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Horses Mouth The

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- And good riddance to bad rubbish!
Mr. Jimson, it's me, N-Nosey.
- Don't you remember me? - No, I don't!
But you m-must, Mr. Jimson. You've only been inside a month.
I looked after all your things while you were in pri...
Jail. They broke all the windows, but I boarded them up.
The picture's all right, Mr. Jimson, except for some bullet holes.
Go away. Scram.
Tie lead weights to your feet, fireworks in your hair...
kiss your mother good-bye and jump in the river.
I don't know you. I don't want to know you.
Buzz off. Explode!
You're not w-well, Mr. Jimson.
I want to help you. Y-You're a genius.
Everyone says so.
You must let me help you and learn from you.
- You again? What now? - Officer, I'm being menaced by a dangerous youth.
He thinks I'm Michelangelo or Rembrandt or Van Gogh or Picasso.
I'd be safer inside. Take me back.
Take you back? Not in a thousand years.
I'll paint you a great wall, the most exciting and beautiful thing you've ever seen.
- Don't think the governor would approve. - Then lock up this dreadful youth.
You'd better go down to the police.
Now see what you've done. Got me locked out for life.
I am sorry, Mr. Jimson. I only want to help.
I want to see you a citizen, recognized by society.
Look, I've saved three and a tenner for you from my paper round.
Keep it.
No, Mr. Jimson! You mustn't! Not that again.
Uttering threats down the phone, that's what landed you in trouble before!
You mustn't do it. I shan't let you!
I've only popped in to press button "B."
Never miss an opportunity of pressing button "B."
Uh, do you really want to help me, Nosey?
- Course I do, Mr. Jimson. - Add one and fivepence to that and get me some cigarettes.
If I do, you promise you won't phone Mr. Hickson?
- I promise. - I n-never know when I can trust you.
You're a good boy, Nosey. You'll never be a great artist, but you're a good boy.
Get me some cigarettes.
Hey! Mr. Jimson!
- My bike! Bring it back. My bike! - Stop, thief!
- Stop, thief! - Stop, thief!
Stop, thief!
Stop. Thief!
Stop, thief!
No, no, no. It's all right.
He's... he's not a thief. He's a friend of mine.
You start yelling "Stop, thief" at innocent people...
- I never did. - And you'll find yourself in hot water.
Now, be off with you. And pull your socks up.
Don't hurry away. Stay to lunch.
That's a real foot. No one ever painted a foot like that before.
That's a leggy leg, all right.
If that leg could talk, it would say...
"I walk for you, I run for you.
I kneel for you. But I keep my self-respect."
That's it. That's where it went wrong.
A white eye. That's the feel of it.
Mr. Hickson's house.
- Hello? - May I speak to Mr. Hickson, please?
- Who shall I say? - The president of the Royal Academy.
Will you please hold the line, sir?
The telephone, sir. The president of the Royal Academy.
Hickson speaking.
This is the president of the Royal Academy.
- I understand you are in the position... - He's out again, Roberts.
Stand by the other phone. We may need the police.
- Hello, hello? Are you there? - Is that you, Jimson?
Oh, certainly not! I wouldn't touch the fellow with a dung fork.
But Mr. Jimson is destitute.
If Mr. Jimson is destitute, it's entirely his own fault.
And he will accept your personal check...
for 250.
I'm sure he would. But I don't owe him anything.
If this check's not in Mr. Jimson's hands by tomorrow morning...
he fully intends to burn your house down and cut your tripes out.
- Mr. Hickson's house. - This is the duchess of Blackpool.
I wish to speak to Mr. Hick!
One moment, Your Grace.
Who is it now?
- The duchess of Blackpool. Sir. - Get the police and trace the call.
I took the liberty of doing that on the previous call, sir.
- He'll be intercepted at any moment. - Yes?
This is Her Grace, the duchess of Blackpool.
Can you hear me?
- Very clearly, indeed. - Dear Mr. Hick.
I am chairwoman...
of the Gulley Jimson Mural Committee.
We have got to raise...
five thousand pounds...
to enable Mr. Jimson...
to carry out his three great projects...
for the nation: The Fall of Man...
The Raising of Lazarus...
and The LastJudgement.
- Mr. Jimson? - No. That's my first cousin, once removed.
An artist who's always getting into trouble with the police.
He just went up the road. Shall I call him back?
Have you just sent a telephone message of a threatening character...
to Mr. Hickson of Portland Place?
I only said I'd burn his house down and cut his liver out.
Now, look. He doesn't want to prosecute, but if you go on making a nuisance of yourself...
well, he's gonna have to take steps.
Would he rather I cut his liver out without phoning?
Now, come now, Mr. Jimson. Put yourself in his place.
I wish I could. It's a very nice place.
Just a minute.
Do it again, and you're for it.
That's better. A good bash and you get what you want out of life.
- That's been my experience. Now, what was it? - The usual.
They tried religion on me as soon as they saw what I was gonna look like.
They always try it on the flatfoot squaws, but I had my pride.
It's not fair of God to make a girl and give her a face like mine.
- No religion for Cokey. - I'm a Primitive meself, but I'm not one of the strict ones.
Now, my missus is a Peculiar. She is strict.
Wind shifted.
- Gone round to the east. - Any messages for me? Letters, parcels, invitations?
Proper nipping, that breeze. Red noses tomorrow.
So you're out. I thought it was Friday.
A nice fool you made of yourself, uttering menaces at your age.
I got in a state, Cokey. Half a mild.
I got thinking how I'd been done, and it made me mad.
You were lucky to get off with a month.
I rang him again this morning. Wanted to give him a little fright.
- I suppose you're proud. - Put it on the slate and lend me 50 quid.
- Don't be silly. - Make it 40, then. I've got to get back to work.
What about the four pounds, nine and six you owe me?
- I've not been in a position to earn it. - You never are.
My boy's in a good position. Ten pounds a week at the gas works.
Not like me daughter. She's deaf. Runs in the family.
Look, we'll do a deal. Lend me 32 bob, add on the price of the beer, and I owe you six quid.
- Not bloody likely. - I've got security.
- I've heard that before too. - Same again. Miss. Please.
- Cross me heart. Listen to this. - It's the girls that get it, not the boys.
- The boys have ears like water rats. - I'd rather be blind than deaf.
Not that I haven't had enough trouble with my earache.
"Dear GulleyJimson. You will excuse, I hope, my temerity in writing to you..."
- Well, read it yourself. - Who's it from?
A.W. Alabaster, secretary to Sir William Beeder, the millionaire.
Sir William wants to buy some of my early works. Go on, read it.
I'd rather be deaf, meself. I likes to see the world. You can do without talk.
- Shut up. - Shut up.
He's a millionaire, Cokey. You can trust him.
That letter's worth 15 bob. Come on. I've gotta get paints.
