������̳��tomlee.
Ralph, you've got three minutes.
Coming.
Ralph!
Coming.
Don't run.
Where's your father?
Cat got your tongue? What's the matter with you?
Regina, no lunch, thank you. We're eating at Government House.
Thank you, madam.
- You've scrubbed up well, Popeye. - Don't call me that, Dad,
- especially not in public. - Of course I won't, Popeye.
- Dad! - Ask your father for the car keys.
They're in her handbag.
You might just make an effort, just this once, on this one occasion.
I suppose that would be asking just a little too much, wouldn't it?
Take no notice. Let's go, Popeye.
Dozen.
May I open my window, please?
My hair will get ruined.
"To our trusty and well-beloved
"Harry Giles Compton,
"for 22 years of exemplary service for education
"here in Swaziland.
"This 10th day of June, 1969,
"in the 18th year of our reign,
"by the Sovereign's command, Elizabeth II."
- Well done, Dad. - Thank you, Popeye.
- Well done, old bean. - Thank you, Charles.
- Congratulations, lumpkin. - Hear, hear, and welcome to the club.
Thank you.
- You're looking ravishing, June. - Stop it.
- Am I really? - Oh, yes, you are.
- Oh, Gwennie, I didn't see you there. - Oh, don't mind me.
- Huge congratulations, Harry. - Thank you, Gwennie.
- So proud of you. - Congratulations, Harry.
You've got some bloody front, Traherne.
- You must be ever so proud, Ralph... - Bugger off!
- Would anybody like a cigarette? - Thank you, Gwennie.
Is this some new game?
- Am I missing something? What's up? - Why don't you ask him?
Nine months.
Nine months, no speaks.
Go on, I dare you. Just once, break your epic bloody sulk.
Answer me this, where were you last night?
We all left the club at the same time.
Another flat tire?
You think he doesn't know?
Regina, you can remove all these silly cards now, thank you.
Yes, sir.
How dare you contradict me in front of a servant.
The sphinx has spoken.
What's a gong, Dad?
That stupid piece of metal bird shit they gave your father today.
Take no notice. Ask your mother to pass the salt.
Why is Daddy's medal stupid?
Because all those idiots
dressed up like bloody vanilla ice creams, think that it's a suitable reward
for enduring a lifetime of
boredom, out here in this
middle of bloody nowhere, that's why!
If anyone deserves a medal, it's me.
- I need another drink. - Oh, I bet you do.
You're pathetic. Pathetic!
Always have been, always will be!
Well, why is this house stuffed to the gunnels with
cards and telegrams?
Toadying ass-lickers, the lot of them!
Wake up, darling.
- Ralphie. - What?
This is the hardest thing I've ever had to say,
and there is no easy way to say this, but, my darling, Mummy's leaving.
How do you mean?
You won't have to go to school today.
It's just that I can't carry on anymore like this.
But I love you very, very much, my angel.
- Please don't go. I beg of you. - I... I must.
Then take me with you, please.
I can't.
I'll call.
Dad!
Ralphie?
- When is she coming back? - I don't know, Popeye.
Long time or a little time?
Maybe long time.
- Maybe never? - Maybe.
- Doesn't she love me anymore? - Of course she does.
Then how could she leave?
She's very well, thank you, Father.
This is Mr. Compton.
Morning, sir.
Good morning, class. You may sit down, thank you.
All right, let's see.
Very good.
Excellent. A very difficult one.
- Yes? - Ears.
I'm begging you,
begging you, Lauren, please.
Just give me a chance. Is that too much to bloody ask?
It's over. I'm never coming back.
Where's Ralph?
He's right here. You ask her, Popeye.
- Are you there already? - Just got here, darling.
When are you coming home?
I can't, not for a while.
- But I'll eat all my vegetables, I promise. - I can't.
Please, Mummy.
I beg of you, please.
It'll be much better once you're settled at boarding school.
I love you, and I have to go. Bye-bye, Ralphie.
Thank you, Lord, for the love you give. Thank you, Lord, for the life we live.
Please make my mummy come back again and fix our broken family.
Amen.
Dad.
Oh, God. Dad.
Please, wake up!
Dad! Please, don't be dead!
Oh, no.
Don't worry, Dad. Don't worry. It'll be all right.
It'll be all right, Dad.
It'll be all right.
Good morning, class.
Good morning, Mr. Parker.
