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What About Dick? (2012)
- Good evening, ladies
and gentleman and welcome to another edition of oral cinema. A popular series of movies for the ears. Well, we'll be going on air live in just a couple of minutes, so please, may we first of all test the applause level? Thank you. Excellent, thank you very much. Well, tonight's cinema for sound features, What about Dick? An emotion picture for radio which tells the story of the decline and fall of the British Empire as seen through the eyes of a piano. So, will you welcome please, tonight's fantastic cast. Oh the Orpheum Theatre theater in downtown LA Tonight we invite you to picture a play A radio screenplay approved for your ears Oral movies, pluck up my ears Yes, it's time once again for the cinema of sound To transport you across the radio waves To bring you, What about Dick It's oral cinema Once upon a time there were two sisters who lived with their Aunt Maggie in a rambling old Edwardian Novel in Kensington. Emma, the older, was an emotionally repressed English girl, who spent all day staring out of the window, dreaming of a submissive role in a sick relationship with an older sadomasochistic Englishmen. Helena, her younger sister, was a dark-haired foxy minx, who stole umbrellas to repress her sexual urges. - What's a minx, is it an Egyptian thing? - No dear, that's a sphinx. - Oh, I thought that was the backside of something. - No dear, that's the sphincter. - Ah! - Anyways, these two sisters lived together in a two-story Novel with their Aunt Maggie, an amateur dipsomaniac who spent the afternoons in Hampstead under a young Austrian doctor. - His name is Freud, Roger Freud. He's licensed in Massage and colonics. - And who exactly are you? - I am the narrator of this tale. Everyone in the story has touched me and played with me and run their fingers over me until I rang with joy. For you see, I, am a piano. - A piano narrating a story? - Yes! - Furniture doesn't narrate stories. - I'm not furniture, I'm an instrument. - Well, that's stupid. Are we to have Macbeth narrated by the bagpipes? - Or Les Misrables by the french horn? - Look, it's my fucking play and I'll play a piano if I want to. Anyway, this is the story of a piano. - Heavens, is that the time, the 3rd of August, 1910? - Evening Star and Standard, read all about it! Another English human found half-eaten in Houndsditch. - Oh dear, not the reaper again. - No, this one's the mutilator, apparently he eats his victim. - Ew, how disgusting! Just then, the Reverend Whoopsie walked into the door. - Ouch! - Walked into the doorway. - Oh sorry! Hello ladies, do I intrude? - Not from this angle, Mr. Whoopsie. - The Reverend Whoopsie is a, well he's a-- - He's a single clergyman who's kindly disposed toward men. - Especially working men, who I adore above all and put on a pedestal and offer five shillings to. - Your Christianity does you credit, Whoopsie. - Let us not forget our Lord himself had 12 little male friends, all sailors and nobody said a word. Have you seen, Dick? - Not for ages, Mr. Whoopsie. Not since the coming out ball turned unexpectedly fruity-- - No, I think he means your Nephew, dear. - Oh, dear, yes. Oh, he's coming down today from Oxford. - I wondered if he'd like to come camping with me. I'd love a weekend of Dick. - I've always found 20 minutes quite sufficient. Helena, why don't you play something for Mr. Whoopsie on your harp? - I hate the harp, I'm sick of plucking. - Well you should try a mouth organ like Dick, so you can suck and blow-- - Yes, yes, yes, yes, thank you, Emma. Why don't you sing us one of your Victorian ballads? - Righto. Blow me A kiss in the moonlight Blow me A kiss in the dawn Blow me down, I never knew I would dare Now must I swallow My pride while I'm there Heavens, he's coming Inside now He's coming to make me his own In these cold marble halls Where the men hold their balls Why must I always be all alone - Lovely dear, just lovely. - At that moment they spotted Dick. A young man with floppy hair, bee-stung lips and a strangely ambivalent sexuality. One of those impossibly pretty English boys with ravish me bedroom eyes and bathroom legs and drawing room thighs-- - Yes, thank you piano but I think we get it. Dick! - Hello everybody! Hello Whoopsie! Hello Emma, old sausage! - Hello, Dick! - What are you reading at Oxford, Dick? - Beauty on the Mountain. - That's Mutiny on the Bounty. - Sorry. How's the umbrella thing, Helena? - Oh, Dick... - Why does she take umbrellas? - Well, it's just female hysteria, dear. She needs a little rogering in Hampstead. Ew, he has a new machine called the Happy Trappy, which relieves all my female tension. - How does it work? - Well, I lie down, he attaches it to me-- - Where? - Well, in Hampstead. - I say, Dick. Do you fancy a weekend in Norfolk? - Golly, it sounds a bit dull. - Well, yes it is a bit dull, but we can play Tiddlywinks. - Oh yes, that's sounds spiffing. - Splendid! If you'll excuse me. - Mind the umbrellas. - Ouch! - Good heavens, look it's Mr. Hudson coming here to this very house to meet me for the very first time and perhaps fall hopelessly in love with me which he will not be able to express because he is English and cannot mention emotions and has a beastly wife who cannot satisfy his perfectly normal manly urges which would very easily be satisfied with some cold cream, a hand towel and a copy of the Guinness Book of Records. Thank you, Aunt Maggie. - I hope I don't disturb you ladies. - Hey you, visitor, I'm not a lady. - Oh, forgive me, it is your hairstyle. My name is Hudson, I am in rubber. - Oh really, are you wearing it? - No, no, not wearing it, it is my business. - Well, of course it's your business what you wear. - No, no, no, it's my business, my business. - Mr. Hudson is the owner of the Hudson Rubber Company. - Oh, the manufacturer of the Happy Trappy. Well, I find it most satisfactory, although occasionally I do miss the disappointment of a real man. - Mr. Hudson discovered those gadgets in India. He saw the future of rubber and embraced it. - How precisely this woman understands me. And how perfectly lovely she is with her warm eyes, her rosy lips and her firm, welcoming curtly, bouncy-- - I can hear you, Mr. Hudson. - Very sorry, Miss Schlegel. - Have you seen Dick, Mr. Hudson? - Yes, quite a lot in India. - No, no, this is Dick, he's at Oxford. - Oh, well what is he reading? - The Three Musty Queers. - The Three Musketeers. - Sorry, yes, no. - I read French Philosophy, trouble was it was all in French, didn't get a word of it. - Mr. Hudson, you're such a card - Yes, yes, well, well we mustn't spend all day doing that. This isn't America. - How very witty Mr. Hudson is and he has such lovely eyes and such manly thighs and such eloquent hips and-- - I can hear you, Miss Schlegel. - Oh, I'm sorry. - Well, I must be off, I need to lubricate a new oiler for my jigger, I have no idea how that sounded. - It sounds so romantic. Dick, Dick, what about Dick Is there some dreadful mystery Hidden in his history Dick, Dick his light is short of gas I don't think he is playing from a full deck of cards Everybody likes Dick Everybody wants Dick Though he seems to be a