What are you gonna do about this?
I haven't time to do anything about it.
Sir William Beeder offers you 500 for one of your early pictures...
- and you haven't got time to do anything about it? - I haven't got the pictures.
- When Sal left me, she took them with her. - Where?
- To my old friend, Hickson. - She ought to be hung on hooks.
? Billy boy Where have you been all the day, my Billy boy?
You and me's gonna pay a little call on Mrs. Jimson.
- She's Mrs. Monday now, Cokey. - Whatever she calls herself, she's not gonna make a fool...
out of you, and she's not gonna make a fool out of me.
I want my four pounds, nine and six, and we'll go tomorrow morning.
- You can keep the rest of the 500. - Suits me.
- Can you let me have five bob on account?
- Disgusting. I call it. - How did you get in?
Through the hatch. It's disgusting what they've done. They've ruined it!
I can patch it. It's the little air-gun holes that are the nuisance.
They've written names all over Eve. Mr. Jimson.
Mr. Jimson's just gone out. He saw you coming.
I brought you some coffee and sausage rolls.
- Don't they ever give you any homework? - It's the holidays.
If you want to get that scholarship and go to Oxford...
and get into the civil service and be a great man...
and have 2,000 a year...
and a nice wife and a kid with real eyes that open and shut, go home and work.
It's nice and hot. There's sugar in it.
Mr. Jimson won't be back for some time. I'll drink it for him.
Now go home!
I want to be an artist. I want you to help me.
Of course you want to be an artist! Everybody does once.
- But they get over it, like measles and chicken pox. - But there have to be artists!
And lunatics too! But why go and live in an asylum before you're sent for?
I d-don't want to bother you, Mr. Jimson.
But I don't know any other real artists.
I'll tell you a secret. Jimson never was an artist.
You know what the critics said about him in the 1920s?
They said he was a nasty young man who tried to advertise himself...
by painting and drawing like a child of six, and since then he's got worse.
- But they always say that, don't they? - Sometimes they're right.
Now, Jimson's papa was a real artist.
He painted noses in the right place.
He got into the Academy. He worked 16 hours a day for 50 years...
and died a pauper.
But he went on painting.
You're mad! You're daft! You're out of your mind!
Get out of here, quick!
Go and do something sensible, like shooting yourself!
But don't be an artist!
Skipper's aboard.
Let go, forward! Let go, aft!
No hawkers! No circulars!
Beware of the dog.
- A fine old mess. - I tried putting in little white fish, but that wouldn't work.
- You ready? - For what?
That ex-wife of yours.
- I'm busy. - You put that down and come with me.
Tomorrow, Cokey.
Some other time.
Well, look at Adam's old knob of a shoulder. Like a lump of meat.
Call that a man. I call it a dwarf.
What'd you do it with... egg? It's gotta be today.
I got the morning off on purpose. Get your hat on.
Sarah Monday, Hickson, Beeder. And my four pounds, fourteen and six.
I admire you, Cokey.
- Obstinate as a mule, aren't you? - Yes.
So's Sarah Monday.
Where did you pick her up? Is there a place for these models...
or did you pick her up off the street?
Oh, she wasn't a model, and I didn't pick her up.
- She was a married woman, and she picked me up. - Disgusting.
Oh, a regular man-eater, Sarah, when I first knew her.
Just getting up in the 30s, and full blast on all cylinders.
Don't tell me about her! I can see her. Which house is it?
Search me. But I bet you five bob it's the one with the brightest polished doorknob.
- Dicky? - Great Scott.
- Dicky? - It's the old dreadnought herself.
Why, it's not you, Gulley?
- No, I'm Mr. Foster from Gloucester. - Well, isn't that nice.
You haven't seen a little boy with a ginger moustache coming along the street?
- You might have heard him cough. - Excuse me, Mrs. Monday.
I'm Miss D. Coker, a friend of Mr. Jimson's.
We want a few words with you, and not in the street, if you please.
Certainly, Miss D. Coker. Please come inside.
Excuse things as they are, but I wasn't expecting visitors so early.
And I never expected to see you, Gulley. Gave me quite a turn.
Do sit down. Excuse me.
- Dicky? - I don't want any tricks from you.
Excuse me being so rude, but I'm so worried about my little boy.
My husband's little boy, I should say.
We came on business. We'll stick to that, if you don't mind.
That's right. I'll just see how the kettle is.
Don't sit down, Mr. Jimson.
If you sit down in her house, it'll all come out against us in court. I know her sort.
You don't know Sarah, Cokey.
She's got better tricks than that.
Oh. Dear. I get so short of breath since I had flu.
Excuse me leaving you like that, Miss Coker.
Kettle won't be a moment. Then we can have some tea. Do sit down.
We've come about the pictures painted by Mr. Jimson here that you sold to Mr. Hickson.
- That's right, Miss Coker. - Well, I don't call it right. I call it robbery.
That's right. Why, Gulley. It's a real pleasure.
Mr. Hickson said the pictures weren't properly finished...
and we owed a lot of money all round.
Then Mr. Jimson left me. And I didn't know when he was coming back.
And. Of course. When Mr. Hickson said he'd pay all the debts...
I was in such a whirl I didn't know how to say no.
And you didn't think my pictures worth tuppence anyway.
Oh, yes, Gulley. I always thought you were a lovely artist.
It's just like old times. How well you look!
Oh, come off it, Sal. We're both tottering into the grave.
Oh, you may well say that of me, Gulley. But he doesn't look a day older.
What a pity my husband's on duty this morning. He would like to have seen you.
You old fool!
Why don't you stand up to her? She's twisting you around her little finger!
Not me. I know her game.
Not but what you can't get right down in the dirt if you want.
But I don't care. As long as I get the evidence she stole those pictures...
- and I get my fourpence, fourteen and six.
Excuse me, Miss Coker, offering you cake with a slice out.
But little Dicky keeps pestering me, poor mite.
And he's got such a bad cough, I just gave him a piece.
- You keep off the subject of Mr. Jimson's pictures. - That's right.
Will you sign a paper to say Mr. Jimson didn't ought to have been swindled?
That's right. Oh, dear. No sugar.
I can't get over seeing you again.
Dicky! Dicky!
Excuse me, Miss Coker.
I could've sworn I heard Dicky cough just now.
How are the paintings going, Gulley... nicely?
- How are your poor legs? - Bent.
How are you really, Sal? I can see Mr. What's-his-name... present owner... Monday...
takes good care of valuable property.
As we came on business, perhaps we'd better get on with it.
There were 19 canvasses and 300 drawings.
- No. There were only 18. - Where's the other one?
I don't know. I never could find it. It must've got lost.
It wasn't the one you liked so much? Of yourself on the bed?
You were always taking a peep at it, admiring yourself in your skin.