Now, stand up. Yes, you two.
Read it out loud and clear.
Chop-chop, Compton. We're all waiting.
Well, speak up, we haven't got all day.
- "Where's your mum?" - Meaning?
Nothing, sir.
- Clare? - His mother's adulterated, sir.
Bugger you!
Come back in here, young man! Be quiet!
Bugger you! No, bugger you!
Bugger you both!
Ralphie.
Can I come in?
Oh, this is marvelous.
Absolutely marvelous. How did you make it?
Just out of an old shoebox and lollipop sticks.
Oh, well, it's very, very clever.
Show me how it works.
What happened at school today, Popeye?
I'm not cross, I just want to know, that's all.
- Well, Mummy ran away, too. - That's different.
She fell out of love with me.
Why did she leave me?
One day you'll understand, when you're older.
But you don't understand, and you are older.
That is very true, smarty pants.
Hello-ah! Cooie!
Why does she have to come round all the time?
Auntie Gwen's very upset, Mummy went away with her husband,
and we're going to be very nice to her, all right?
Cooie!
Anybody in?
Oh, you!
You gave me the fright of my life, you two did.
Come here and give your Auntie Gwen a nice big kiss.
- Hello, Gwennie. - Hello, Harry.
- Would you like a drink? - Oh, bless you, my angel.
I could murder something soft,
with maybe just a teensy-weensy little squidge of whiskey.
How are you, Harry?
Well, you know, Gwennie. Bearing up, bearing up.
- And you? - Oh, don't ask. Don't ask.
I've cooked you boys a homemade curry.
Oh, you shouldn't have, really, Gwennie. You shouldn't have.
No, it's a pleasure.
Oh, thanks, angel. Just what the doctor ordered.
Cheers, boys.
Cheers, Gwen. That's not too stiff for you, is it?
No.
- How's your sunstroke, Auntie Gwen? - I beg yours?
Mummy said you had sunstroke.
Yeah, she said it made you speak slurry and walk all wobbly.
- Is she back, then? - Of course she isn't.
He's just pulling your leg. Aren't you, Popeye?
- No, relax, Gwen. - Evening, chaps.
- Ah, June. - Don't get up.
Good to see you.
- Hello, Gwennie. - Hello, June.
Oh, I spy with my little eye, someone who's beaten me to it.
- One of your curries? - Yeah.
Family allergy to all things curried after India, I'm afraid.
Can't stomach the stuff!
Where's your husband?
Not him, too. What, gone? Can't keep up.
- Yes, I'm afraid so, June. - Oh, you poor thing. Have a hankie.
Thank you.
Lauren's not skedaddled back yet, has she, Ralphie?
Well, at least I got that right.
Now, I've baked you chaps a Dundee.
- Can't stay, must trot. - That's so sweet of you.
Ta-ta.
I'll kill that bitch!
Oh, Harry Compton.
I love you. I do, you know.
I really do.
- I've come to say good night. - Ralphie.
Well, come and give your Auntie Gwen a goodnight...
- Are you all right, old girl? - Yeah, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.
You're not my aunt.
Steady on, Ralphie. What's gotten into you, old boy?
Ralphie, come here. Ralphie, get back here.
- Leave me alone! - I know this is hard, Popeye, but...
- Gwen's on our side, remember? - Only 'cause she's in love with you.
- Oh, don't be daft. - It's true.
Mummy stole her husband, and now she wants you. It's obvious.
And Auntie June is after you, too.
Nonsense. We're all just a little upset, that's all.
Then why are you laughing?
Because I am not going to get remarried.
God, your breath stinks!
Enough backchat from you, young man. Now go to sleep.
Good night.
- Morning. - Oh, morning, Gwennie.
- Good morning, all. - Forgotten all your manners?
Regina, could you bring an extra cup and plate for Mrs. Traherne, thank you.
- Tea, Gwennie? - Oh, lovely.
I'm sorry about last night, Ralphie, it was a touch of my sunstroke.
- What did I tell you? - I slept on the couch, you know.
Does madam eat the kipper?
Oh. Yes.
Might be better if I did go to a boarding school, like Mummy wanted.
Done!
Ralphie, I didn't mean that, Popeye. You can't go, I'd be all alone.
Doesn't look like it!
I won't ever let you down, Popeye.
I'll miss you so much.
All right, go. Go on.
Bye-bye.
I love you.
- Popeye. - What happened?
