't stop! - Slow down!
Simon!
Come on, whoever you are! Let's stop this and go to bed!
- Say "please". - I never say "please".
Very well.
- Please! - Please!
- Don't touch Aggy! - Wait!
Say it!
Actually, Simon, would you, because this baby's gonna blow!
- And Aggy's gonna go in the stockpot! - Put her back, Chrissie!
Oh, for goodness' sake! Please, then!
Take Aggy off me!
Please, Nanny McPhee.
Chrissie, don't!
- Say it! - Take Aggy out!
- No, Lily! - Say it!
Simon!
- I can't stop myself!
Please, Nanny McPhee.
I'm going to jump!
Too late!
Blimey.
Up to bed, please.
Goodnight, Mrs Blatherwick. Goodnight, Evangeline.
Goodnight, Nanny McPhee.
When Mr Brown said no dinner, I thought they'd be down in a trice.
They've been ever so quiet.
Don't you fret. They don't dare come in this kitchen.
I have it in writing.
- Be careful, Aggy.
It's Mama's rattle, and it's the only thing we've got of hers.
- What on earth are you doing? - Getting ready for bed.
- What she told us to do. - Since when did we do what we're told?
Since we nearly got Cook blown up and Aggy boiled.
May I just remind you of something? We got rid of the last 17 nannies.
We're getting rid of this one too.
Fine! Be brave, then!
Yes, well, I nearly got blown up! And anyway, l...
Hm.
You must feel at such a disadvantage, Nanny McPhee.
In what way?
We know your name but you don't know ours.
Pleased to meet you. I'm Oglington Fartworthy.
How do you do?
That's F-A-R-T.
- Fartworthy.
Booger McHorsefanny.
Knickers O'Muffin.
Sandra.
Bum.
I'm Bum!
Oh. Bosoms.
Bum.
You can't be Bum, Aggy. Sebastian's Bum. You're Poop.
Poop Bum.
You can't be Poop and Bum.
Goodnight, Agatha.
Goodnight, Sebastian.
Goodnight, Tora.
Goodnight, Christianna.
Goodnight, Lily.
Goodnight, Eric.
Goodnight, Simon.
There is something you should understand about the way I work.
When you need me but do not want me, then I must stay.
When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go.
It's rather sad, really, but there it is.
We will never want you.
Then I will never go.
- Goodnight, children.
How did she know our names? No one ever knows our names.
- Magic. - Witchcraft.
It doesn't matter. We're getting rid of her tomorrow.
- What? Wha... What? What?
I did knock.
Of course. You weren't just creeping up on me. What a suggestion.
- The children are all in bed and asleep. - Good. Really?
Hm.
- Good grief. - I shall see myself to my room.
Goodnight, Mr Brown.
No, wait.
What do you... I mean, how... What are your terms?
Your children require five lessons.
Lesson one, to go to bed when they're told, is complete.
As for my terms, I take Sunday afternoons off.
Goodnight.
Interesting.
Time to get up.
No.
Hm. I shall give you half an hour to be up,
washed, dressed, teeth cleaned, beds made
and out into the garden for healthful fresh air before breakfast.
Lessons start at nine...sharp.
I don't know about you lot, but I want to stay in bed.
Sebastian, run the thermometer under the hot tap.
Chrissie, chalk. Eric, crayons. Lily, pepper.
How do you know she won't do something horrid to us?
I worked it out.
She's a trained hypnotist. That's how she made us do those things.
Don't look directly at her and she can't hypnotise us.
- Morning, Mr Brown. - Morning.
I'm off to work early. We're busy at the mortuary.
Some bout of influenza at Archway is carrying off all the old folks... Ah-ah-ah!
Still, what's bad for them is good for us.
Poor things.
Well, I know. That, too. Of course.
- Odd. She normally says, "Have a nice day,"
or "Don't forget your jacket" if it's cold out.
Very odd. Most peculiar.
Hm.
- I did knock. - Did you? I didn't hear.
I was talking to...
Never mind.
I believe the children will be staying in bed today.
The children? What, all day? Are they ill? What's wrong?
Nothing. I know precisely what to do. Please leave it to me.
You managed them splendidly last night.