Well, I must say I never had any trouble with my skin, like some people. Aaah!
Oh. Thought I was bitten.
Excuse me. You'll never know the trouble we have keeping them out of the furniture.
Sign here, Mrs. Monday. We've wasted enough time.
Oh, you brought a pen. How thoughtful of you.
I was worried about not having a proper pen.
- You're signing for 19 pictures and you only gave Hickson 18. - That's right.
You don't care what you sign. You've always got something up your sleeve.
- That's right. - Thank you, Mrs. Monday. That's all we require.
- Come on, Mr. Jimson. We're off to Mr. Hickson. - Hickson?
Oh, no, not this morning. I've had enough. I'm not interested.
Maybe you're not, but I am. And you've got that millionaire to see.
Oh, there you are! This is Dicky.
Where have you been, you bad boy? Say how do you do.
- This is Mr. Jimson. He's an artist. - Since when?
- You've never seen a real artist before, have you?
You've got the right idea, son. Why don't you bite me?
That's the way to treat strangers. Make them respect you.
- Are you coming, or are you not? - No, I'm not.
You'll get a crack from me if you don't.
I hope she looks after you properly, Gulley.
She? She doesn't look after me.
- I'm me own man. - Are you comin', or am I goin'?
Good-bye, Gulley. You look so young, l...
I can't get over it.
Well, if I said I was surprised at you, Mr. Jimson, it wouldn't be true.
I've seen too many dirty old men, and some of them didn't know better!
- But pinching! - It was only a howdy-do... with an old acquaintance.
- You're my steady. - Not me!
I'm nobody's steady but my own.
Miss D. Coker, Mr. G. Jimson, to see Mr. Hickson on business.
I will inquire if Mr. Hickson is at home.
If you'll please come this way.
I should've phoned to see if he was in.
Hickson doesn't put much faith in the telephone.
Wait here, please.
- Who was that? - Hickson's man. Always in a dark suit.
- Well, how could I tell he wasn't a gentleman? - You're not meant to, first time.
- Look at this. - I pity the poor girl that's gotta dust this lot.
Chunky work, but look at the detail.
Nice place. Nice stuff.
Keeps it nice too.
Come here, Cokey.
Where's your Rubens now, or your Renoir?
- Who did it? - I did.
- It's not that Sarah. - What's it matter who it is?
How could she show herself like that? Such a lump too. It's disgraceful.
It's a work of genius, Cokey. It's worth 50,000.
It's worth anything you like...
because it's unique.
And Hicky's clever enough to know it.
Oh, now this old stuff s worn to shreds. It wants a nice bit of chintz on that.
- Look at my picture, Cokey. - I saw it once.
- You didn't think about it. - I know if it was a postcard...
and some poor chap tried to sell it, he'd get 14 days.
You're missing a big slice of life, Cokey.
Half a minute of revelation is worth a million years of know nothing.
Who lives a million years?
A million people every 12 months.
I'll show you how to look at a picture.
Don't look at it. Feel it with your eyes.
First feel the shapes in the flat.
Like patterns.
Then feel it in the round.
Feel all the smooth and sharp edges.
The lights and the shades.
The cools and the warms.
Ah, the jugs look real. I'll give you that.
Now feel the chair...
the bathtub...
the woman.
Not any old tub or woman...
but the tub of tubs...
and woman of women.
I suppose there's some sense in it. Oh, I know you're clever.
Do you think I'd have any patience if you weren't?
I'd shove you in the first dustbin.
- I'm trying to teach you something! - What?
- A great happiness. - Looking at a big fat tottie in a bath?
Do you think I'm a dirty old man?
Jimson, I don't know what you've come for, but if you and this lady intend to make trouble...
Oh, no, Coker's very law-abiding.
She has an artistic way of expressing herself, that's all.
- Uh, Miss Coker, Mr. Hickson. - Pleased to meet you, sir.
- Mr. Hickson, this morning, me and... - Please sit down.
Well, this morning, me and Mr. Jimson...
called at the house of Mrs. Jimson that was...
- and now calls herself Mrs. Monday. - Miss Coker.
Jimson owed me a large sum of money. Some 400.
Mrs. Jimson offered me 18 canvasses in settlement of this debt. I accepted her offer.
Oh, as I understand it, there were 19.
Mrs. Jimson... Oh, I beg her pardon, Mrs. Monday...
kept one for herself for sentimental reasons.
- Did you hear that, Mr. Jimson? - I heard.
Now you had 18 pictures for 400.
And that one's worth 50,000 by itself.
Hardly. Perhaps someday.
All I can say is that I wouldn't take 5,000 for it.
Well. It's barefaced robbery! Mr. Jimson. Where are you?
- Improving myself. Appreciating the rare and the beautiful. - Come here at once.
Madam. I don't even quite understand the position.
In all, Jimson has had some 3,000 from me.
Apart from various loans, I have given him two pounds a week...
without any obligation whatever...
for some considerable time.
You old fraud.
3,000 pounds! And you said he'd robbed you.
That's what you said, Cokey. What I said was that he got my pictures cheap.
You been telling a lot of lies and borrowing money under false pretenses.
Please, please. Don't let's have any argument.
I'm quite prepared to resume Jimson's allowance...
provided that he promises not to ring me up.
I'm an old man, Jimson, and I don't very much mind if you murder me.
But I cannot stand all this telephoning.
- It upsets the servants, and they give notice. - I hadn't thought of that.
I must have servants. I'm used to them, and I can afford to pay for them.
And they probably wouldn't mind working here if it wasn't for you.
May I have a word with you, sir, in private?
- It's rather urgent. - Certainly, Roberts.
Excuse me a moment.
- What's going on? - It's a conference between master and man.
They're deciding who does the work.
He's telephoning.
Have you been up to anything in there?
What have you got in your pockets? I thought you looked a bit bulgy.
You'll go to chokey for years this time, and I won't be sorry!
Come out with them, quick.
Why all the fuss?
Hicky doesn't appreciate the stuff anyway.
Don't be silly. That butler's onto it already.
What's this?
I've seen her before. Oh, I'll give you a good big punch for this!
I'm not gonna be seen with a thief!
It's the police he's on to.
- I don't believe that. - It's the police, I tell you!
- Do you hear anything? - Shh, sir.
I can't hear a thing.
Well, I can. It's the police car.
Oh! That treacherous old crocodile!
Oh, no, no! No, no, no!
Up here, boys!
They're starving an artist to death!
No, no, no!
The police, Roberts. Let them in!
I don't see why they have to break the window.
- Oh! - Oh, murder! Murder!
The kitchen. Roberts! The kitchen.
Down the passage.
And I'm giving a month's notice!
Good morning. I'm the gas man, and this is my daughter, Gladys.
Oh, I wasn't expecting you. The meter's in the pantry.
I say, you two. This taxi's taken.