sandwich short of a full picnic Dick, Dick's a cappuccino with no foam The lights are on but is there really anybody home - Those boys in the pub seemed to take a real shine to you, Dick. - Mm. - Dick, has anyone ever told you about the birds and the bees? - I'm 26. - Oh, but did anybody ever tell you about the birds and the birds? - No! - Well, Dick, remember when we were very young in the nursery with nanny, being violently incontinent and we were like Peter Pan, we never wanted to grow up? - Yes. - Well, when Peter comes fluttering in through the bedroom window, he wants Wendy, but not for a wife. - He's looking for a Mommy for the lost boys. - You are one of the lost boys, Dick. - Mm, because I have no mommy. - Because you are different, Dick. Lost boys are not so much as lost as hiding. - From whom? - From the cruel world, Dick, which frowns on boys trying on Tigerlilie's flimsy dresses or borrowing makeup from Tinkerbell, or going out hunting for rough, male pirates. Let me put it another way, when Oscar Wilde talks of a love that dare not speak its name-- - What's that? - Well, it's male love. - No, no, not that, that, there on the beach. - Oh good heavens, it's a piano. What's it doing on the beach. - Sounds like Rat Maninoff. - I'm going to give this piano to the working classes. - Why? - Because they need some new instruments. - But I saw it first. - Then we shall call it the Dick piano for the working classes. - Hey Burt. - Yes, Ken. - See that piano? - Yeah. - What's it doing on the beach? - Well perhaps it fell off the back of the Titanic. - Maybe its a symbol. - Nah, it's definitely a piano. - Hey you two idiots. - Yes, Gov? - What's your name? - Burton Russell. - The Philosopher? - No Sir, Burton Russell the furniture remover. - Oh, well, I want you to remove this piano to London, I'm going to give it to The Working Classes. - Wow, I'm sure they'll be thrilled, all 25 million of 'em. You okay, Ken, you got a bit pale. - There's something oddly familiar about this piano, Burt. - What? - I've seen it before. - Where? - In India. When I was in the regiment. It was August 1898, a stinking hot day in Shagistan. - What's going on? - He's having a flashback. - Oh dear, can you stop him? - Too late, Sir, it's started. - I was in British India in Shagistan with the Queen's Armed Gay Gordon's, a cross-dressing British regiment sent to raise morale on the Northwest Front Yard. We were a hundred men under Lord Darling, guarding the back passage to India. One day, I came across a local man by the name of Deepak Rushdie Obi Ben Kingsley. He was making something rather special. - There, that is it. It is finished. - What is it, Deepak? - Well, what does it look like? - Well, it looks like a dick. - Exactly, in fact, it is a dick, but a toy one for the women. - What kind of toy. - A toy women can play with. - Where? - in their privates. - Well, what will they do with it? - Well, they could, sit on it. - You mean-- - Yes. - Good grief! You're a monster. - No, that's just shortsighted, women will enjoy this little toy. - But, I can't believe that any woman-- - Oh, yes, they will, you will be shocked, Sergeant but you're looking at the future. Hitherto, these little private toys have been made only in merchant ivory but now, look, you, rubber, much more flexible, much more easily sat upon. - Good God! - You are very nave, Sergeant, there is a shining future for the personal stimulator. You see, I believe that one day every woman will have one of these things, they'll have models of all shapes and sizes, they will make different things and they will shake and they will vibrate and they will buzz. They will be called The American Happy Boy, the Old Colonial Ghetto Blaster, Slippery Sid, Black Beauty, Ol' Calcutta, and your dick will be useful for a little while yet, Sergeant but when push comes to shove, it will be nothing better than one of these little rubber things, and that is the future then. And then the Hudson Rubber Company will be worth a fortune and I will get a proper Indian accent. This... Yes, this I believe. Thank you. - Morning, Colonel Darling. - Morning, Sergeant. How's drag night coming along? - Well, I mean, I'm very much looking forward to it, Sir. I've been up all night sewing their frocks. - Is there any finer sight than a regiment of young, British men in full drag? By God, it must terrify the enemy. - Scares the shit outta me, Sir. Good grief! - What is it, Sergeant? - Over there, Sir, in the scruff. - What is that? - It looks like a piano, Sir. - Beware, Sir, my Lord Darling, this piano could very well bring about the collapse of the entire British Empire. - What? - Oh, don't mind Deepak, Sir. He always predicting the future. Last week he foresaw Sarah Palin. - What's that? - Some kind of British comedian, I think, Sir. And then only last night, he foresaw the Kardashian's. - Is that some kind of disease? - Yes it is. - And you should see his little dick. - I beg your pardon. - He's got a little rubber toy, Sir. Apparently, women will put it up their hoochie coo-- - That's quite enough of that. Take this piano back to camp, it will make its debut tonight at the regimental fancy dress ball. - Oh no, Sir, I beg you, the rivers will run with blood, the wren will leave its nest, the frogs will fall from the sky and lambs will give birth to little tadpoles. And the owl will hoot at night and-- - The owl always hoots at night. - This one will hoot in French. - Oh, shut up, Deepak! And Sergeant? - Sir? - I want to see you in my tent the minute we get back. - It might be a few minutes after, Sir. - Why? - Well, I have to take a Donald. - A what? - A Donald Trump. - Oh, a dump! - So I was taken back to camp by the piano warriors, a small hill tribe used by the Scot's Gays for moving furniture. While Sergeant Russell took a Donald and hurried off to meet Lord Darling. It's a tent. - Oh, sorry - You wanted to see me, Sir. - Ah, yes, Sergeant. Come in! The thing is, I wanted a little talk with you, because there's something that I want to get off my chest. - That ugly picture of your wife, Sir? - No, my own chest, not off the furniture. - Perhaps it's just a bad angle, Sir. - It's from the front. - Exactly. - Sergeant, I'm trying to tell you something personal, but you know how we English people are with emotions. - We don't have any, Sir? - No, we have some but we don't share them. We're not a touchy-feely race. - Like the Nigerians. - What? Look, this may just be sentimental tosh, but I have been having feelings about something, well a little private. - Any little private we know, Sir? - It feels a bit awkward, I mean, after all, we're in the Army. - It's fairly common in the Navy, Sir. - It's just that if anything should happen to me, Sergeant, and this is really important, I should like you to-- - What, what did he say? - That's just it, I can't remember. - You can't remember. - Just that it was very important. - But, how could you possibly forget? - It was that night, when the piano appeared, that the Regimental Transvestite Ball, something terrible happened. - Good evening, Major Dickhead. - That's Dihard. - What? - It's spelled Dickhead but it's pronounced Duh hard. - Oh, sorry. Splendid sight isn't it, all these