If they are under the weather,
give them what they want, ice-cream and jelly and suchlike.
My late wife was very particular. If ever they were ill,
she used to wait on them hand and foot... even if they weren't ill at all.
I shall be sure to give them exactly what they need.
Excellent. Excellent. Well, I'll just be off to work, then.
She's coming!
Remember, everyone, don't look in her eyes.
Dear me.
We can't get up. We're ill.
Colds in our doses.
And kemperakurk.
We think it bight be the beasles.
Got measig.
Good heavens.
Then there is of course no question of your getting up.
I'm very sorry to have to tell you all that you'll have to stay in bed.
Hm.
- Ah. - I don't feel well.
- I think I've got a temperature. - Don't be daft.
Simon, I can't get up.
- You must have looked at her, then. - I did not look.
I was under the covers the whole time, Simon. I can't get up either.
- I can't get up! - I'm stuck like glue!
I'm stuck, too!
Hypnosis, eh? Bang goes that theory.
Good morning.
Morning, Mr B!
- Good morning, Mr Jowls, Mr Wheen.
- Thought we'd get you that time. - No, not this time.
- Nice tea dance, Mr B? - Ooh, lovely, I shouldn't wonder.
No. I didn't even get there. Disaster. Children, you know.
- We do know. - We've said it before.
It's not funerals you should be in the business of.
It's christenings.
Good morning. Just excuse me a moment, would you?
Cedric, let me not beat about the bush.
Your children are out of control.
You need a wife and your children need a mother.
If you do not remarry by the end of the month, steps will have to be taken.
Oh, dear. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.
What's your wife like?
Never mind. Less than a month to go. There's nothing for it.
It'll have to be that woman... the dreadful one.
Mr Jowls, do you recollect that...enthusiastic lady?
Mrs Swiftly, was it? Or was it Mrs Thadius something last year?
- Mrs Thadius Quickly? - Oh, don't.
"Oh, Mr Brown, you are a saint. You have a lovely look of kindness about you."
What I wouldn't give for a man like you, Mr Brown, in my hour of need.
- That one? - Yes, that one.
We buried Mr Quickly last autumn. Poor devil.
- He was happy to go. - He was her third.
You don't happen to know if... if she ever...ever, erm...
remarried? You know, number four?
Mr Brown, you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you, Mr Brown?
Good grief, no! No, no. No. No.
No. No, no... no. What a thought. No. No.
Ohhh...
- What's that?
Measle medicine, to be administered once an hour.
Actually, I'm not sure it is measles.
How can it be anything other?
The chalky-white faces, the livid spots,
- the temperatures of 1 20 degrees.
I've seen it time and again. Measles.
Definitely.
Urgh!
- Open. - Simon, don't!
- I'm not taking that.
Then you will not get any better.
Believe me.
It's moving!
Open wide.
Wider.
Urgh!
- Urgh!
Simon, spit it out!
You'll have to swallow it sooner or later, so I suggest you get it over with.
Very good. Who's next?
"Took..."
"He..."
"He took her lovingly..."
"He took her lovingly by the...the hand."
- Oh! Nanny McPhee, you startled me.
It was that quiet.
I just got to practising my sounds. Lily's teaching me to read.
That is good.
They're all good... underneath it all.
- A favourite of yours? - Don't know.
I haven't finished it yet.
- The stepmother's a bit of a horror, though. - Oh, indeed.
It's a pity stories aren't about real people.
This one seems a farm girl, but I'll bet a pound to a penny
he finds out she's really an educated lady.
And then he falls for her.
You must read it and find out.
He wouldn't love her if she couldn't read.
He'd think her stupid
and worthless and beneath him.
Hm.
Buttered spuds for lunch with boiled beef, apple pie and custard.
Hm.
I think the children will be requiring something a little more...
austere today.
'Orse what?
The children are not quite themselves, Mrs Blatherwick.
God! That means jellies and ice-cream, raspberry cordial and God knows what else.
Well, I'd better get cracking, then.
Evangeline!
Where is that lump?
It'll be snow in August before that one's there when you need her.
Calm yourself, Mrs Blatherwick. I'm in charge today.
I understand that you were once in the armed forces.
I was that. Cooked at a training camp in Gloucestershire.