I'm so sorry I'm late. I'm so sorry I'm late.
Do you... It was a flat tire. How old are you?
Can't remember.
Neither can I!
- You look different. - Yes, I've got remarried.
You've what?
- Who? Auntie Gwen? - No, you daft fool. She's American.
- How long have you known her? - Six weeks.
Fuck.
You a very big boy now.
Hi, Ralph, I'm Ruby. Hi, honey.
- Oh, yeah? And I'm Neil Armstrong. - You are funny.
Oh, God, look at you. You are so handsome, too.
Fix me a drink, please, hon.
- How do you do? - Just fabulously.
I've heard so much about you already.
I was getting worried about you guys. What happened, honey?
- Flat tire, darling. - Really? Again? Oh, God.
You must be starving.
First thing I'm gonna do is feed you guys up a little.
- You eat pasta? - What happened here?
- You like it? I just love it. - Here we go, darling.
- Bottoms up. - Isn't she just gorgeous?
- Excuse me, please. - You go right ahead.
Everything okay? I got a gift to welcome you home.
- You want to open it? - Thank you.
- I'd rather not just yet, thanks. - Take your time.
Oh, don't worry. This is weird for me, too.
Please, don't call me Mom, just Ruby, okay? Or Rube, whatever.
All right, Popeye?
Puppets.
Ralphie.
Listen,
I'm sorry you've chosen to take it this way, Popeye.
- Didn't have any choice, did I? - But what was I supposed to have done?
You could have warned me.
Ruby's wonderful, you'll see.
Just give it time.
You mean like you did?
- What? - Nothing.
No, no, you said something. Spit it out.
- She's not my mum. - True.
Yes!
- When's your mum coming down? - What do you think?
- It's been two years. - Bloody hell.
Shush!
I say. The sort of people who go caravanning, can you imagine?
Sleeping on four wheels, by choice. I ask you.
"I ask you."
- Oh, very good. - Go get them, Harry!
Harry said I'd be bored stiff, but I love it.
Hey, hi.
- I beg your pardon? - Granted.
Lady Hardwick is the wife of our resident High Commissioner, Sir Gifford.
- Oh, good for you, girl! - Lady Hardwick to you.
- And who might you be? - Gwen Traherne.
My ex-husband's the engineer.
We have met, four times.
- Oh, I don't think so. - Oh, come on, girls, relax. I'm an American.
How very hubbly-jubbly for you.
- "Hubbly-jubbly." - "Hubbly-jubbly."
Excuse me.
- What's with her? - That's our family done for.
- Bollocks. - You watch.
What am I doing, Gwen?
There's been a bit of a to-do with Lady Riva.
Oh, good God.
- Lady Riva's erupted. - What?
Oh, Ruby, you're an angel.
Okay.
I think you'd better go and apologize to Riva.
What did I tell you?
You're kidding me.
I'm being sent home. You guys want a ride?
Yeah.
Toodle-pip.
Damn them! Damn them all!
Go, Ruby!
Lady Riva's upset? What about poor Gwen?
She simply introduced me to the old woman.
She's not a woman, she's a lady.
Oh, not by my reckoning, she's not. What was Gwen's crime?
She spoke to Lady Hardwick first, before waiting to be spoken to.
- Just not done. - Oh, come on, Charles.
I've been to college.
I've flown around the globe a couple of times.
You're telling me I have to hold my tongue
till old Lady Doodah chooses to speak to me? Come on.
- For the sake of peace... - The only peace I'll give that old witch
- is a piece of... - Children present.
- She was rude. - See?
- They were my witnesses. - Right, well.
Oh, by the way, Harry,
we've just had confirmation that you-know-who will be here
for the independence handover brouhaha.
Who, who, who? Who is you-know-who?
Hush-hush, I'm afraid. I'll let myself out, thank you.
- Toodle-pip, all. - Toodle-pip, old Charles.
Toodle-pip.
"Toodle-pip"? "Toodle-pip" and "hush-hush"?
Why do they all speak in this snooty baby talk all the time?
Blah blah this, ta-da that,
hubbly-jubbly, hoity-toity, toodle-loo, ding-dong.
Sounds like a load of old wah-wah.
Wah-wah, wah-wah, wah-wah, wah-wah.
- Wah-wah, wah-wah, wah-wah! - Wah-wah, wah-wah, wah-wah!
Ta-da!