chaps in their frocks. - Stimulating! - Fancy a stiff one? - I already have one. - Lovely gown. - Thank you. - Sorry to interrupt this gay banter, Sir, but there's a bit of trouble in the camp. - What sort of trouble? - One of the civilians has been eaten. - Beaten? - No, Sir, eaten. - Eton as in the public school founded in 1440 by Henry the VI part three? - No, Sir. Eatin' as in tucked into a nice sandwich, nibble, nibble, nibble part chewed. - Good grief! - Shall I cancel the ball? - Good Lord, no need to do that. The chaps have been up all night sewing their dresses. - Righto, Sir. But I wish I had, because shortly after the spot dance, we cut right in to who just won best frock for a beautiful hand embroidered ballgown, all hell broke loose. - It should have been me. - It was mine. - My frock was much better than yours-- - No, mine had no holes in it-- - Look, yours is Bastille rubbish-- - I don't know what your-- - But this terrible bickering was soon silenced. by a deadly attack. - What sort of enemy attacks during drag night? And I'll tell you one thing, Sergeant, before I die, there is a place far off in the future where the wind blows off of the mountains, and people will be kind and good, and respect one another and be descent and fair. - America, Sir? - No, not America, Holland. - But there aren't any mountains in Holland. - What? - Well, there's canals, and dykes and red light districts with hookers in the windows but no mountains. - The mountains are a metaphor. - But Holland is known for being flat. - It doesn't matter. - Well, it matters because if the metaphor is to signify it, it must be appropriate to the comparison. - No, no, you see, a metaphor is by definition a comparison between two different things. - That's a simile. But the argument was never resolved. Lord Darling took a terrible wound. - I'm done for, Sergeant. Don't forget your promise. - Oh I won't, Sir. But I did. In the morning, there were only three survivors, me, Deepak and this piano. - Look, there's Helena Schlegel walking down Bond Street. Helena! - Hello, Reverend Whoopsie. Is the flashback over? - Yes, thank God! - How was the weekend with Dick? - Marvelous! We played games. - Who won? - Dick came first. - It was such fun, Helena. I hardly knew I had it in me. - Then Dick found this piano on the beach. - Oh, it's a beauty. - Isn't it? - We're giving it to the Workers. - Oh, not to me, Dick? - Mr. Whoopsie says The Workers need some new instruments. - But such a beautiful piano, you might have thought of me. - Whoopsie was very insistent and apparently has a young man in mind. - Why don't you come along and meet him tonight at The Royal Working Men's Club. - Oh, Dear God! Oh, sweet Jesus! Shit, Christ, hell, fuck, will it never end. - I am very pleased to present The Dick Piano for the Working Classes to Leonard the Bastard. So what do you think, Helena? - I think it's monstrous. Why on earth did you choose him? - Well, look at him. He's beautiful. - But he can't play the piano to save his life. - Congratulations, Lennie. - Thank you very much, Reverend. - Leonard, this is Helena Schlegel. - Very nice to meet ya, Miss Schlegel. - How much do you want for the piano? - Oh no, I couldn't possibly part with it. - I'll give you a hundred guineas. - Heavens, that's more than my wife makes in a year. - You're married? - Who's the clever little ducky wucky? Come on, Lenny give us a smackening, muah, muah, muah, muah, muah, muah. - This is Enid. - Who's Enid? - I'm Enid. - She's your mother? - No, she's me wife. - Oh, sorry, it's the light in here. - Don't worry Vicar, if it weren't for me, Lennie would starve. - Why, what is it you do, Mrs. Bastard? - She has men over. - And what does she do with them? - None of your business. I make them happy. You should try it sometime. - Enid! - What? You're a stuck up git! She's looking down her nose at us, Lennie. - Golly, how awkward. Well, I must be off to play hunt the thimble, with the Bishop of Thornton. Enjoy the piano, Lennie. - How are we ever going to get that piano into our place? - We'll manage somehow. - Well, we'll have to get a saw and cut it in half. - 150 guineas. - I cannot lie to you miss but it's more than me life's worth. - Give me the address then. - It's at the bottom of Glenn Close. - I'll tell the Russell brothers. - That's in Houndsditch, miss. But you've probably never won't have heard of it. - Enid! - What? - She's only trying to help, girl. - Well, I don't trust her, Lennie. I don't like the way she's looking. - At me? - No, at the piano. - Hey, you two idiots. - Yes, miss. - You're to take this piano to Kensington Gardens. - This what? - I think she means the piano. - Well, why didn't she fucking well say so? - Well, she's a toff but she has very nice-- - Oh, she certainly does, yeah. - Hurry up you two Working Class wankers, to Kensington. - Kensington, I thought it was going to Houndsditch. - No, it's written Houndsditch but it's pronounced Kensington. - Oh see, that's why she's a toff and I'm just a cunt-- - Tree boy. Come on in, Warhorse. - Look, Lennie, there's a cart with our piano, that's not the way to Houndsditch. I knew it, they're heading for Kensington. - Perhaps there's a mistake. - Yeah, accepting pianos from Whoopsie Dick 'cause he's a mistake, quick after 'em. - I'll call the police. - No, no, no, no, not the police, Lennie. Think of my work. - What is it exactly that you do? - I told you, Lennie. It's a kind of therapy. - But must they take their trousers off? - We'll talk about that later, Lennie. - No, I want to talk about it now. - Alright, Leonard. I'm an ass reader. - You what? - I tell peoples fortunes. It's like palm reading. Only I read their asses. - Ass-trology. - Exactly. - But why do you work all the time? - Because. I'm a simple girl from Houndsditch Ass readings what I do Bend over, drop your trousers Len I'll read your future too No! It's part of your body Speaks volumes like a book Bend over, my sweet Lennie dear And let me take a look Can't have it Asstrology Asstrology As sound as the hills like Geology All that is written and will come to pass Is buried down deep in your ass Ugh Each little wrinkle and crinkle and dimple Will foretell the future it's really that simple Look on the night side and not on the black side Your face is your fortune but so is your backside Come on, Lennie Asstrology Asstrology It all sounds like hogwash and doorah to me I prefer Psychology Shut up and let me read your ass Slight little problem that's found on me ninth Is written down neatly upon my behind The past so completely and utterly gone Is plainly still writ upon my sit upon Asstrology Asstrology They say that whatever will be will be But whatever happens When shove comes to push A future is read in your tush, tush, tush - It's very late. Where can that neurotic girl be? - Don't worry, Aunt Maggie. Here's Helena now, on a cart. - Hey, Emma, look what I've got. - Not more umbrellas. - She's got a piano. - Where on earth did you get it? - Dick found it and gave it to me. - Out of breath, out of breath. Excuse me. - Yes? - That's my piano. - No it's not. - Oh Helena don't tell me-- - It's mine, Emma. - Give it back to me or else she'll call the police. - You