I'm Dr. A.W. Alabaster, in a hurry...
taking this lady to St. George's Hospital.
I'm not going through with it, Mr. Jimson! There's nothing the matter with me.
Pay no attention, gentlemen. She's a little overwrought.
- Hey, driver! - Don't fool with the man at the wheel.
If you have been up to any hanky-panky, we'll call the police.
She's not a girl for hanky-panky, I assure you...
and the police know all about us.
- Don't they, Gladys? - Oh, I've had enough.
Here's your letter. You go and see your millionaire on your own.
And don't forget the money you owe me, and send it registered.
I don't want to see you again, ever.
Shock treatment, that's what she wants.
Oh, excuse me.
"Sir William and Lady Beeder. Chatfield Court."
Thank you. Oh, we've passed it!
And every space as small as a globule of man's blood...
such as this we now occupy...
opens into eternity.
I quote from old man Blake.
Are you sure Sir William and Lady Beeder are expecting you?
Expecting me? They're down on their knees praying for me.
Top floor.
6- B, on the left.
What are you waiting for? Think I'm gonna walk off with the door?
I beg your pardon. I thought I heard the bell.
- Uh, are you the butler here? - Hardly. I'm Sir William Beeder's secretary.
- What can I do for you? Are you lost? - No.
Now, don't tell me. I'm psychic.
You are A.W. Alabaster, and the very man I want.
- You have the advantage of me. - I'm GulleyJimson, the world-renowned painter.
Mr. Jimson, forgive me! I should have recognized you. Yes, I'm Alabaster. Do come in.
It's all right, Hodges.
You understand we do have to be a little careful.
Let me take your hat.
What is it, Mr. Jimson?
- Are you unwell? - That wall!
It's rather bare. I'm afraid. Lady Beeder has just had a tapestry removed for renovation.
That's the wall I want! I've dreamt of a wall like that.
I see it. I see it.
The Raising of Lazarus!
Ayellow pair of feet, long and stringy.
A black pair, huge and strong.
A child's feet, pink, with nails like polished coral.
An old pair with knobbly toes, curled into the dust.
- I'm afraid Lady Beeder... - Oh, Lady Beeder, down in this corner...
in the nude, laughing with pleasure.
- Sir William... - Sir William down there. Dead drunk. Asleep.
Unaware of the miracle that's taking place.
Sir William and Lady Beeder are out. They'll be back shortly.
- It would be great, Alabaster. - Of course, Mr. Jimson.
Let me get you some tea. The servants are down in Dorset.
Or perhaps you'd prefer something stronger?
- Brandy. - It's lucky, your dropping in like this today.
The Beeders leave forJamaica tomorrow morning, and I go with them.
Six weeks of sunshine. I take it you have a picture for them. They'll be delighted.
- How much will they pay for this delight? - Well, that depends, of course.
In your letter you said they'd pay handsomely.
I'm sure they will, for the right picture.
Something similar, perhaps, to the woman in the bath. They've always admired it.
- Friends of Hickson's, are they? - They dine together almost every week.
The world is too small, Professor.
But I know where I can find another picture of mine of Sal... uh, the lady in the bath.
- Sir William will be thrilled. - I'll only ask 7,000 for it.
Well, they're great patrons of the arts, but they might think that a bit steep.
Millionaires, aren't they? If they want culture, they pay.
My dear Mr. Jimson, Sir William and Lady Flora are most cultured people.
Oh, I bet they are! Who are the most enlightened people in the world? The rich.
I love millionaires.
Seven thousand is my price. But I'll tell you what.
I'll paint this wall and throw it in free, gratis and for nothing.
- A raising of Lazarus that'll make your hair stand on end.
Thank goodness that's that. We've done our last-minute shopping. And we're dead.
Good afternoon.
Lady Beeder, this is Mr. GulleyJimson.
You remember you instructed me to write about a painting. He's just called.
- How do you do? - Enchante.
- Sir William, Mr. Jimson. - How do you do!
We are most honored, Mr. Jimson, I assure you.
Your Ladyship, I saw you in the nude...
squatting down by that wall, laughing merrily.
But now I see you clothed, rather foolishly...
clasping a cornucopia, from which you're distributing useless gifts to the poor.
Mr. Jimson's been telling me of his unusual ideas for a wall painting.
- That wall. - Oh, yes. Well, it was a picture we wanted from you.
Something quite small that we could hang in our country house.
- You shall have both. - I'm sure that might be delightful...
but you see, we are just off for our winter holiday, flying tomorrow morning...
and I really don't think we can come to any decision before we are back.
- Mr. Jimson has a picture. - Oh, how exciting!
I see you have finished your drink. Arnold, the glass.
- Yes! We could see it, no doubt, on our return. - I'm not sure about that.
The Archbishop of Canterbury is most anxious to have it.
Ah, Lady Beeder... Lady Flora...
I think you and Sir William... Sir Willy... Sir Bob...
- Are two of the nicest people I've ever met...
and I shan't hesitate to diddle the archbishop.
- You shall have the picture. - I think we'd better leave details until much later.
I think that's simply enchanting of you. We're very fond of artists, you know.
My wife does a little painting herself!
William, you shouldn't say such a thing in front of a professional artist.
Nonsense, my dear. I'm sureJimson would love to see your stuff.
- He may give you a few tips. - A touch more of the three star, Professor.
Don't you think it would be better to wait for a proper session when there's time?
Of course. We have no right to impose on Mr. Jimson.
- Arnold, get Lady Flora's portfolio. - Poor Mr. Jimson.
You'll be quite dreadfully bored, I fear.
William, I think I need a little fortification.
- Good idea. I think I'll have one too. How about you? - Ah, thank you.
Everything about you, Lady B., gives me confidence.
I know I'm going to like your pictures.
Amateurs, uh,
Do much the most interesting work.
Lovely. Only wants a title.
- I think the sky is not too bad. - Charmant.
Oh, I'm so glad you like it.
Of course, the sky is just a little bit chancy.
Just a little bit accidental.
Like when the cat spills its breakfast.
- I think I see what you mean. - Well, you get skies like that in Dorset.
This artificial light's rather misleading.
A typical Dorset sky, that's my point. Pure accident.
And just look at the wriggle of the mast on the water.
- That's technique. - My wife has made a special study of watercolor technique.
- Oh, William, you'll have Mr. Jimson laughing at me.
All you've got to do now, having mastered this technique, is to forget it...
kick your heels and blow it through the keyhole.
I do see what you mean. You mean that mere cleverness can be dangerous.
The kiss of death. Oh, this is very clever and pretty, pretty.
But is it worth it? Ask yourself. Use your loaf. Do some thinking.
But don't you think... Of course I'm not a professional.
- A good thing too, my dear. - Don't you think the intellectual approach can be dangerous too?
Ah, listen to them, Alabaster!