How very hubbly-jubbly.
It's all just wah-wah to me.
She's all right, isn't she?
Maybe, maybe not.
Happiest I've ever seen your old man.
Maybe. Still feels weird though.
Vernon, your mom wants you home.
- Oh, thanks, Mrs. Compton. - Call me Ruby.
All right. Cheers, Ruby. See you, mate.
Glad you didn't throw those puppets away then, huh?
- I'm sorry. - No problem.
Can you remember the first time you did it?
Did what?
- I've stopped. - Go on, I dare you. Just once.
Come on.
I'd say they're all out now, wouldn't you?
Here comes the porcupine!
I've had the most incredible idea.
No!
How we might gift the Swazi nation
with a diddly-doozup swansong of our own.
Plain English, please, Charles.
I propose we mount a farewell musical for Her Most Royal Highness.
- What do you have in mind, Charles? - Camelot!
Oh, yes!
All those in favor, say "aye."
- Aye! - Aye!
Can I be in it?
Which Royal Highness?
I'm afraid that's still hush-hush, Gwennie.
The good news is, Tobias has agreed to produce the show,
once we get the tra-la-la from HQ.
- On condition we can find singers. - Oh, Tobias, of course we can.
Dozen sings like a dream.
I'm afraid it's for club members only.
- Great, well, I'll propose him then. - Bravo! Hear, hear!
I take it, then, I have your support.
Yes!
Hang on.
You want to mount a medieval musical for a minor British royal?
Aren't we supposed to be celebrating African independence here?
It's a symbolic gesture.
- What do you think, Dr. Zim? - Oh, excellent idea.
A perfect antidote for Princess Margaret,
before she endures a whole day of Swazi tribal dancing.
Princess Margaret!
- Who told you it was Princess Margaret? - You did, Charles.
The other Mrs. Compton is here.
Don't wish to intrude.
- Charles. June. - Hello, Lauren.
Sorry I'm late, Ralph.
Excuse me, please.
Where's my husband?
- Come on. - Mum!
Where's my husband?
- What are you doing here, Mum? - I had no choice,
I've been stuck in a meeting all morning,
with Shadler and Shadler, trying to sort out my visiting rights.
Where's my husband?
But I thought you were coming down next weekend?
Is that what he told you? Damn liar!
- Answer me! - Oh, shut up! Keep out of this!
- Where is he? - I've warned you!
I saw you, Mum.
- I beg your pardon? - Two years ago, with Uncle John.
- That night, in the car with him. - Answer me! Where's my husband?
You're imagining things, darling.
I can explain!
- Ralphie, are you all right? - Hang on.
Shadler and Shadler.
"Our client has experienced frustration and delay,
"and the deliberate placing of obstacles
"in the way of exercising her rights of reasonable access to her child.
"Your client has willfully misinterpreted previous attempts..."
Bastard! Bastard!
I'm so sorry, my boy.
Why did Lauren choose to show up today?
Don't you think for one moment that I don't understand...
Sorry I'm late.
- So, what day is it today? - It's Saturday, sweetie.
Oh, well, then it'll be the hen with its ass in the air.
- No, thanks, sweetie, I'm not hungry. - Hey, honey, please.
Now, why do we always have chicken on Saturday and beef on Sunday?
- Regina can't read. - So, dolly boy's mother, here,
taught her to do a different meal for each day of the week.
Clear? Got it? Comprende?
- Then I'll teach her to read. - The bloody hell you will!
- What's wrong with you, Dad? - Nothing wrong with me, sonny boy.
- What is that supposed to mean? - Listen to yourself. Look at yourself.
You're nothing but a bloody common ex-air hostess!
Fuck you, Harry!
Sorry.
Ta-da!
Ah, quelle surprise!
Hen with its ass in the air.
Sit down!
You knew Mum was coming down to see me. So why didn't you bloody tell me?
- Shut up! - No, you shut up!
Where do you think you're going?
Hey! Hey, hey, hey!
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
Shut up! Shut up!
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
Shut up! Shut up!
- What happened? - Nothing.
- Well, what then? - Nothing. Doesn't matter.
- Where's Uncle John? - Playing golf.
So, what do you want to do today?
Don't know. Maybe drop me off at the club later?
All right. What's on?
Oh, yeah, thanks a lot.
- Hello, mate. What are you doing here? - Don't ask.
Here, have a gander at this lot.