tell her, Lennie. - What exactly do you want? - We want his piano miss hoity toity. - Stand aside you ruffians. - Why, Mr. Hudson-- - May I be of some assistance. - This lady is Nickin' my piano. - How dare you make scandalous aspersions about a young neurotic upper class woman. I shall thrash you, Sir with my umbrella. - Oh, I will take that, thank you. - Please, Mr. Hudson, do not thrash him. He is Working Class. - No, no. He fucking ain't. He ain't even working. I mean, Leonard's unemployed, everyone will be forced to fetch the police, so give me that piano back. Stealing a piano in broad daylight. Oh, why, I never heard the like of it, oh so help me, I've never did, in all of my born days, oh blimey, Lord's have mercy, cross me heart and hope to die. - What is she, some kind of Dickens Festival? - She's on crack cocaine. Get this woman out of here. - Eww, hello cuddle butt. - Do you know her? - Uh, no, absolutely not, never seen her before in my life. - You know this man, Enid? - Yeah, he's a regular, Saturdays at eight. - What is she talking about? - Woman's mad. - Come on, Enid, let's fetch the coppers. - You haven't heard the last of this. See you Saturday as usual, dimple butt. - Can I ask you a favor, Mr. Hudson? That man Leonard that was just here, would you go after him? - Yeah, go after him and then offer to beat his lights out? - No, offer him a job. - Oh, whatever for? - The piano was his, Helena took it. - Oh dear, that umbrella thing is getting much worse. - Yes and soon the police will be here and there'll be an awful scene. - Where is this piano? - Over there on the cart. - Hey, you two idiots. - Yes, Gov? - What's your name? - Ken Russell. - Don't I know you? - No idea, Gov. - His memories gone, Sir, he can't remember anything since the Shagistan massacre. - I see, right. Well, I want you to take this piano over to Trevor Howard's End. That is my country cottage at Norfolk. The piano will be safe there. - Alright, Gov. Come on, warhorse. - And now, Emma, I will make my excuses and I shall pursue Leonard Bastard to offer him a job in the Accounting Department. - I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Hudson. - You don't need to thank me unless, perhaps, do have a hairbrush? - Yes, why? - Oh, nothing. She detains me with her eyes. I have a strong compulsion towards her. It's as if-- - It's as if I could read his thoughts. - It's as if she could read my thoughts. - That's because we are speaking out loud. - Yes, I suppose so. So here we are still-- - Exactly-- - It's not as if-- - no, hardly at all-- - And just to think if something doesn't-- - No, of course it doesn't-- - What's the harm in that? - Simply thinking. - And fantasizing. - Perfectly normal. - You know what I'd like to do? - I have and idea. - I'd like to be a Butler. - A Butler? - In a great house. - How odd, I too dream of serving. - Of housekeeping? - To serve alongside a man who likes order and discipline. - Wearing a simple black dress of silk maybe. - Yes. - With tightly laced black corset underneath? - Yes. - Perhaps regulation black stockings. - Oh, certainly. - Forgive me, Miss Schlegel, I must just go and rearrange my furniture. - Oh heavens. - These are new trousers, I'm just breaking them in for a friend. - So I see. - Excuse me. - Not so fast upper class, middling class, poor n high class. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm a private dick by the name of Inspector McGuffin in New Scotland Yard, missing furniture division, including instruments, mouth organs, banjos and other such items lost from time to time and reported by the public to the police. - Well, how do you do? - I'll ask the fucking questions. - Well, Inspector, I'm a very busy man could you possibly tell me what all this is about? - Certainly. A young man from The Workers, Leonard the Bastard was given a piano from the Reverend Whoopsie. - I'm sorry, what? - A piano. A young laddie for The Working Class apparently playing piano in the Royal McMurkett Class Institute. Young laddie with a great bit hairstyle took a piano country... to the Kensington Gardens, where a man identified later to be Hudson Rubbery Company to, wish to take away the piano in secret and the same piano is far away in a far distant place, arousing the suspicions of the Metropolitan Opera and the police, namely Inspector McGuffin, who's demanding the same of Mr. Hudson return information regarding of the same piano. - Could you just run that by me again? - Mr. Hudson-- - Yes I got that bit. - Do you or do you know these have taken possession of the same young man, Lenny Bastard's piano the same said piano for the country to all uses and practices for your own self abuse and your , please? - I can honestly assure you Inspector, I have no idea what you're talking about. Oh yeah, what I be talking about? - Ah, are you offering us a holiday in Scotland? - I'm not offering you a holiday in Scotland, you daft tit. Do you no understand any English? Where's the fucking piano? - What fucking piano? - Don't with me, Sonny. - I think he means piano. - Oh thanks for the translatoration you upper tightly, upper classy emotionally retarded twat. - Well, do you honestly see any piano, Inspector? - Don't be so fucking clever with Inspector McGuffin, son. From the loo... From the loo, I'll trouble you no further, but I'm not through with you big boy so cheerio the loo, my kind speckled neighbor and when the bag of oatmeal, empty-handed, the more you know the less the better. Bebo bobbity, - What an odd person. Miss Schlegel are you hungry, would you like some dinner? - Oh gosh, yes, I'm starving. - Well, let's eat tomorrow, say at my country house in Norfolk. - Oh, okay. - Next day while I was on the cart, being driven up to Norfolk, Emma took the train to dine at Trevor Howard's End. - I'm just as excited as a little girl, to be going off alone to visit the man of my dreams I was as giggly as a giddy goose, to get away from my family and friends, I was feeling so very grown up when-- - Hello, Emma. - Reverend Whoopsie. - Surprise! - What are you doing on this train? - Aunt Maggie wants to make sure you were safe. - Oh, I'll be perfectly safe alone in a bedroom in a country cottage with an unhappily married man. - Think of your reputation, dear. - Aunt Maggie, you're here too? - I love a train journey. All the jiggling about, it's like the Happy Boy. - Is that you, Dick? - Hello, Emma. I bought me a mouth organ. - And I can't wait to play my piano. - Helena, you as well? - I'm so excited, I've already found three umbrellas on the train. - Give them back. - No, the owners got off ages ago and we're here now. - Spiggy Junction, Spiggy Junction, all change for Coupler's bottom, Wrigley in the Watch, Colonel Strummond Duprat, Lord Dee's Forget, Butthole's Landing, Downton Abbey, Upper Prostate, Fingley Bongley, Lower Forking, and Spunky Cumsnotoil. - Emma, welcome to Trevor Howard's End. - Mr. Hudson, how kind of you to invite me. - Ass! - What? - Hello. - Hello, Mr. H. - Hello there. - Oh, I didn't expect the bloody Spanish Inquisition. - No, no, neither did I. They insisted on chaperoning me. - Well, good grief, what did they thinks gonna happen? It's not as if we're gonna run off into the