The poor dears. The poor so-and-sos.
What do you think I've been doing all my life...
playing tiddlywinks with Freddy's color box?
More brandy, Professor. And help yourselves. Let's get stinking.
I'll tell you something straight from the horse's mouth.
You have to know when you succeed and when you fail...
and why.
Know thyself, in fact.
In short, you have to think.
Yes, we're all very privileged, I'm sure...
- How about your packing? - Good idea!
Packing! You talk of packing at a time like this?
- When we are getting down to fundamentals?
Fundamentals. Now you're talking.
You should meet Mrs. Morton Grainge Waring. She's always down to fundamentals.
She has the flat immediately below us.
Then call her up! Let's have a party!
- That is impossible. - She's gone toJava to study the dance!
I have news for you.
- I'm gonna be just a little bit ill. - Arnold, the bathroom!
No, no, no, no. I'm just going to sleep here.
- I fear you can't do that. - I'll drive you home, Mr. Jimson.
My London house is shut up for the winter.
And my aunt has gone to Sing Sing...
to study the electric chair.
- I shall sleep here. - But there are only two beds... ours and Arnold's.
Lovely! Will, Bob, Bobby, will sleep with Al...
and I will turn in with you.
I'm 50-odd. Well. Call it 60-odd.
No, no. Come here, come here.
So it's unlikely you'll be, um, inconvenienced.
Oh! Oh, heavens!
William. What a situation! What are you going to do?
W- W-Well, we'll push him out in the passage, and Alabaster can get Hodges to drive him home.
Oh, William, that's out of the question. Poor Mr. Jimson, he's ill!
We really must look after him. We'll put him to bed in your room, Arnold.
Oh, really, Flora!
And you can spend the night on the sofa.
- Good morning. - Good mornin'.
- Beeders gone? - Hours ago.
- Didn't they tell you I was here? - They left a message.
- What time is it? - Past 11:00.
- You going now? - I am.
- For how long? - Six weeks.
Better leave me the key.
Message says, "Give key to porter."
Oh, Lady Flora was forgetting that I shall need the key.
I'll give it to the porter when I've finished.
- That's not what the message says. - I assure you...
Sir Bob and Lady Flo would be most upset if they thought you'd left me without the key.
There's the wall to paint.
I can't see it needs paintin'.
- What are your feet like? - Why?
If they're really old, trampled feet, as I suspect, I'd like to draw them.
Draw your own feet!
Old women's feet... thin. Flat. Long...
clinging to the ground like reptiles.
Good morning. Any mail this morning?
No. Beg your pardon. If you're leaving, could I have the key to Sir William's apartment?
- Mrs. Brace... - Mrs. Brace has fled. Her feet had wings.
- She left the key with me. - I know that.
I shall be needing the key. I shall be staying here some time. I like the air.
Oh, incidentally, my name is Jimson. Sir GulleyJimson.
- Oh, I see, sir. - O.M.
- Oh, well, of course that's different. - It certainly is different.
- Yes, sir. - If any friends call, send them up.
- Very well, sir. - Just slipping out for some charcoal.
Twenty-eight pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence.
- Thank you. Very fair prices for this time of the year. - Thank you, sir.
- Uh, may I? - Certainly, sir.
- It's a pleasure to handle merchandise like this. - Oh, it is, isn't it?
One mural. Raising of Lazarus, plus Sarah on Bed, 7.000.
Advance: Twenty-eight pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence.
Balance owing: 6,971...
seven shillings and sixpence.
A face from the distant past.
One must be businesslike when dealing with millionaires.
- I don't have much experience in that line, sir. - Oh, you will have.
What are you trying to say. Nosey? Oh.
You still want to be a painter?
My, uh, better self follows me like a whipped dog.
You want to work for me?
Make tea.
It's the kind of face you want to throw a brick at, don't you think?
- Would you mind? - Sir, sir! You're joking.
Au revoir.
Hasta la vista.
Y- You won't get rid of me by shouting, Mr. Jimson.
Miss Coker told me where to look for you, and now I've found you.
- You really wanted to be useful, Nosey? - That's right.
Then get me a tiger.
"Tiger. Tiger. Burning bright. In the forests of the night.
What immortal hand or eye...
could frame thy fearful symmetry?"
Not mine!
"Did he smile, his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?"
We should have got something live... from the zoo.
I like it, Mr. Jimson.
You like meringues, cream puffs and candy floss.
I'm sorry. I should have learned it's easy to offend the faith of the little ones.
You don't offend me, Mr. Jimson.
But perhaps I'm not such a little one as you imagine.
I've got eyes in my head, and I like your tiger.
The trouble with you is you're an enthusiast, like my dad.
He'd start painting a picture of a girl on a swing and go right on...
to the shine on the rose thorn and the pollen in the lily...
and then lacquer it.
Me, I like starting...
but I don't like going on.
For me, the tiger's dead...
and the rest is a blank.
What do you see in the blank, Mr. Jimson?
A kind of colored music in the mind.
A glass-green Lazarus...
stiff as an iceman.
"My mother bore me in the southern wild, and I am black..."
How does it go on? Where's your education?
"When I from black and he from white cloud free."
Freedom, that's it.
Freedom from paint brushes...
from fear of yourself.
Freedom to do or not to do, or...
Freedom to come and go...
as you please.
Black, white...
yellow, black.
But SirJimson, sir, he said he wanted to see me.
- How do I know that? - That's what SirJimson said, sir.
All right. Go on. Use the stairs, top floor, 6-B.
SirJimson said I wasn't to walk, sir. I'm not to tire my feet.
Come on, then.
- How did you get such feet? - What kind of feet, sir?
- Cheeky feet. - I don't know, sir.
- What do you do for a living? - I'm a waiter, sir.
- Ah, so that's it. - I don't know what you mean. Sir.
- Salut. - Yonho.
Yassou. Ueggisheg.
- Kampai. - Van dios.
Skoal. You know what would happen if you took off all the waiters' boots?
- No, sir. - Their feet would make such rude remarks...
- the customers wouldn't be able to enjoy their dinners.
Just as you say, sir.
I could only get 18 bob for the teapot, Mr. Jimson.
You've been robbed! It was a Sevres. That fellow at the pawn shop's diddling you.
So I got some turps and the yellow o-ochre and flake white.
Two tubes each. That leaves ninepence.
Young man, I drink to your gloomy future.
We can no longer afford tea and sugar.
We are reduced to what was known in my youth as "bubbly."
Do you want to sign the account book now, Mr. Jimson?
You're my auditor, Nosey. The financial situation is your concern.
Well, Umslobagas, it looks as if I shall have to do you in white.
You've been wearing shoes.
Your feet are like something out of a medical museum.
Everyone wears shoes, Mr. Jimson. I can't help it.
Do you want me to answer the door?