Kept those boys strong, I did.
I'm sure you did. Perhaps a broth of some sort for the children.
You must be an expert.
Best thin potato gruel with peelings in?
That always got 'em groaning but kept 'em strong.
Are you well supplied with peelings?
These'll do. Only a day old.
A bit of gristle for flavour. Ever so tasty.
Get that down you. There's a lot of goodness in a turkey neck.
That'll put the hairs back on your chest.
Smell that. That is the smell that forged this empire.
That pong is the pong of conquerors.
All right, men. As you were.
They actually are starving us.
I wonder how long it will take for us all to die.
Quickly...
Quickly, Quickly, Quickly...
Mrs Selma Quickly.
Have you lazy lot been in bed all day?
Evangeline.
You've been doing measles, haven't you?
The situation's very simple, Evangeline.
The nanny, who in my opinion is a witch,
made us ill and fed us boiled-down toads.
Nanny McPhee is not a witch, Eric. You're very naughty to say so.
I'm sure she knew what she was doing.
- She must be fully trained. - Yes, but as what?
I'm unbelievably hungry, Evangeline.
Can you please get us something decent to eat?
Did you just say "please"?
Please, please, Evangeline!
Well, children, I hear you've been in bed all day
but that you're better now.
It wasn't our fault.
I'm sure it wasn't anybody's fault. You can't help it if you're ill.
But you're better now.
- Papa? - Yes, Chrissie?
Now that we're better, can we get up?
- Erm... - Can we get up, please?
Of course you can.
Read to us.
I, erm... I have my letter-writing to do. I...
I'll read to you tomorrow. Goodnight, my dears.
Evangeline,
please ask Cook to make the children scrambled eggs on toast.
I'm sure they'd like supper now they're feeling better.
I'll do it myself, Nanny McPhee.
Didn't she have two bumpy things?
The word is "wart".
Traditionally associated with witches, as it happens.
Well, one of 'em's gone.
I did knock.
Of course you did.
Lesson two, to get up when they're told, is complete.
Of course. Very good. Thank you.
Goodnight, Mr Brown.
- Nanny McPhee... - Yes, Mr Brown?
Didn't you used to have two...
w...w...?
Never mind. It's, er... it's my imagination.
There was a telegram, Mr Brown.
Oh, my... Oh, my goodness.
- Ah, Nanny McPhee. - Pa!
Good, good, good. All right, I have an announcement.
Yes...
Your Great-Aunt Adelaide is coming for tea today.
- No! - Aunt Adelaide is vile and vicious.
She's blind as a bat. And we are convalescing, for heaven's sake!
That's enough. I don't want to hear anything bad about her. She pays the rent.
- She scares me. - She's only coming for tea.
You'll all put your best clothes on
and Nanny McPhee will keep you in order.
I shall do my best, sir, considering that today is Sunday
and I am off duty this afternoon.
- Off duty?
- Mm.
- You're off duty when...?
You can't be off duty. I need you. They need you.
- I shall be leaving at noon.
Thereafter, I'm sure the children will do exactly as they're told. Won't you, children?
Listen to this, dear. Aunt Adelaide says,
"l am coming with the express intention
of easing your financial burden."
Maybe she's thought the better of my having to remarry.
Perhaps I won't have to go through with it.
- Yah! Yah!
I hate my best clothes. They're itchy.
Well, we promised, so that's that.
Tora's right. We should do exactly as we're told.
We've been told to put our best clothes on, haven't we? Right.
Well, I'm going to put my best clothes on...the pig.
Simon, no.
- Yeah, the pig! - Oh, please, don't!
- Aunt Adelaide, welcome back. - Where are you?
- Here I am, Aunt Adelaide. - Oh! Don't crowd me so.
You're looking very peely-wally. Where's my tea? I must have tea.
Of course. This way. At once.
I smell damp.
No, no... At least not noticeably.
Damp in the house. Hence your pallid complexion.
Lovely hat.
A gift from the Duchess of Kent. She has taste.
- I've always hated this room.
- Milk? - Certainly not.
Filthy stuff. Most unhealthy.
- Sugar? - Six, if you please.
Six.
Let me not beat about the bush, Cedric. You have too many children.