woods and start playing vicars and nurses. - No, no, I hear the woods can be really lovely this time of year. - Especially with a pig leg and some extra virgin olive oil. Well, look, please, all of you, why don't you just go and play with the farm machinery. I have to go and poison some rats. - May I help you poison rats, Mr. Hudson? - Very kind of you, Emma, but it's best left to a man, this job. - What's more natural on a Saturday afternoon than a good game of poisoning rats? Especially if you can't-- - Well, precisely, it's very-- - Healthy-- - Exactly, it takes my mind off-- - Other things-- - Quite, otherwise mind can get very-- - Whimsical-- - No, regular-- - Regime-- - It's hard for a man to-- - Fulfill himself-- - Quite. - Mr. Hudson, may I help you finish your sentences this weekend? At the weekend dance, Miss Schlegel, that would be so very, very-- - Fuck. - Whatever was that? - It's just, it's my wife, she's dying. - Oh dear. - No need to worry, she usually dies about this time of day. You can set your watch by it. It's from wisteria. - Hysteria? - No, wisteria, she's allergic to it. - She was touched incorrectly in a cave in India. Ever since then the sight of wisteria makes her wisterical. - You do not trust your emotions do you, Mr. Hudson? - I believe emotions are like rats, they should be poisoned at birth. - Mr. Hudson, do you know what a hooded clitoris is? - Yes, it's a kind of snake with a cap on. - No, it is found in the vulva. - Ah Argentina. - Have you any idea what the vagina is? - Well, that's a river in the Belgian Congo. - Oh, Mr. Hudson do not toy with me. My gynecologist tells me I may never be able to have an emotion. - Do not despair, Miss Schlegel, these days we can do wonderful things with the rubber. And now if you'll excuse me, I have to hit Tracey and... But more to the point, my wife is dying again. I must go and give her sugar. - What a strange man he is but I believe he understands me despite his attempts to distract me with interesting discourse about rat poison. - I can still hear you. - Oh, sorry. - Whoa there, look at that house, Ken. - Blimey. Anne fuckin' Hathaway's fucking cottage. - The last time I saw so much thatch it was on a stripper in Belgium. - Hey Burt, see that bloke lurking in the window. - The one watching us? - Yeah, do I know him? - Yes, Mr. Hudson. - He looks familiar. - Yeah, you saw him yesterday when he told us to bring the piano here. - Oh yeah. - He thought he knew you. - From where? - He didn't say. - Look, Dick. My piano is here. - You're jolly fond of that piano aren't you? - I love it, Dick. Thank you ever so. - Hey, you wouldn't marry me would ya? - What? - Become my awful wedded wife. - That's lawful, Dick, and it's not lawful, we're cousins. - Doesn't stop the Royal family. - Yes but they're all bonkers. - Dick, you are very beautiful but you are a little bit-- - Am I, am I? - Yes, yes, Dick, Just a tad. I'm so sorry, I don't care for you in that way. I can't marry you. - Well, nevermind, I'm gay anyway. - What? - He's different, that's all. He's different So very different Oh, very different In every way That's right, I'm different So very different Oh, very different Not gay He's not the same as other boys He likes to play with different toys I like to stay out late and dress in fancy things Of course you do He's not the only one there's been I'm not the first King who is a Queen But it's illegal still So that is why we sing That he is different Oh very different So very different Not gay - Helena played with me all afternoon tickling my ivories with her lovely fingers. I must say, she has a lovely touch. Meanwhile, Whoopsie and Dick disappeared into the woods. Maggie and Emma went for a walk amongst the bluebells, and Hudson busied himself poisoning rats until around three when... - I say, has anyone seen Dick? - What about Dick? - I've lost him. - What? - One minute we were playing hide and seek, and the next he had gone. - He's probably playing a game on you. - Oh, yes, of course. I'm sure he'll be back for dinner. - It's a lovely dinner, Mr. Hudson. - The curry goat is delicious. - Yes, it's something my wife picked up in India. - How is your wife? - Oh, still off her tits. - Still no sign of Dick, it's very worrying. - Perhaps we should call the police. - Too late, we're here. - Oh shit. - My piano, um I'm sorry Inspector, you can't come in here, we're having dinner. - I'm warning ya's, all of ya's, every single one of you toffee-nosed gits, sittin' round with your chips, listening to your Chopin and your Beethoven, after your suppers we have kippers and lungs and requiche. Listen that frame my lips and mouth and drop a little rain, falling from the gland that softly quells the glistening buns and rivulets and streams of Bonnie Scotland. - Is this something about a holiday? - You've not won a holiday, you stupid gits, we're tickety boom, may I ask who owns this piano? - Oh, that's mine. - Oh, is that right? It's your piano? - Been in the family for years, matter of fact, belongs to my wife. - Your wife's as mad as a hatter, coo coo, bonkers. She hasn't got a piano. This piano was stolen from Leonard Bastard. - No, no, Inspector, you are mistaken, that's his Helena's piano, I give it her. - Leonard Bastard, what are you doing here, just in time to confirm a most unlikely story? - I come here to thank you for getting me the job with Mr. Hudson and to give you the piano you love so much. - How on earth did you get here? - I walked. - All the way from Houndsditch? - Yes. - But that's a hundred miles. - Yes. - Would you like a glass of water? - Seeing you is refreshment enough for me. - Oh golly gosh, blush, blush, blush. - So you see Inspector, it is Helena's piano. - How very touching, it reminds me of a wee ballad from my childhood, called The Lonely Trout. From the heelan hills and rills o bonnie Scotland Fra the bogs and fogs and soggy lochs and braes From the moontin tops where lonely jocks drink whiskey To the dingy pond wherein the lone trout plays. There was once a laddie wandered wi his lassie When she told him that her love for him was dead. As she left this lonely boy Whod now lost his only joy The trout raised his head and this is what he said O rum ti tumti TTckle yer monkey Tickle di didle doo Rumpy pumpy Humpty dumpty Tickle yer tivey too Oh hankie pankie Winkie wankie Diddle de didle doo Rinky dinky Tiddley winky Nicky nacky noo the noo the noo the noo the noo the noo O Winkie wankie Nickety nackety Sings the lonely trout Tiggly wiggly Higgly piggly What is life about? Mickety pickety Wickety lickety She was just a slut Find yourself another lass A nicer piece of butt. Oh packety wackety Nickety nackety Sings the lonely trout Splickety wickety Pickety nickety What is life about? Shackety mackety Thwackety crackety She was just a slut Find yourself another lass A nicer piece of butt. Splickety wickety Pickety nickety What is life about Shackety mackety Thwackety crackety What is life about? Shackety mackety Thwackety crackety She was just a slut Find yourself another lass A nicer piece of butt. Oh packety wackety Nickety nackety Sings the lonely trout Splickety wickety Pickety nickety What is life about? Shackety mackety Thwackety crackety