What door?
The bell's ringing, Mr. Jimson.
If you move your feet, I'll chop them off.
- Umho. - Hai.
Oh, no! Not you! Remove yourself, Bisson!
I heard you'd struck it rich, Jimson. You should've told me.
No sculptors for me, thank you. All bash and no brain.
Go down any coal mine. Take your chisel and dig yourself a hole.
Ah, Jimson, that's no way to talk.
We're old friends. Share and share alike. That's our motto.
- That's your motto. - Remember the boots I gave you.
- They were your father's! - What's all this nonsense?
- Papering the wall? - No, you dog's biscuit!
- I'm painting a picture! - Ah, looks like a lot of feet to me.
What a crackpot idea. They'll be putting you away soon. Who are you?
- I'm Lolie. - Well, get down.
No, you don't, Bisson. That's mine.
Stick out your arm and pull in your wind a bit.
Ah, you'll do.
Look out, Bisson! You're about to die.
That's fine, just about here. You won't be in my way.
Ah, she'll come through here very pretty.
Get out! You humbugging rock hacker!
You're not bringing any of your monumental masonry in here!
It's a commission, Jimson!
Real money. Big stuff.
Take her steady, now!
- Lower three feet. - Lower three feet!
- Hold it! - Hold it!
You miserable chop-and-chance-it!
What do you think you're playing at?
Get that rock out of here!
Shut up, Jimson. This is tricky.
It's all right. The porter's in the Red Lion. We're quite safe.
- Come on, give me those rollers. - Bisson, I'm sending for the police.
Jimson, will you stop larking about!
This is a serious matter!
It's a commission from British Railways!
Let me go, you lout. Let go!
Let go!
Anyone at home?
Mrs. Morton Grainge Waring?
She's gone toJava.
That's all right. I'll work down there.
Come. I want to get started.
The light's not so good, but it'll do.
Everything all right, sir? I heard a bump.
Must've been an explosion at the gas works.
It gave me a terrible shock, sir. The old ticker's not too good.
Oh, I'm sorry. I wouldn't bother to come up this far in future.
Pull her up. Mate!
You down there! I'll only charge you a pound a week for Mrs. Whatnot's flat.
You hear me?
And for another 15 bob, my houseboy will do a little light dusting.
Lovely h-hot stew, Miss Lolie.
I've got cramp. I can't put my hand to my mouth.
Better try, all the same.
Aw, buzz off.
Lovely l-Irish stew, Mr. Jimson.
He hasn't e-eaten for two days.
- He won't even speak. - Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Who cares if the old fool dies of starvation?
He's thinking.
You're chilly. Better eat.
- Can't. - Let me help you.
Open. Open wide.
That's a good girl.
I hear a voice crying in the wilderness.
I'd like your advice. Just come here a moment. Will ya?
Just look at this. Will ya? Won't you come down?
I'd rather not.
I want to know... what does it say to you?
It says to me...
"I'm getting smaller and smaller every day."
Well, it is smaller, of course, but bigger too, in a sense.
- Don't you think? - Tell him it's wonderful. Gulley.
Tell him it's not ruined. I've been in this position for six weeks.
If he keeps me here much longer, I'll be stuck like this for life.
That's a very selfish thing to say, Lolie. You're quite comfortable.
I'm numb.
Doesn't it say to you Mother Earth surrounded by her dead?
It may say that someday. But not yet.
Forgive me, Bisson. I'm not in a receptive mood.
I've problems of my own. I'd be grateful if you'd come up here a moment.
Oh, I could do with a stretch.
If I had a stretch, I'd snap.
Quiet, Lolie. Rest yourself.
Oh, it's getting bigger and bigger, in a sense.
- What do you mean, "in a sense"? - Well, it's all filled in.
- Any fool can see that. - Frankly, I don't like it.
I asked you up here as a friend. I didn't ask for your pea-brained opinion.
- Too many feet. I'm telling you, Jimson, for your own good! - I don't want to hear it!
- Too many feet! - Get out! Get down! Submerge, before I chop your eyes out!
It's a crackpot painting, that's what it is!
Stay down where you belong!
"Earth and her dead."
Chop off its extremities, it'll do for a guided missile... a misguided missile!
Drunken old idiot! You'll be in Broadmoor before you know when.
He's mad!
And he's dangerous.
- Take a week's notice. - We're going now!
Drunken. Insane old fool with the conceit of a devil!
Mean, mean, mean, arrogant, complacent, filthy old phony!
He's right.
A crackpot painting.
Not what I meant.
Not the vision I had.
Why doesn't it fit...
Like it does in the mind?
Thank you. That's fine.
- Well. I must say. It's good to be coming home.
- William, we've come to the wrong flat. - Hmm?
- Oh. No. No. 6-B. This is us. This is us. - No, but it isn't it.
- Great Scott! - William, the wall.
I can see it, my dear.
- Sir William, you're sinking! Come back!
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!
- It's the monsoon! - Oh, shut up.
Go away!
Go away. I tell you. He's not here.
But he is here, Coker. Home is the sailor...
home from the sea, and the hunter home from the hills.
- I'm not speaking to you. - Well, I'm coming in out of the rain.
- Aah, it's as wet inside as it is out. - What are you doing here?
I've told you once, I'm not speaking to you. Why don't you listen?
I am listening, Cokey. What are you doing in my studio?
- Living here, that's what! - You're welcome. Why?
Because I've got nowhere else to live. Because you got my name in the paper.
Because I was a mug and trusted you. Because I lost my job. Is that enough?
Why, it's a little bourgeois bungalow you've made of it.
It's clean, that's all. But it doesn't float.
When the tide comes up it comes in. Where have you been all these weeks?
With my millionaire friends. They came back today, so I moved out.
I bet you're on the run again. Well, this is no place for you, let me tell you.
The police are after you. Quite a nice little account they have to settle.
No one saw me come here.
I'll stay a bit. Where's my picture?
Facing the wall.
It's better like that.
Here, you'll catch your death of cold. Get out of those things.
- I've nothing else to wear. - Take 'em off and get into bed.
Come on. Don't stand there shivering. Do as you're told.
- And don't get the wrong idea. - At my age?
I wouldn't put it past you.
Come on.
Well, don't be so modest.
All right. I won't look.
Oh, I've never known anyone as bumptious as you be so modest.
You ought to be in the workhouse.
Can't put me in the workhouse. I'm a houseboat holder. Have my socks dried. Will you?
And my trous.
Heaven help us.
- What's this? - My vest and pants.
You can look now. I'm decent.
I'll sleep on the floor, if you like. I'm used to it.
That's all talk. You ought to be in the circus with that muck on your face.
Just hark at that cough of yours!
Oh, I've been harking to it for 30 years.
Thirty years or more.
I'll tell you how I started, if you like. I worked in an office.
