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 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 ocasion.
I suppose that would be asking just a little too much.
Take no notice. Let's go, Popeye.
- Sauwubona, Mrs Compton. - Dozen.
- Sauwubona, Dozen. - Sauwubona, Mr Compton.
Siyabonga, Dozen.
May i open my window, please?
My hair will get ruined.
To our trusty and well-beloved Harry Childs Compton,
for 22 years of exemplary service for education here in Swaziland.
This tenth 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.
- Welcome to the club. - Oh, thank you.
You're looking ravishing, June.
- Am I really? - Oh, yes, you are.
- Gwennie, I didn't see you there. - Don't mind me.
Huge congratulations, Harry.
- Thank you, Gwennie. - So proud of you.
- Congratulations, Harry. - You've got some bloody front, Trahene.
- You must be ever so proud... - Bugger off.
- Would anybody like a cigarette? - Thank you, Gwennie.
Is this some new game?
Am I mising 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 tyre?
Do 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.
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. - I bet you do.
You're pathetic. Pathetic.
Always have been, always will be.
Why is this House stuffed to the gunwales with cards and telegrams?
Toadying arselickers, the lot of them!
Wake up, darling.
Ralphie.
What?
This is the hardest thing I've ever had to say.
There is no easy way to say this but...
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 any more like this.
But I love you very, very much. Bye, angel.
- Please Don't go. I beg of you. - I must.
Then take me with you. Please.
I can't.
I'll call you.
Dad.
When's she Coming back?
I Don't know, Popeye.
A long time or a little time?
Maybe a long time.
Maybe never?
Maybe
- Doesn't she love me any more? - Of course she does.
Then how could she leave?
She's very well, thank you.
This is Mr Compton.
- Morning, sir. - Good morning, class.
You may sit down, thank you.
All right, let's see.
Very good.
Excellent. Very difficult one.
Yes?
I'm 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.
Please, Mummy.
I beg of you. Please.
It'll be much better once you're settled at boarding school
I love you. 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.
Please, wake up.
Please don't be dead.
Don't wory, Dad.
It'll be all right.
It'll be all right, Dad.
- Good morning, class. - Good morning, Mr Parker.
Stand up. Yes, you two.
Read it out loud and clear.
Chop, chop, Compton. We're all waiting.
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.
Can I come in?
This is marvellous. Absolutely marvellous.
How did you make it?
Just out of an old shoebox and lollipop sticks.
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.
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.
Cooee.
Why does she have to come round all the time?
Auntie Gwen's very upset.
Mummy went away with her husband. We're going to be very nice to her.
Anybody in?
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? - I could murder something soft.
With maybe just a teensy-weensy little squidge of whisky.
- How are you, Harry? - You know, Gwennie, bearing up.
- And you? - Don't ask.
I've cooked you boys a homemade curry.
You shouldn't have, really, Gwennie.
It's a pleasure.
Thanks, angel. Just what the doctor ordered.
- Cheers, boys. - This is not too stiff for you?
- No. - How's your snstroke?
- I beg yours? - Mummy said you had snstroke.
She said it made you speak slurry and walk all wobbly.
- Is she back, then? - No. He's just pulling your leg.
- Aren't you, Popeye? Relax, Gwen. - Evening, chaps.
- June. - Don't get up.
- Good to see you. - Hello, Gwennie.
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 lundia.
Can't stomach the stuff.
Where's your husband?
Not him too? What, gone?
- Can't keep up. - Yes, I'm afraid so, June.
- You poor thing. Have a hanky. - 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. - So sweet of you.
Ta-ta.
I'll kill that bitch!
Harry Compton.
I love you. I do, you know.
I really do.
I've come to say good night.
Come and give your Auntie Gwen a good-night ki...
Are you all right, old girl?
- I'm fine. - You're not my ant.
Steady on, Ralphie. What's gotten into you, old boy?
Come here.
- Leave me alone. - I know this is hard, Popeye.
- Gwen's on our side, remember? - Only cos she's in love with you.
- 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.
Now, go to sleep.
Good night.
- Morning. - Morning, Gwennie.
- Good morning, all. - Forgotten all your manners?
Regina, could you bring an extra cup and plate for Mrs Trahene. Tea?
Lovely. I'm sory about last night, Ralphie.
- It was a touch of my snstroke. - What did I tell you?
- I slept on the couch, you know. - Does madam eat the kipper?
It 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.
What happened?