S he was just a slut Find yourself another lass A nicer piece of butt. Oh, packety wackety Nickety nackety Sings the lonely trout - I think that's quite enough of that, Inspector. I said come on, off, off, come on, you. Off, off, off, take your boobs with you. And what about Dick? - I completely forgot about wee Dickie. - My nephew is missing. - No he's not. - Oh you found Dick. Oh thank heaven. - Oh, shut your dribble, you big. You're a disgrace to the We Free course frolicking about in pines with naked laddies beneath. We have indeed found him and he told me a joke. We found him in the woods. - In the woods, is he dead? - Not quite but severely blootered. He was attacked by some hungry vampire who tried to eat him all up and do him like a dinner. - Great Scott! - Thank you. - But who would want to harm Dick? - Somebody who wanted to shut his face. - But Dick knows nothing about everything. - Do you know we have a wee saying in Scotland, we men in the nuts. - One can only imagine what that means. - Sometimes the things we don't know are the unknown knowns that we don't know we think we know but others think we do. - Well, that's easy for you to say, Inspector. But it is idle to speculate, since Dick can no longer speak. - I have an Indian gentleman who specializes recovering memories by the name of Deepak Rushdie Obi Ben Kingsley. Perhaps wee Dickie might remember something when he comes out of his coma. - But when will he wake up? - Who knows, a few weeks, a few months, a few years per chance. - Years, but whatever shall we do? - We must all go to Italy at once. To Italy To Italy Oh yes, let's go to Italy Where painters paint so prettily On ceilings there Where everyone talks wittily And no one argues bitterly And we'll free to really have some feelings there Let's leave the soggy English rain And go to Italy by train To visit Florence, Venice and then Rome again We'll wine and dine 'til we are sick And we won't have to think of Dick At least until we finally come home again Italia La, la la, la la, la la, la la, la la, la Italia Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya No, I cannot stand Italians They wear the gold medallions And act like bloody stallions All the waiters there Telly, telly, dirty telly It all gets on my nelly As far as I'm concerned They're pasterbators there Italia La, la la, la la, la la, la la, la la, la Italia Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya Italian men are gorgeous If you don't include the Borgias For they make me slightly nauseous When I read of them Romeo's and Cinderella's Say buon giorno and ciao bella And they have umbrella's Should I feel the need of them Italia La, la la, la la, la la, la la, la la, la Italia Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya Rome was not built in a day Though actually it looks that way The Roman Empire, of course Was the power there There's a geezer came from Pisa By the name of Julius Caesar He was a little bent But then, so is the tower there Italia La, la la, la la, la la, la la, la la, la Italia Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya Italia La, la la, la la, la la, la la, la la, la Italia Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya - I was on the move again. This time to Italy where English people go to have emotions. Consequently, Emma remained behind. Meanwhile, the party arrived in Florence. The traveling party arrived in Florence. - Sorry. - What joy to be in Italy with these friendly men and their encouragingly lax morals. - Aunt Maggie, why is that statue not wearing any underpants? - I suppose because it's so terribly hot dear. - Amd what is that little thing? - Well, it's an umbrella symbol. Oh, here we are, the Pensione Berlusconi. - Buon giorno, Signore. - Bunga bunga, Signor pederasty Inglesi. - Oh, Signor Berlusconi, how nice to see you. - Ah, Signora De Clepa Inglesi. I have reserved for you and your niece, a room with no view. - Thank you so much, dear. Helena is allergic to views. - Particularly right wing views. - Well, welcome to Pensione where emotionally repressed English people can learn to enjoy themselves. How to chew the pizza, how to nibble on the pasta, how to swallow salami-- - Yes, yes, I think that's quite enough single entendre's for now, Signor. Come on, Helena, let's freshen up while they unload our baggage. - Blimey! Look at that statue, Ken. - That bloke's not wearing any underpants. - That's Michaelangelo's David. - Michaelangelo's dick, more like. - Yeah. Scusi, Signore. - Yeah, delivery's are around the back. - Oh, charming. - You bloody Italians, should be ashamed of yourselves, all these naked statues. Have you Italians never heard of underpants? - What's he saying? - He says you condescending English bastards, I invite you to pull your foreskin over your heads and give yourself an enema with a wine bottle. May you sleep in sheep shit and your sphincter become a highway for Australian rugby players. - Blimey, I never knew you spoke Italian. - I learned it on the train. - What is it you two idiots want? - Oy, don't you get lippy with us, mate. Who do you think you are? - You arrogant, English pigs. You come from a miserable island, it rains every day where the men are pederasts and the women are frozen from the waist down. You have no cheese, you have no wine, no olive oil, no garlic, you cannot play football and your music is all poo. - Oh yeah, yeah well, that's where you're wrong, Mister, ice cream selling bloody fascist wop. Cause we have brought a piano for Miss Helena to play. - What? The bella signorina with the lovely swishy hair? - That's the one. - Well, oh, mi apologia, I invite you to stay, for dinner and anal sex. - Ken? - Dinner would be nice. - Yeah. - Oh, I am so very happy. At last I have my own piano. One day some lovely fellas Going too show me his umbrella But until that day Ill play upon my pi-an-o If he's jealous Of the fellas Who have shown me their umbrellas He'll be happy when I let him Touch my pi-an-o My Pi-an-o My pi-an-o It's such a lovely instrument And I really love it so My pi-an-o My pi-an-o Who wouldn't like to play Upon my pi-an-o From Florence down to Napoli The men behave unhappily If they can't get a glimpse of my sweet pi-an-o The Frenchmen and the Dutchmen Always shout and yell How much then But I won't let them touch me Like my pi-an-o My pi-an-o My pi-an-o Tickling the ivories I really love it so My pi-an-o I so adore I'll play with it all night and day Until I get too sore Her pi-an-o Her pi-an-o Who wouldn't like a go Upon her piano The British upper classes Can all shove it up their asses For the poor and struggling masses Have no pi-an-o - What a lucky, lucky old piano - Leonard Bastard. What on earth are you doing in Italy? - I walked. - But, that's almost 900 miles. - 903, actually. - Is your wife here? - No, she couldn't get away. - You tied her up. - No, she's helping McGuffin with his Dick problem. - How? - Well, she's a professional ass reader and she has some information that may be helpful to the police. - Oh gosh, really? I have judged her too harshly as a worthless slut who trapped you into an unhappy marriage. - No, no. She is a worthless slut who trapped me into an unhappy marriage but she is a very fine ass reader. - Leonard, I have been less than generous with you. I want you to play with me. - What? - On the piano. - When? - Right now. - Let's go. - Oh, good grief. Close your eyes Mr. Whoopsie. You're a clergyman. - What is going on? - Helena is playing a piano in public with a mad man of The Working Classes. - How shameful! Unprotected Beethoven. - Whatever are we to do? - Russell brothers, pick up the piano. We must all go home at once. - Who is it? - Open the door, Emma. I must see you at once. - Hang on a minute. Why, Mr. Hudson. - Thank God, you're here. - Mr. Hudson, you're in a state of some emotion. - I'm sorry, these are new trousers, just breaking them in for a friend. - What are you doing in a house, alone, with a woman whose Aunt and Sister have not yet returned from Italy and with no one around to notice if you were to accidentally slip upstairs with a hair brush? - No, I have something terribly serious to tell you. My wife is dead. - For real? - Yeah. - How did she die? - An unfortunate brush with rat poison. She apparently mistook it for sugar. - It's easily done. - I blame myself. - Oh, it could happen to anyone with an unwanted wife. - I wasn't there, you see. I was in Manchester. It was a rubber thing. - A perfectly reasonable alibis. - Yes, the police suspect foul play. They think the same man who had done it to Dick has gone and done it to her. I'm sorry, I seem to have lost control of my tongue. - Am I making you nervous? - Standing in the doorway in a nightie with a light behind you, nervous isn't quite the word. - I know what you'd like. - Really? - A nice cup of tea. - Uh, it's close. - Oh I love the way he stares at me when we're making tea. I know exactly what he's thinking. - I know exactly what I'm thinking. - He can read me like a book. - I can read her like a book. - The Big Boy's Book of Fairies. - 107 nasty positions to do it. - He seems to know exactly what I'd like. - I know exactly what she'd like. - I'd like to play tiddlywinks. - She wants to be shagged senseless. - Then supper at the Ritz and afterwards, dancing. - Then up to the bathroom for a good scrubbing. - What? - With a stiff Loofah rag and scrubbing with a soapy tub of water til she blushes naked all over with that pale, delicate skin. - Good heavens. - I wanna kiss your warm, soapy buttocks, - Oh! - probing deeper and deeper-- - Oh! - Stroking and spanking and kneading and plunging - and thrusting. - Oh! Turn you over then plunging and thrusting you - Oh! - like a giant glob of internal combustion engine - oh, oh. - buzzing haplessly like a bee in a bottle and - Ohhhh! - screaming like a monkey on speed. - Ooooohhhhh! - Emma, dear! - Oh! - We're back from Italy. - Oh! - Emma, Emma! - Good grief! - Ohhh! - what's happening? - Oooh ooooh! - Is she alright? - Oh, I'd say so. - Ohhhhhh! - What is happening to her? - Emma is having an emotion. Italy had worked it's gay magic. And the English were now all caring and sensitive. Dick was on everyone's lips. We shall skip World War I, which was mainly about a horse and move on to August... 1929 when Aunt Maggie went to visit Dick. But when she arrived at the Royal Hospital for the Extremely Mad, she was in for a surprise. - You've a visitor, Dick. - Has there been any change in his condition? - Alas, Madam, there is none. - Allow me to present Deepak Rushdie Obi Ben Kingsley. Visiting professor of psycho babble at the University of Virginia Woolf. - Oh, I read about him in the rubber ware news. It seems you are the inventor of the American Happy Boy. - That is I, myself, good lady. - Oh, it has relieved many of my emotions. - Well, I am proud to have had a hand in that. - We're going to seek the assistance of a professional ass reader. But first, we have wee surprise. Mr. Russell, bring in the piano. - Here ya go. - Good heavens, it is the piano from Shagistan. - This piano has been close to the scene of all these violent attacks. - You suspect the piano? - Of course I don't fuckin' suspect the piano, you weird Indian psycho babbling Chapati muncher. I thought it may help to jog his memory. - If only this piano could talk, Inspector. - Piano's don't fucking talk, you silly touchy-feely wanked out son of a bloody. You gobbledy shaky sloppy sloppy touchy-feely bullocks. But since Dick found it on the beach I thought it might help him to remember a happier time. - This where you wanted the piano, Gov? - Just drop it right here. Thank you. The piano's at the heart of the mystery. - Will that be all, Sir? - Good heavens, is that you, Sergeant? - Do I kbow you, Sir? - Sergeant Ken Russell of the 13th foot and mouth. Do you not remember me, I am Deepak from Shagistan? - Alas Sir, he can remember nothing since the massacre. - Well, Darling told him something important but he's forgot it. - Do not worry, Inspector. I will put him in a trance. Now, Ken, listen to me, you're going to relax, you're going into a deep sleep, not you, Inspector. - Oh, sorry, sorry. - Just relax, Ken, Kenneth. Now, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. You're gone. - Where am I? - You are in Shagistan, Sergeant. - Oh, yeah. Bloody hot, innit? - It's very hot, Ken. - Lord, these bloody flies. - Oh, these bloody flies. Now you're with Lord Darling and he is talking to you. What is Lord Darling saying? - He is telling me a very disturbing tale, Sir. He's saying... - There are some things I am not proud of in my life, Sergeant. There was a young governess I met at a coming out ball , her name was Margaret. She was beautiful and I couldn't help myself, I plied her with Gin and I took advantage of her. Too late I learned that nine months later, she had a child, but by then, my regiment had shipped out. I still don't know the name of that child. - The child's name was Dick. - How could you know that? Because I was that Governess. Margaret was me. This is my Dick. - He's your son? - Yes, Inspector. - Oh, mommy, I'm coming out of my coma. - There, there, Dick, mommy's here. - Mommy, can I have a little suck on your breast, please? - Well, I suppose a little wouldn't hurt. See if I can still lactate. Oh, yes I can. - Sergeant. - Oh, yes, it's happening. - Sergeant. - Oh, Russell likes it, ew. - Sergeant, control, control your energies. - Eww! - Sergeant, for fucks sake, control the energies in your head. - Very difficult, very difficult, Sir. - What else is Lord Darling saying to you? - It's all coming back to me now, Sir. It's a little bit misty but it's coming back. He says-- - Take this piano to my son, Dick, at Darling Hall. - Very well, and so you have done, your task is complete Sergeant, Dick has the piano and he has a mommy. - But we still don't know who attacked him and why? - That is true, Inspector, it is time for the ass reading, I think. - Who is it? Oh, it's you, come on in, yeah, come to have your body read again, have ya? - You're a right naughty boy ain't ya, I saw it in your bum the other day. I said to myself, I said there's violence in that bottom, Enid my love, those cheeks have seen more than their fair share of sorrow and a deep dark secret is hidden in that derriere but I haven't told no one, Gov, so help me, I wouldn't tell Inspector McGuffin nothing, as long as you brought me