Oh, very respectable and clerk-like, I was.
Then one day I saw a painting by Matisse, a reproduction.
I saw it because some of the chaps were laughing at it and called me over.
It gave me the shock of my life.
It skinned my eyes for me...
and I became a different man.
Like a conversion...
I saw a new world...
the world of color.
- Are you listening? - No.
What are you doing?
I'm saying my prayers. I forgot them.
I thought you hated God.
- Maybe I do. - Why do you pray then?
Well, he's our Father, isn't he?
That's a funny reason.
I've got things to be thankful for, haven't I?
Earache all my life, face like an accident.
Kicked all around the place by my auntie and uncle when I was a girl.
But I got both legs the same length, and I don't squint.
It's a sort of miracle.
That's something to be grateful for, isn't it?
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
But I'm not going to be grateful if you kick the bucket in my bed.
- Who did you pray for? - Me.
Who else?
All sorts.
- Me? - You mind your own business.
- Sarah Monday? - Not likely.
- Hickson? - Why should I pray for him? He's dead.
- What? - Dead. Stiff. Didn't you know?
I reckon you polished him off. Poor old turkey.
You don't say much. Do you?
Your poor old friend popping off like that.
Well. You don't have to worry anymore.
It's all right about your pictures.
I read in the paper he's given them to the nation.
I suppose you'd rather have the cash.
Oh, Gulley, please forgive me calling out like that.
You with all your admirers and me drawing attention to myself.
- It shames me. - Nothing ever shamed you, Sal.
It makes me blush, I tell you, to think of all these people going in...
- to see me naked in a bath. - You're going with them, I notice.
I couldn't resist another peep. Not that it's your best. Oh, it's a picture, all right.
They all are... wonderful pictures, even if they're not what you'd call pretty.
- You've been to this exhibition before. - Twice last week.
I couldn't get in the week before. Mr. Monday had a bronchial attack.
- It's his chest, you know. - Oh, get on, get on.
Sal, the picture of you in the bath...
Oh, it's not as good as mine, the one you did of me in the bed.
- Oh, Gulley. - I knew you had it!
- That's right. - Now you can see your picture every day in the gallery...
- you won't need yours, will you, Sal? - I don't know. I'm not sure.
Where do you keep it... in your old tin trunk?
Thank you. That makes things very much easier.
- In your old tin trunk? - I'm too upset to talk.
Seeing you suddenly like that put me in mind of the old days when we were young.
- They drive you at such a speed to your grave these days. - What's it matter?
It's not natural, Gulley. There I see that picture you painted...
me as I was 20 years ago... then we pass a funeral.
- It's unlucky, Gulley. It's my unlucky day. - Let's have a drink on it.
- To tell you the truth, it's just what I want. - Can you pay?
I can manage, Gulley.
It'll mean kippers for Mr. Monday tonight instead of a nice pork chop.
You may laugh, Gulley, but ever since I was a chit of a girl...
I've always dreamt of a real posh funeral.
I don't want to be taken through the streets quickly like...
the blinds drawn and no flowers.
Take me home and give me the picture, and there'll be enough for six funerals.
If I can throw in your portrait, the Beeders'll stump up 7,000.
You and I can go 50-50.
Mm, I just want enough for a nice funeral and a proper stone.
You let me have the picture, and when the time comes...
you can buy yourself an oak coffin...
and a stone six foot high.
Oh, Gulley, God bless you.
You don't throw a woman's weakness in her face.
You know how God made us.
That's the funny thing about you...
you know about women.
When it comes to a wife, give me a woman every time.
Pity we broke it up, Sal.
- Same again? - Do you think we ought?
Sss, sss!
? The king, he said to me You are a marvel?
? At singing you have really got the knack?
? Then from his tie he took a diamond scarf pin?
? He smiled at me and then?
? He put it back?
? La de da de de?
? La de da de de?
? Then from his tie he took a diamond scarf pin?
? He smiled at me and then he put it back??
Come on, Sal.
It always did make me laugh, that song. That wicked old king.
Wrap it up, and I'll be on my way.
I don't know, I'm sure.
I hate to part with it.
Think of that stone... Aberdeen granite.
"Here lies maid, model, cook, wife and a true friend"...
in nice, clean chiseled lettering.
Now that you're such a success, Gulley...
I should think you could ask almost any price you want.
What will you do with all the money?
Buy ginger mustaches.
Oh, I just want room to expand.
I've learned a lot the last few weeks.
I've a new vision...
something quite different.
Why don't you get a proper job, a big boy like you?
Where will it get you, being artistic?
A bed on the embankment at best, more like a spell in the cooler.
Look out. Police. ? La la la la la la la?
Is that you, Melba?
Oh, it's you. I thought it was someone respectable like the inspector from Scotland Yard.
- Here, where've you been? You gave us the slip. - Never mind where I've been.
- Look what I've got. - What is it... a new chimney? We could do with one.
You wait and see. I'm on my way to the Beeders.
But I wanted Nosey to have a look at this...
before it's put in its golden frame.
Oh, 8,000 I'd get for this in Bond Street.
- That quality... fourpence each. - Poor Mr. Jimson.
Done in the eye by your girlfriend again, I suppose.
- Well, serves you right for taking up with such people. - I'll do her properly this time!
Look, we haven't even got a larder to keep them in.
Don't stand there. Run after the old boy and see he doesn't get into any more mischief.
- Gulley! - You didn't expect me back so soon, did you?
- Gulley, go away. I'll call the police. - You wicked old windbag.
- Oh! - Give me my picture!
- Gulley! - Give me my picture!
No, Mr. Jimson! Come out of there!
Open the door, Mrs. Monday!
No. Stop it! Murder!
Help! No! Gulley!
Police! Help!
It's mine! It's mine!
Let go. Let go!
Stop, Mr. Jimson!
- Mrs. Monday? - Quick, Mr. Jimson, this way.
- It wasn't your fault, Mr. Jimson. She slipped.
Mrs. Monday. Are you all right?
She's only knocked herself out. Quick, Mr. Jimson, before they get in!
Mrs. Monday!
- My God. - It's mine, Gulley. It's mine.
- God help me, I could have killed her. - Let me in!
Quick. Mr. Jimson. This way!
Never get spliced to a scheming cook general...
or you'll end on the gallows.
We can't spend the night here.
I like it here.
Bricks and broken glass...
and an old garbage can.
It's the story of my life.
I can hear a ca... ca...
Oh, hell.
I told you I could hear a black cat.
Hail, fellow citizen.
She likes it here.
It's a palace. She says. Fit for a queen.
Mr. Jimson, come here!
Don't want to move. I'm broody.
A wall.
The LastJudgement.
What do you think I am... a surgeon?
Here you are, Michelangelo. Square B-1 in the top left-hand corner.
- Oh, for the wings of a dove. - Hold still.