- Ah, that. - Don't interrupt.
Your wife, my poor, weak-minded niece, had no sense of proportion.
However, I know where my duties lie. I gave her my word that I would help.
As you know, Cedric, my word is my law.
I now propose to help you further.
- Oh, thank you, Aunt Adelaide. Thank you. - Don't interrupt. Sit down.
This is my proposal.
I shall relieve you of one of your children...
and give it a home with me at Stitch Manor.
It will require sacrifice on my part. I realise that.
But as my sainted father always said, "Duty, Adelaide, always duty."
- You mustn't. I can't possibly... - Thank me enough. I know.
You must feel quite overwhelmed by the benefits of such a plan.
Your fortunate daughter,
for it must be a girl and not one of those other things,
will receive private tuition in literature, history, deportment
and above all, elocution.
If there's one thing I won't stand for, it's loose vowels.
What did Papa say? He must have told her not to even think of it.
He didn't say anything.
Come on. Let's find the others.
I must be frank. There is no question of your taking...
Hush now! I'm used to taking responsibility for other people's mistakes.
Now, where is the bulk of your offspring?
- Ah. Here we are.
- Oh! - Baaagh!
- It was a bee. A big bee. Erm... - Good heavens!
Gone now. Phew.
- Hm. - You're not well, Cedric.
The sooner you find a good wife, the better.
- This'll put her off wanting any of you girls.
- Speak up, girl!
Oh! What an unfortunate face.
All those bristles.
It might be very hard to get her decently betrothed.
Do you not have a more comely girl?
- Erm... perhaps round the front of the house. - Oh!
- Chrissie, hurry up!
- Tie it, Chrissie.
- Eric, stop her!
- Chrissie, stop! She'll see you! - Papa!
Cedric, I had no idea that you had produced such a...
such an unattractive batch of females.
I shall leave directly. Get my hat.
Your hat? So soon?
- Really? No, you can't... I'll get it. - Hewitt!
No!
- A-ha!
Oh, yes. You'll do perfectly.
A little timid, perhaps, but we'll soon knock that out of you.
Come on, come on. It can't do any harm to try.
I can't find your... What are you doing?
- This is the chosen one. Get her ready. - Papa, help!
- Chrissie? You're not listen... - Shut up, Cedric, and do as you're told!
Nanny McPhee, we need you.
- Nanny McPhee, please, we need you.
- Where is my hat?
Hide!
My hat!
- How dare you!
- Oh, my, what a merry game. - Yoo-hoo!
My, my, what a pretty girl you are.
Oh, this is the girl for me.
Run.
Such poise, such gaiety.
- Ah, there you are, staff. - Yes, madam.
I'm taking this child with me. Get her ready.
Very well, madam.
Sherry time.
Do not forget that someone has to go with your great-aunt
and it cannot be the donkey, can it?
Well, I'm the eldest girl. I'll go.
No. I've always known I was destined for tragedy. I'll go.
Aggy go.
Don't be silly, Aggy. You're not even a whole girl yet.
No. She wanted me. I'll go.
You can't all go.
Well, I am entirely satisfied.
I will keep my word, Cedric, if you will keep yours.
You must give those children a mother before the month is out.
No.
What?
You cannot order me around. And you certainly can't take any of my children.
- l...
Your carriage awaits, madam.
Is the chosen one seated?
- lndeed she is. - Good.
- All is prepared. - Which chosen one? What's prepared?
Cedric, in view of this afternoon's happy outcome,
I am willing to overlook that last unattractive outburst.
- Nanny McPhee. - Off we go, Hewitt.
- What have you done? - I have done nothing, sir.
The children have decided amongst themselves.
Decided what? What do you mean?
There you are, dear.
- Not little Chrissie. - Yah!
Chrissie!
- Yah!
Chrissie!
Yah!
Chrissie!
Now, then, you'd better tell me your name, little girl.
- Yah!
- Christianna! - Don't be shy, my dear. What is your name?
- Yah!
Sit up straight and tell me your name.
No!
- Christianna! - Papa!
Papa! Papa!
Oh!
Then...then who...?
Evangeline. My name's Evangeline.
And what a pretty name it is, too.