that little bit of money you promised me. Dear, dear, what's that? No, no, please, don't, stop! - Houndsditch mutilator strikes again! Ass reader ass-assinated! - Dammit, Deepak, we're too late. - Police working on the theory that they have no idea what's going on! - Watch to, you. - This is most unfortunate. I had high hopes that she might see something useful in Dick's behind. - Who assassinates an ass reader and why? - Maybe the King of Sweden for shits and giggles. - What? - No, she knew something, she knew the identity of the mutilator. - Well, how could that be so - She opened the door in her pajamas. - She had a door in her pajamas? - It has to be somebody she knows well. Her husband has disappeared. We must find Leonard Bastard immediately. - Who is it? - Open the door, Emma. I must see you at once. - Hang on a minute. - Emma, is there a window I can just-- - Why, Mr. Hudson, I'm here all alone. - I have something to tell you. - I have a hair brush upstairs. - Something terrible has happened. - Leonard Bastard's wife has been murdered. - No, worse than that. - What could possibly be worse than that? - I am bankrupt. - Oh dear! - This afternoon the Hudson Rubber Company just collapsed. - Into the Thames? - Financially, you see. Someone in the Accounts Department was speculating huge sums against the future price of rubber and now I'm utterly ruined. - Oh, crikey! Maybe the young man who made these speculations was Leonard Bastard, the very man you begged me to employ. - Oh! Oops! - Well, oops doesn't quite hack it actually, Emma. So, because of this, I have decided to accept the job of a Butler in the West country. - Oh, well have a good one. - Yes, ta very much. - No, wait. I am an Englishwoman of a certain age. You are the only man who ever gave me an emotion. I am going to do something utterly improper. - Oh yes? - I am going to pack some hankies and come with you. - Darling Hall, doesn't it look great in the rain, Butler? - Uh, yes, my lord. - Butler, what time is it? 19:35, by the way. - Who is that woman in the giant black dress? - That is the housekeeper, Miss Schlegel, Sir. - Fine figure of a woman. - Yes, Sir, she does her job very well. - This weekend, I'm having a Nazi party, the usual thing, you know, uniforms, speeches, search lights, discipline, boots, bondage, Vodka, and tight leather trousers. - Very good, my lord. - This will be the first Nazi party ever held in England and here's the order of events. There'll be hi and hello, getting to know you cocktails, with a few introductory remarks about the Third Reich, what happened to the other two reich's and why this one will last, ever so much longer. - Very good, my lord. - Mr. Hudson, might I have a word with you? - Yes, of course, Miss Emma. - There is to be a Nazi party here? - Just a very small one. - And why have you been avoiding me? - Because I am a Butler and you are a housekeeper and in this country, any contact is not only immoral but it is also illegal contrary to the naughty behaviors Act with servants - But surely-- - No. - Not even if-- - No. - But suppose we were to-- - No. - On our own time-- - Impossible. - At weekends-- - No. - In the garage-- - Out of the question. This is England, we must have no more emotions. - But I have brought this hairbrush. - Shit. Come here, woman. Get on my springy thing. Come on. - What on earth is going on, Emma? - Aunt Maggie, Whoopsie, Helena and Dick. - What on earth are they doing, mommy, I'm scared. - Miss Emma was merely helping me clean the floor with her posterior. - No, Henry, no more lies, I'm a fully grown woman and I am entitled to an emotion now and again. - Good heavens, this isn't America. - What on earth is going on, Butler? Who are all these people? - Lord Darling, this is your long lost brother, Dick. - Hello, Bro. Want to see my mouth organ? - Good heavens, it's the Nazi's. - Hello, Darling. - Countess Von Kunst, welcome to Darling Hall. - It's important that you English understand when Nazi's have a party, it's a fun thing. Mein ber Butler? - Yes, Countess? - Do you have a piano? - No, Countess, no piano at Darling Hall. - Then what Is that? - Good heavens, that is a piano. - Good grief, it is the piano. - It is Lord Darling's, a gift from his dead daddy. - Deepak, is that you? - Hello, Mr. Hudson, long time no see. - What on earth are you doing here? - Well, I'm just talking to you at the moment. - Yes, I can see that, but why? - Because they think it's funny, Sir. - It is a bit confusing. - Yes, it is. - I would like to play a song about the fuhrer, but first I should warm up with the diva scale. Do Re Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi Mi What is that, what is wrong with this piano, it is like England, it doesn't work. There's something trapped inside it. - What is a vibrator doing inside a piano? - That's a rather long story. - Who are you? - A rather long story teller. - This is Inspector McGuffin. - Not in fact so, madam, I'm a private dick, my real name is Holmes. - Good heavens, Sherlock Holmes? - No, Shylock Holmes, his Jewish cousin. - Why is there a dildo shtook in this piano? - It was hidden there madam by someone in this room - What does it matter? - It matters because it reveals the identity of a murderer, Butler, I arrest you for the murder of Henry Hudson. - But this is Henry Hudson, Inspector. - No, Sir. - This man is called Hopkins, who killed the original Hudson to gain control of the rubber market. He attacked little Dicky in the woods and poisoned his wife for seeing him attack Dick from a window. And he bludgeoned poor Enid to death when she planned to reveal that she read his backside that he is the Houndsditch mutilator. Butler, I arrest you for the murder of Henry Hudson. - Oh, Henry, they will hang you. - I'm already hung, Emma. - I know that. I'm bearing your child. - Then leave this sorry island, England is finished, the future is Holland. - America? - Yeah, in America, yeah. Where they have more respect for a person of violence and they won't stop short of having automatic weapons just because they're insane. So the Butler was arrested and sentenced to be hanged by the neck until he wasn't at all well. Leonard Bastard married Helena and together they opened an umbrella shop. Reverend Whoopsie became the Arch Bishop of Canterbury. Aunt Maggie moved to Holland where she demonstrates personal vibrators. And as for me, the piano, I was bought by Elton John. And I'm currently starring in Las Vegas where I made this, one of Elton John's finest hits. O rum ti tumti Tickle yer monkey Tickle di didle doo Rumpy pumpy Humpty dumpty Tickle yer tivey too Oh hankie pankie Winkie wankie Diddle de didle doo Rinky dinky Tiddley winky Nicky nacky noo the noo the noo the noo the noo the noo O muckety buckety Shmackety crackety Sings the lonely trout Tiggly wiggly Higgly piggly What is life about Mickety pickety Wickety lickety She was just a slut Find yourself another lass A nicer piece of butt. Oh packety wackety Nickety nackety Sings the lonely trout Splickety wickety Pickety nickety What is life about? Shackety mackety Thwackety crackety She was just a slut Find yourself another lass A nicer piece of butt |
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