Collect your paints from Nosey.
It won't stay white for long. I'm a colorful man.
I'm sick of cleaning you up. If you're going to mess with paints, you're wearing this.
I'm not painting, Cokey. I'm supervising my apprentices. What's your name, dear?
- Sybil. - Oh, speak up. You'll never make good if you mumble.
- Sybil! - That's better! Let the world know who you are!
The great Sybil. Well, you take C-2, the snout of the whale.
Nothing niggly, mind you. Let me hear the paint going on.
- Call yourself an artist. What do you mean, not painting? - There's no time, Cokey.
It's a race against the demolition boys.
Once my design's on that wall, they won't dare touch it.
A British painting of unparalleled magnitude.
- Excuse me, Mr. Jimson. - Yes?
C-2 appears to be occupied.
There's some mistake somewhere.
Hey, you, fatty!
You're fooling around in the wrong square!
Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Jimson!
- Oh. Madge! - Well, it's so confusing up here!
It could happen to anyone, dear. All the greatest artists got their squares wrong.
- Numbers were invented by Arabs who hate art. - We'll have to lower Madge.
Half a pint of viridian. You two, give him a hand with Madge.
Come on, stir it!
You've never seen your mum beating up eggs?
Or is your house all modern machinery?
- Hold on. Madge! - Hi!
- Hi, Madge! - We heard there were painting lessons from GulleyJimson.
- That's right. Sixpence an hour. - He's paying.
- For the three of us. - Where do we go, and what do we do?
Give a hand over there with Madge.
? Oh, dear baby wife of mine?
Oh, look who's here.
Dr. Livingstone, I presume.
- You've been warned. - Are you a hot gospeller?
- You know who I am. - Your face escapes me.
- I'm clerk to the borough surveyor. - Oh!
- I've told you 20 times in the last ten days. - Oh, oh.
And when you've finished that, you can start on the dam, D-8, 9 and 10.
- We may need tigers and orchids, fly catchers and flesh eaters... - We've run out of c-c...
flowers of evil, or a borough councillor eating a baby for breakfast.
- We've run out of c-cobalt blue. - Well, go and get some. Ask Cokey for the money.
- Miss Coker? Miss Coker?
We've run out of blue already, Miss Coker. I'll want two quid.
- Well, don't be silly. This lot cost 30 bob. - But we've got to have it.
There's only 12 and fourpence in the kitty.
Oh, look at that one... chipped. Right, that goes back.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve...
Make her eyes hard, Elspeth... steely, like ball bearings.
- Can I s-s-speak to you in private? - I'm all ears.
We've only 12 and fourpence left.
Twelve and fourpence? Well, give me the fourpence.
Let me have the coppers, Cokey.
- For the telephone? - I want to make a small investment.
Thank you.
Keep the color clean. Keep it balanced and enjoy yourselves.
Well. All I want to know is. Will it peel off?
I don't care to spend the rest of my life with all those trotters.
- It's a national monument. Sir William. - Yes? Who shall I say?
- A monument in the park is one thing. In your home is another. - I beg your pardon?
You wouldn't want to live with the Albert Memorial in your room, would you?
Arnold, please. Who's it for?
- Do try to smile. - I gather it's for you. Lady Beeder.
You know, I'm inclined to agree with Lord Stanworth that it would be sacrilege to move it.
- Who is it, Arnold? - The duchess of Blackpool.
This is Flora Beeder speaking. Who is it, please?
- The duchess of Blackpool. - Who?
7,000 in my debt, and I don't suppose I'll ever see a penny of it!
And what am I left with? Feet I don't want!
- Uh, can I get you a glass of sherry? - Uh, thank you.
No, l... I don't know that part of London at all.
Oh. Bring a checkbook.
I can honestly say I'm the last person in the world to harbor thoughts of revenge...
- Thank you. - But I would like to cutJimson's head off with a meat axe.
- Hear, hear! - Oh, it does sound rather fun.
- Oh, but my arm. - Renoir painted with one arm.
Oh, I see. Renoir did, did he?
Yes. Mr. Jimson. I understand.
Slap it on. No Dorset sunsets.
Yes. I think I can manage that.
- All you've got to do is paint the giraffe's eye. - The giraffe's eye.
Innocent, velvety...
river brown.
That's the idea.
You've got your whale upside down.
But Mr. Jimson, surely a whale doesn't have its eye under its jaw, does it?
None of your sarcasm, now. My whales do, otherwise they wouldn't be real.
- They'd just be pictures out of a whale book. - Shall I try and reverse it?
Not now. It's too late. No, no, no, Flo!
Learn when to leave well alone.
- You mean it's finished? - Finished.
Three cheers for Mr. Jimson!
- Hip, hip... - Hooray!
- Hip, hip... - Hooray!
- Hip, hip... - Hooray!
The philistines are upon us!
Let them be. And remember, girls, no roughhousing.
- It's all yours. - Right. Come on, get them trestles down.
If I paint a wall, it's as good as asking it to catch fire or be struck by lightning.
I had hoped that this would take an earthquake or a world war.
I hadn't reckoned on a borough council and demolition.
- It's blasphemous, and it's "obskeen." - Who?
"Obskeen," but I'm bashing the first bloke what touches it.
I warned him two weeks ago, Sir William, when I first got wind of it.
This chapel's got to come down. Borough surveyor's orders.
Now, clear away, please. Come on, everybody. Everybody, come on.
Bert, the bulldozer!
Rotten baskets!
She's comin' down in 15 seconds from now.
It's not my responsibility, I assure you.
Oi, Bert, come on! Get started!
Everyone okay?
I'd know that cough anywhere.
I had to do it, Cokey.
Too much responsibility for those chaps...
destroying a national monument.
Where do you think you're goin'?
I've got a few bits and pieces to collect, then I'll be on my way...
to fresh woods and pastures new.
- Where? - I need a new horizon.
Hey, you. Come here.
Yes, you in the pinstripe.
You great nob...
Miss Coker, before there's a fi... fi... fi... riot!
- Let me... - Keep out of this, Flo! Flo, keep out of this!
We need more sail!
We're in the doldrums. Flog that man!
Skipper, you're just in time to relieve me.
Let her go, Captain. I'm away with this tide.
All gone forward! Let go aft!
All gone aft.
She'll rip with this tide!
Helm amidships!
- Where is he? - He's away, miss... away with the fleet.
There's a river mist blowing up.
It's not a trip I'd like to be making.
You old fool!
Where do you think you're goin', Dad?
- What's the big idea? - Ah, there is good news yet to hear...
and fine things to be seen before we go to paradise...
by way of Kensal Green.
I hope he drowns!
You can't hear me, Mr. Jimson, I know, but...
Michelangelo, Rembrandt...'re one of them!
Just so you'd know.
Haasil 2003 CD1
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