I'm so sory I'm late.
Flat tyre. How old are you?
I can't remember.
Neither can I.
- You look different. - Yes, I've...
- 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're a very big boy now.
Hi, Ralph.
- I'm Ruby. Hi, honey. - And I'm Neil Armstrong.
You are funny. 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. I was getting woried about you guys.
- What happened, honey? - Flat tyre, darling.
Really, again? God.
You must be starving. First thing I'm gonna do is feed you up a little.
You eat pasta?
What happened here?
- You like it? I just love it. - Here you go, darling.
- Bottomss up. - Isn't she just gorgeous?
- Excuse me, please. - You go right ahead.
Everything OK? I got a gift to welcome you home.
- You wanna open it? - Thank you.
- I'd rather not just yet, thanks. - Take your time.
Don't wory, this is weird for me too.
Please Don't call me Mom. Just Ruby, or Rube, whatever.
All right, Popeye?
Puppets.
Listen.
I'm sory you've chosen to take it this way.
I didn't have any choice, did I?
But what was I supposed to have done?
You could've 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, run!
- 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.
- 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 high commisioner, Sir Gifford.
- Good for you, girl. - Lady Hardwick to you.
- And who might you be? - Gwen Trahene.
My husband... ex-husband is the engineer.
We have met.
Four times.
- I Don't think so. - Come on, girls, relax.
- I'm an American. - How very hubbly-jubbly for you.
- Hubbly-jubbly. - Excuse me.
What's with her?
That's our family done for.
- Bollocks. - You watch.
- What am I doing, Gwen? - There was a to-do with Lady Riva.
- Good God. Lady Riva's erupted. - What?
Ruby, you're an angel.
- What did I tell you? - You're kidding me?
I'm being sent home. You guys want a ride?
Toodle-pip.
- 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.
Not by my reckoning, she's not. What was Gwen's crime?
She spoke to Lady Hardwick first before waiting to be spoken to.
- It's 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?
- For the sake of peace. - I'll give that old witch a piece...
- Children present. - She was rude.
- 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 is you-know-who? - Hush-hush, I'm afraid.
I'll let myself out, thank you. Toodle-pip, all.
Toodle-pip, Charles.
Toodle-pip? Toodle-pip and hush-hush?
Why do they all speak in this snooty baby-talk all the time?
Blah-blah this, ta-ta that, hubbly-jubbly, hoity-toity,
toodle-loo, ding-dong.
Sounds like a load of old wah-wah.
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. - Thanks, Mrs Compton.
- Call me Ruby. - All right.
Cheers, Ruby. See you, mate.
Glad you didn't throw those puppets away, then?
- I'm sory. - 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.
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? - Camelot.
All those in favor say 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. - Tobias, of course we can.
Dozen sings like a dream.
I'm afraid it's for club members only.
- Great. I'll propose him, then. - Bravo. Hear, hear.
I take it, then, I have your support?
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?
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.
Sory I'm late. Excuse me, please.
Where's my husband?
- Come on. - Mum.
- Where's my husband? - What are you doing here?
I had no choice.
I've been stuck at Shadler & Shadler, trying to sort out visiting rights.
- Where's my husband? - You were Coming down next weekend.
Is that what he told you? Damn liar.
- Answer me. - Shut up. Keep out of this.
- Where is he? - I warned you.
I saw you, Mum.
I beg your pardon?
Two years ago with Uncle John.
That night, in the car with him.
You're imagining things, darling.
I can explain...
- Ralphie, are you all right? - Hang on. Shadler & Shadler.
"Our client has experienced frustration and delay
and the placing of obstacles in the way of exercising
her rights of access to her child.
Your client has wilfully misinterpreted attempts... "
Bastard!
I'm so sory, my boy.
Why did Lauren choose to show up today?
Don't you think for one moment that I Don't understand...
Sory I'm late.
- So, what day is it today? - It's Saturday, sweetie.
Then it'll be the hen with its arse in the air.
- No, thanks, sweetie, I'm not hungry. - Hey, honey, please.
Why do we always have chicken on Saturday and beef on Sunday?
Regina can't read.
Dolly-boy's mother 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.
Quelle surprise! Hen with its arse in the air.
- Sit down. - You knew Mum was Coming to see me.
So why didn't you bloody tell me?
- Shut up. - No. You shut up.
Where do you think you're going?
Shut up!
What happened?
Nothing.
- Well, what, then? - