I'm going to buy a paper doll
That I can call my own
A doll that other fellows cannot steal
And then the flirty-flirty guys...
There are songs to sing, feelings to feel, thoughts to think.
That's three things, and you can't do three things at the same time.
The singing is easy. Syrup in my mouth.
The thinking comes with the tune. So that leaves only the feelings.
Am I right or am I right?
I can sing the singing, I can think the thinking,
but you won't catch me feeling the feeling.
No, sir.
Mum, Dad was waving.
He was waving all the time. All the time, mind, Mum.
Mum? Our Mum?
That's old Hitler done for, then. So everything'll be all right.
That's what 'em do say. It'll be a lovely day tomorrow.
Whatsits... blue birds and that, over the...
Everybody says when the war is over -
lights, flowers, butter, eggs, the lot.
Comics, sweets, everything.
It'll be all right... All right...
All right.
The war rushing to an end! Exclamation mark.
I do like me a good exclamation mark, mind.
The rooks gather in the lost trees, comma,
like premonitions of the night. Full stop.
Why do they cry? Question mark.
I'm going to buy a paper doll that I can call my own
A doll that other fellows cannot steal
And then the flirty-flirty guys
With their flirty-flirty eyes
Will have to flirt with dollies that are real
When I come home at night, she will be waiting
She'll be the truest doll in all this world
I'd rather have a paper doll to call my own
Than have a fickle-minded real live girl
I guess I've had a million dolls or more
I guess I've played the doll game o'er and o'er
I just called Broadway Sue
That's why I'm blue
She's gone away and left me
Just like all dolls do
I tell you, boys, it's tough to be alone
And it's tough to love a doll that's not your own
I'm through with all of them...
Mum? Mum?
Why, Mum? Why can't our Dad come wi' us to London?
Why do him have to stay back home? Eh?
Questions. Questions. They won't let him out the pit.
Then why don't we stay?
I wouldn't stay in that house for £100, not if you put it in my hand now.
I know.
I know. I know. I know.
Questions. Questions.
Mein hat! Mein bloody hat!
Englander pig-dogs! This is Biggles' doing! Bloody Biggles!
- Hip-hip! -Hooray!
Hip-hip! Hooray!
- Hip-hip! - Hooray!
Enough. That will do.
Deeper and deeper. Look at it now.
Deeper into the black heart of the evil land!
Oh, boys and girls.
Oh, it will be a great day, the day that is coming.
Better by far than any you have ever known.
Better even than Christmas or your birthday.
It will be a wonderful day.
- Yes, Rita? - Will the bells ring, Miss?
Oh, indeed, the bells. The bells will ring out, yes.
All the church bells, starting with Westminster Abbey in London,
then all across the country, everywhere,
from John o'Groats to Land's End.
- Yes, Brian? - Will there be bonfires, Miss?
Yes. Indeed. Indeed. Oh, yes.
And on top of each one, not Guy Fawkes,
not this time, but old Hitler himself!
He can stick his arm out and shout "heil", but, whoosh!
Makes no difference. Crackle, crackle, up in flames he goes!
Enough. That will do!
When darkness falls on that day, Victory Day,
all the lights will begin to glow again,
to beam and to twinkle again.
All the lights will go back on, boys and girls.
All the lamps in the street. All the lights in the shop window.
Lights! Lights! Lights!
Lights everywhere a-shining!
Ah, but can you even begin to imagine what that will be like, boys and girls?
Can you remember the lights? Can anyone here remember?
No, of course not. None of you can recall the days of peace.
But it won't be long, the way things are going.
Thanks to our brave soldiers and sailors and airmen,
God bless their hearts.
Oh, it certainly won't be long now. The great day is coming!
So... Chests out, shoulders back, eyes bright.
Shape each word loud and clear.
We are going to sing the song that is at long last going to come true.
One and two...
It's a lovely day tomorrow
Tomorrow is a lovely day
Come and feast your tear-dimmed eyes
On tomorrow's clear blue skies
If today your heart is weary
And every little thing looks gray
Just forget your troubles and learn to say
Tomorrow is a lovely day
Stop it, Philip.
- Mum? Our Mum? - What now?
Why won't they let him come? Why won't they let Dad out of the pit?
- Direction of labor. - What's that?
Doing what we're told makes us free.
Just sit quiet. Be a good boy. You should have brought your "Hotspur".
Look out of the window before it's too dark to see.
Ben't half a long way. England ben't half a big country, mind.
Excuse me... Excuse me... would you like a cigarette?
- Don't smoke. - Oh, dear. No vices, eh?
I wouldn't bank on it.
Seeing things again?
Summat's wrong. This ben't right.
This ben't never right. Where's our Dad, then?
Do him know about the woods? What be thy looking at I for?
Is it my fault? I gone and done it again.
Perhaps they be Germans in disguise, but...
but I thought everything would be all right
when we have beat them buggers.
But... But where are...? Where we going?
Round and round, I reckon.
Round and bloody round.
The same bits all the time.
Summat's wrong. Summat's bloody wrong, mind.
Is there anything we can do, love?
It can't be that bad, can it?
Mum! Dosn't!
It's... I'm all right. It's... Leave me alone.
I'll be all right in a minute.
Irreducibly beyond elucidation.
That wins a prize. A year's subscription to the "Reader's Digest".
- Impossible to unravel, I mean. - You think so?
Oh, yes. There are always things that puzzle us as children. Accept it.
- Do you? - I accept the sky, I accept the birds.
I accept bird shit.
The point is there are things from our childhood
that we can never properly work out, surely?
They are mysteries. They remain so...
even to a writer of detective stories.
Do you know something? You're not a character in "The Maltese Falcon".
- More like someone in "The Archers". - Sorry?
The way you pace up and down behind me, where I can't see you, on this bloody floor.
Are you pretending to be eccentric or are you genuinely cuckoo?
Do you think it helps? If so, let me tell you it's simply very irritating!
Mm-hmm... Mm-hmm...
God in heaven!
Has your wife been to see you yet? Oops! Sorry.
You said you were not married.
Ah! There you are!
- You're beginning to look better. - Am I?
Your posture indicates that you are in less pain. Is that so?
- It's not hurting so much, no. - Let go these neck muscles a little.
- What? - I wondered if you would look round.
- How can I do that? - Turn your head.
- You'll get fewer headaches. - Who said I...?
But you do, don't you? Severe ones.
I have little doubt that, partly as a result,
your perceptions are a little distorted, hmm?
Minute by minute, we make our own world.
- The point is... - That is the point.
The point is you are, perhaps without realizing it,
beginning to use your body more freely.
Skin aside, I take it that the arthropathy is less pronounced?
Maybe.
Wouldn't you be better off in a side ward, a room on your own?
- Why? - It might be time to work again.
- With more privacy, of a sort... - How can I do that?
I never write anything myself. I dictate. Ever tried it?
Who to? To whom?
Oh, there are people. Agencies.
- Has someone been getting at you? - What do you mean?
Has a certain high-class whore of my former acquaintance
been thrusting her hard little nose into my affairs, eh?
Perhaps I've misunderstood, but you do intend to get better?
- What? - You do want to?
- What do you think? - Chronic illness can be a shelter.
Ever seen it in those terms? A cave into which one can safely crawl.
A retreat, is it not? A cave in the rocks.
Not much of one, I can assure you. A very poor bloody cave.
Oh, no, not very comfortable, of course. There are bats in it,
squeaking rodents with wings of skin and fur,
and eyes that see in the darkness.
Creatures that hang upside down. But, then, you know about bats.
What do you mean?
You see? You turned!
You turned. Virtually all the way round.
Yes. I did. I mean, I am!
- What's the matter? What's going on? - Progress, Mr Marlow.
Undoubted progress. Who knows how far it'll go.
Tomorrow can be a much brighter day.
You know, I never went to see Billy Graham, but there is someone you remind me of.
It's a lovely day tomorrow
Tomorrow is a lovely day
Come and feast...
Swing it. Jazz it. Drag it. Howsoever the beat.
I know hoods when I see them. And you don't play nursery tunes to pugs
with marbles where their eyeballs should be.
I was ankle-deep in the mess.
Now I had to decide whether to let the ooze get up to my knees.
Something needed doing. I had to do it,
and I don't mean dropping the toast to see if it landed butter side up.
I don't get a kick out of it myself, but do you ever go to the zoo?
Maybe the reptile house is more your line.
- Ever watch a tiger in its cage? - What are you talking about?
Pad, pad, pad. Looking for a way out.
Any way to get through those bars.
But do you know what it hasn't worked out?
- No. What? - There is no way out,
not through the bars. They never get out. Period.
What else are you doing? Apart from making silly second-hand remarks?
You wouldn't be meaning my unhelpful, paperback-soiled,
little mid-Atlantic quips, would you?
- Precisely. - I'll have to change my toothpaste.
- It's too late to change my style. - Well, change something.
So far, I've not got much. What have you come up with?
As yet, nothing. Zero. Nix... Nichevo.
- What? - Russian. For the same big O.
I know it's Russian. How...?
- I'm paying you good money. - Money. You're paying money.
Who knows its virtue? Do you?
Good money, bad money, I'm paying enough for sure,
because I was told you were the best, so tell me what you're doing?
- Vamping. - What?
- Vamping till ready. - Can't you talk decent English?
It's what the piano player does while he's waiting for the band.
Jesus! The standard of education today.
Next, you'll say you don't know Hoagy's surname.
- Who? - Carmichael. It's Carmichael!
For God's sake!
Yellow mellow.
Not curling at the edges.
The intro doesn't tell us what song we'll hear,
so we have to vamp until things unravel a bit.
- We have to wait. - That may not be possible.
What if the police arrest me? Or those two creatures come after me?
If the cops had enough, they'd have nabbed you.
They don't sit on their eggs. Know what they do?
- What? - Break the shells straight away
and fry what's inside.
- I was the last to see her alive. - Last but one.
Ah, yes, of course.
Last but one.
You've got some expensive things here.
Nice things, if that's what you mean.
No, it's not. Nice, I did not say.
Expensive, I said. Hideously expensive things.
Tastes differ. You're more at home in dance halls, I dare say.
All the same, you're not groping for pennies, are you?
- I do all right. - I can see that.
- But what do you do all right at? - I buy. I sell.
So does the rag-and-bone man. What do you buy? What do you sell?
- That's my affair. - Sure. But there may be a connection
if you sell the wrong stuff to the wrong people.
- Some trades are not healthy. - Really?
Or maybe the gap is too big between what you pay and what you get.
There's a word for that. It begins with T.
- No. - No?
No!
- Sprechen sie Deutsch? - Why do you ask?
- How's your German, kamarad? - I speak it a little.
How little? Can you say "Auf" but not "Wiedersehen"?
A little. Enough to find my way around the rubble.
Or to say "guten Tag" to some Nazi on the run?
- What are you getting at, Marlow? - Well, am I right or am I right?
You see, I'm a slow sort of guy. Neon doesn't flash on my forehead.
I can't keep up with a retired tortoise.
But I do have funny little tunes that make me tap my toes.
And I get there. I get there in the end.
I think... I think I've underestimated you.
That's no new experience.
- Mr Marlow. - I'm listening. Ears are swiveling.
I have slightly misled you. I didn't go to that nightclub by accident.
- I'm still listening. - A club like that,
it's not just a high-class brothel. It's an exchange for girls, yes,
- but some are not what they seem. - Girls are never what they seem.
I wish I'd never got involved. Murder's not my cup of tea.
But somebody or some organization is trying to pin this death on me.
I wouldn't be totally surprised if it was a counter-intelligence thing.
- Do you understand? - Go to the window.
- What? - Take a peep. Pierce the gloom.
I'll bet there's one of those girls watching this place.
A girl? What sort of girl?
Take a look. I'm only guessing.
I might even be wrong. Am I wrong or am I wrong?
Underneath the lantern
By the barrack gate
Darling, I remember
The way you used to wait...
Why is she there? What does she want?
- I be the pickles. You be the ham. - What are you getting at?
I'm saying that you're not a good actor, Binney.
You know who it is out there with a pistol in her pocket.
- You know what she is. - All right. What is she?
She's as red as a London bus. She doesn't trade in Nazis,
- and wonders why you do. - Me?
- Yes, you. - Get out, Marlow.
Get out, and don't let me see you again.
- What about my fee? - Fee? What fee?
I sing for people who dance, Binney. Let me know the tune you want.
I'll croon it for you when your feet go through the trap door.
I'll enjoy that. Believe me.
- You're cheap, Marlow. - Ten cents a dance, fella.
Where are we going? Round and round, I reckon.
Round and round and bloody round.
In early spring
When birds all sing
Then love was king of my heart
And Marlene's
Of my heart
And Marlene's
Time would come for roll-call
Time for us to part
Darling, I caress you
And press you to my heart
And 'neath the far off lantern's light
I hold you tight
That's our last night
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene...
Philip!
Now, that is German, Philip.
That is your actual bleedin' German that tart is singing.
- Watch your language, please, Dad. - What?
Don't say tart.
Don't you tell me what to say. It is a tart singing, innit?
- It's not nice. - Come over posh now, Bett?
He won't understand. Philip doesn't understand words like that.
Better bloody well learn, then.
Gotcha.
Oi!
Oi! Oh, bloody 'ell!
- Oi, Charlie? - What?
With us now, are you, mate?
- What? - I thought you was dead!
Like being in the bleedin' waxworks.
- What is it? - Bloody miles away, you was.
Well, it's better than being here. A bit more private.
Oh! Be like that.
Yeah. Sorry, mate. I don't want to talk.
Christ all bloody mighty!
It's the fag, see? It's the fag, innit?
- What? - A fag.
- You want one? - I'm gasping for one. I tell you.
- I'm dying for one. - Probably more true than you know.
Ah, bloody old doc. He's off his coconuts.
I smoked all my life. Never done me no harm.
- Give us one, eh? - Look...
Oh, go on. Well, lend us one, then, eh?
Give us a drag, for Gawd's sake. It's bloody cruel, it is.
Look, I can't throw or get out of bed.
No, nor me.
- Why's that, then? - Me chest.
- Your heart? - No, me chest.
Got this bleedin' awful pain in me chest
and all the way down me arm.
And you want a cigarette?! You must be mad.
Well, clear me chest, won't it?
A fag clears your throat.
Come on. Give us one. There's a pal.
Look, I can't get out of bed.
No, nor me.
It's like being back in the war, innit, eh?
Like gold, they was then, the fags was.
Like little bars of gold.
You could get anything with a fag.
You could hump a lovely young girl for a couple of fags.
- What? - Lovely bit of skirt,
if you had 2O Players in your pocket.
- Where? When? - When we come into Hamburg. 1945.
Cor! The bloody place was flattened.
They'd come out of holes, Krauts. Yeah. Holes in the ground.
You know, in the rubble, know what I mean?
Cor! Some of them women... Cor, bloody hell!
You know, whatyoucallits? You know, frauleins.
Yeah. Blonde, ain't they? But nice, I mean.
I'm not talking about no slag. No!
Lovely bits of stuff. Good knockers on 'em, you know?
Philip!
Couple of fags, it was, for a shag.
Yeah. Couple of fags and up with their dresses,
down with their knickers...
What's the matter?
-Chest... - Hurts, does it? In pain, are you?
Are they coming up out of their holes, George?
All those helpless little blonde girls with frightened eyes.
Are they coming out of the rubble? Are you going to give them fags?
Nurse!
What would you do with a nurse, Georgie Porgy Pudding and Pie?
Would you call her an angel, a saint?
"Up with their dresses and down with their knickers."
Time has come for roll-call.
You can't say you haven't asked for it, old son. Time to part.
The old lamp is due to go out!
Nurse! Nurse!
Hide, mind, Betty. Thee's never know who's about.
Christ, we've been walking for ages and we haven't seen a soul.
But thou b'isn't from round here. You do not come from here, do'est?
What's that got to do with it?
Just that round here, there's eyes and ears everywhere.
Oh, I'd know, mind. Cosn't be too careful.
- I didn't know you were so nervous. - I ben't nervous. Just careful.
There's nothing to worry about. There's only trees.
Lots of bloody trees and brambles and God knows what...
That laugh of thine. No wonder's thou make I nervous.
I'll have to stop thy mouth, won't I?
- Oh, hang on, Raymond. - Hold on. Let's get thee off.
No damage, as I can see. Don't tear my dress.
- Christ, this is sharp! Keep still. - Don't tear my dress!
- That's right. Get an eyeful. - And lovely 'tis, too.
Oh, I could look at tha all the live-long day.
- Hey. Steady. - What's the matter?
No marks, Raymond. No bruises.
Hey. Hey. No sense in wasting time, chick.
This is what we came for. I can't hold back no more.
Oh, God. Don't!
Don't touch me there. Not yet. I can't...
Raymond. Wait. We can't lie down here.
Jesus Christ, Ray!
There's a hollow up here a ways, Bett.
A sort of dingle dell. Better'n a double bed, eh?
You've been here before. It's not the first time, is it?
- I ben't saying nothing. - Oh, you dirty devil, Ray.
- You're no good. - Ah, but that's what you do like.
- Thou doesn't want no angel. - Don't think so much of yourself.
There's always another apple in the barrel.
Come th'on, then. Let's see the pips!
Have you got the thing?
'Course I have. Doesn't start getting, you know...
- A bit of fun never hurt nobody. - I'm not so sure...
Not if nobody find out.
You wouldn't say anything? You wouldn't breathe a word?
What sort of bloke do you think I be?
I can't abide things that creep and crawl.
They got to be got rid of, ben't 'em?
I can't abide dirt. Gets every-bloody-where, don't it?
Ray!
Lovely!
Ray!
- Ray! -
It's over.
Oh, stay in me. Stay.
One more done, then.
-Don't laugh like that! - I ben't, not how thou's think.
- Yes, you were! - Hey. Hey.
Hey.
- You're heavy, Raymond. - Pressed thou into the ground, have I?
Off. Get off! Get off me, Raymond.
All right. All right!
Doesn't start getting funny now.
You liked it, didn't you?
Got no complaints in that department, hast?
Bett.
Thee's got lovely titties, mind.
Real beauties. As good as I ever seed.
- Don't say that. - No, mind. The best!
- Don't make comparisons. - Well, they be.
You should be proud on 'em.
You go on about it as though... I ain't a sow, Raymond.
- The way you go on about my... - Ah, now! Who said sow?
Hast thou ever seed one? Eh?
- I don't like crude talk. - Sorry. Sorry.
I'll wash my mouth out, shall I?
All the same...
What?
You still got lovely 'uns!
- Raymond... - Oh, my babby.
My babby.
- Do you mean it? - My lovely soft babby.
Raymond...
No. Listen. Listen to me...
Listen to me...
No, listen...
Listen... Listen... Listen...
Raymond... No. Listen...
Thirty-five, forty-five, fifty...
Sixty... Eight... £2.68.
- £2.68, right. - And one packet of mints.
- What? - Packet of mints. Not opened.
She's the type to ask, his wife.
No, listen. No, Raymond, listen.
Oh, what are we doing?
What do we think we're doing?
I could bite a piece out of tha, and that's the truth, Bett.
Oh, Bett...
I wish this was... Ah, thee's know.
Thee's know what I do wish.
I'd give half my life for it.
- It can't be. It will never happen. - Why?
Oh, God. Oh, Jesus.
I could, though. I could.
You could what?
Bite tha.
I could bite tha. As sweet as an apple. Sweet as a...
No... Don't. Please, don't...
Ray... Raymond...
What's him a-doin'? What's him a-doin' to our Mam?
Mam! Shall I go and fetch our Dad? Mam!
Don't... No...
I can't stand what's going on. I can't.
Hey, now.
Chunt nothing to cry about, now, is there?
Hey, hey. Stop it now.
Stop it.
It's only a bit of fun, innit?
- Is there anything we can do, love? -
- It can't be that bad. - Mum. Dosn't.
I'm all right. It's...
Leave me alone. I'll be all right in a minute.
- Move over. - What?
Move over. Come on.
Now, we can't have this.
Things can't be as bad as this. You blow your nose in this hankie.
Come on, now. It's clean.
- Thanks. - Leave her alone!
- Now, now, Sonny Jim... - Keep thee hands off our Mum!
- Philip?! - Nobody's touching your mum, sonny.
I'll tell our Dad! Him'll kill you!
- Philip! - I shall tell him!
And the man in the woods! And the man!
Do I worry
'Cause you're stepping out?
Do I worry
'Cause you've got me in doubt?
Though your kisses aren't right
Do I give a bag of beans?
Do I stay home every night
And read my magazines?
Am I frantic
'Cause we've lost the spark?
Is there panic
When it starts turning dark?
And when evening shadows creep
Do I lose any sleep over you?
Do I worry?
You can bet your life I do
Am I curious
When the gossip flies?
Am I furious
About your little white lies?
And when all our evenings end
'Cause you got a sick friend that needs you
Do I worry?
Honey, you know doggone well I do...
There. You see? Do you see, old buddy? See where him have got his hand, eh?
And that ben't the only place him have been, neither!
Packet of mints. That's it, then, more or less.
- Can you carry on here? - I suppose. Why?
Mr Marlow should have been greased an hour ago.
- You're welcome. He's complained? - Well, no, not exactly.
- Makes a change. Yes, I can manage. - Thanks.
You going to the Italian later for a pasta?
Yeah, I expect so. I'll let you know.
Wondering when we'd get to you?
I hope he's left more than that. £2.68.
I expect so. It's only what's in the locker.
Anyway, stop listening to things that don't concern you.
Yes, I've done too much of that. I need a Sony Walkman.
- Anyway, I can do you now. - Anyway.
- Sorry? - Anyway. Anyway. Anyway.
What's the matter?
- There's a curse on that bed. - Don't be daft.
You think it'll be many things, our grim old friend.
It'll come in many guises. Enemy. Friend. Terrorist. Liberator.
- Oh, goodness. - Never quite so matter of fact.
Never quite so insulting.
That's two people in the next bed.
Each time's been like waiting for a bus on a wet morning.
- We don't think about it. We can't. - No, of course not.
- I'll draw your curtains. - Count my change.
- Now, now. -Now, now.
- You might get out a lot quicker if... - Yes!
- I'll draw your curtains. - And count my change.
- Which is the one? - Old guy. Ten.
- This? - That.
Where would you rather start? Legs up or neck down.
- I find this a bit embarrassing. - Has to be done.
- Does it? - You'd soon know if it wasn't.
- Count your blessings. - Oh, God. This filthy stuff.
You'd think I was swimming the Channel.
Well, then, lie back and think of England.
Ha!
I hope this stuff doesn't sting too much.
Now, I'm going to grease around your private parts first.
Think boring. Really boring.
John and Yoko... Mark Thatcher in the desert...
Dust to dust... Pyramids... Christ, no. Not pyrami...
"Gardeners' Question Time"...
Plastic pitch at Queen's Park Rangers...
An evening's viewing from the National Film School...
No, something else... Quick! Quickly!
What's boring...? The fifth Beatle...
David Owen and Shirley Williams and... Oh! Oh!
How we yomped across the Falklands...
Oh! Ludovic Kennedy! Think Ludovic. Oh!
I'm being as gentle as I can.
This can't be done properly without lifting your...
The court page... Jimmy Saville, OBE...
Wimbledon fortnight... It's no good...
Ludovic Kennedy... No, "Not a Penny More", whatshisname Archer...
No, Geoffrey Howe... No, a flock of sheep...
Color supplement special offer... Oh, no, no, no. Work.
Think. Think. The story. The story!
- You're cheap, Marlow. - Ten cents a dance, fella.
No! Don't think of the pistol! Not a... Oh! Oh!
Who is this, Binney? Someone for real?
- Or just your dirty mind? - That's art. It's beyond you.
- I'll tell you one thing... - I'm all ears.
- You use that gun, you're dead. - Gun? What gun?
I think I know this dame. Her name is E Lucy Dation.
- What you talking about? - Am I right or am I right?
Really, Mr Marlow...
... You should have better control of yourself.
Wouldn't it be better to think of, well, something else?
Yeah. Something else.
Mr Marlow?
- That's my handle. - I want to talk...
Not here. Keep back. Keep out of sight.
Meet me outside the Lagoon in half an hour.
Little fool!
Damn!
I tried to warn you. I tried to tell you. You silly...
Skinscapes.
Skinscapes? What about Skinscapes?
Skinscapes... A front...
A front for what, Lili? The Nazis they haven't caught yet?
The Nazis the British and Americans don't want to see caught.
Isn't that right? Just nod.
- Rockets... - Rockets? You mean V-2s?
You mean the rocket scientists?
You reds are trying to stop it. Isn't that it?
I'll get you, whoever you are.
Whatever you are...
Wherever you are...
I'll get you!
Philip!
Philip, come back, please. Philip!
Philip! Philip!