They can't sing, can't dance, all of them too old.
- But we're not. Come on. - No chance.
Come on, you great dimbo.
No, no, no, no. She won't do, Tobias.
We can't have a royal played by a commoner with no neck.
At least she can sing, Lady H.
- Who's she? - Monica. Taj Mahal's daughter.
How can she be? They look like different species.
I say, do you mind? We're trying to take notes here!
Right. Which of you little buggers is gonna bleat for us first?
- Go on. - Not the one in stripes.
- Go on, my boy. - Caravanners.
Come on, Ralph. Hurry up.
Bunny will give you the intro.
- That was stunning, Ralph. - Very good. Very good.
- Did my audition. - Fabulous. You get the part?
I have to wait and see.
Over my dead bloody body. Where's the key?
- Cat got your tongue? - Haven't you had enough already, honey?
Stop trying to control me all the time, woman.
Where's the bloody key?
Please, Dad. I'm asking you really nicely.
- Give me the bloody key! - Please, Dad. Don't have any more.
- You stay out of this. Get me some ice! - Honey, let's have an early night.
- Are you deaf? - Oh, just stop it, will you? Stop it!
Please, Dad, don't!
- Please, don't. Dad! Dad. - Please, come on, please.
I suppose you think this is all so bloody easy?
Well, wake up.
Just you wait until you lose everything.
And I mean everything.
Wife, position, future, the whole damn kit and caboodle!
Come independence, we're all on the scrap heap!
- So, wake up. - Spare us the martyrdom, Dad, you're drunk!
I've had enough of you, you pompous little shit!
And you can forget about your fucking Camelot.
- And you're a liar and a loser! - I'll knock your bloody block off!
- Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! - Liar! Liar! Liar!
Open this door! Open this bloody door!
Ralphie, open this door!
I'll knock your bloody block off! Open this door!
Open this bloody door!
Nothing that I said or
did last night
was the truth.
None of it.
Is that clear?
That's what you always say, Dad.
It'll be different this time.
- Is it because of me? - No.
- Me? - No.
I must go. I'm...
I'm late for work.
Did you mean what you said about Camelot?
Of course not, no.
I can't deal with this.
I knew he drank, but doesn't everyone out here?
Not like him.
He gets really legless when no one else is around except us.
Bravo!
Charles. Charles.
What?
Who is this Dozen person?
- Our gardener. - What?
A, he's not a club member,
and B, Lancelot is supposed to be French.
- French? - This is an outrage. Tobias!
A, Dozen is a club member, as of today,
and B, he is the only man who can reach the top notes and stay in tune.
You will not have the last word on this, Tobias Brown.
That is my prerogative!
- Charles! Chop-chop. - I need a drink.
I'm playing the queen, and you're playing Mordred!
- Congratulations. - You, too.
Well done, Ralphie.
I think I'm in love, Verne.
You haven't got a chance, matey!
Watch me. Yeah!
I got the part. I got the part!
Fabulous. I knew you would.
And Dozen, Dozen's going to be Lancelot!
- Oh, my God, that'll teach the old bat! - Too right!
Who sanctioned Dozen to audition?
Oh, hush-hush, I'm afraid, Charles. Drink?
That's not funny!
I don't think you realize just what you've done.
Lady Hardwick is throttling for your blood right now!
- Does Harry know about all this? - Know about what?
- It's hush-hush, I'm afraid, honey. - Oh, hush-hush.
- Attagirl, you're catching on. - And whose side are you on, Harry?
Okay. Toodly-pip-pip-pip-pip-pip, Charles.
- I got the part, Dad. - Oh, congratulations, Popeye.
Well done. Well done.
Can I stay over at Verne's tonight?
It's just that we've got rehearsals, and he lives closer to the club.
- So long as your mum doesn't mind. - She's groovy.
I'll grab my bag.
Look and learn.
Evening, Mrs. Malaga.
Has anyone ever told you who you're the spitting image of?
- No, love, who? - Elizabeth Taylor.
Scout's honor.
Look, I know it's an 18, but we're studying the book at school,
and wondered if you could make an academic exception?
Just this once, Liz?
These are on the house, love. But not a word to anyone.
Thanks.
- You're shameless, you are. - Got us in, didn't I?
That's disgusting. Where's Charlie's wife?
- On leave in England. - How are we gonna get out?
Crawl, just before the end.
- See you, Liz. - Thanks, Liz.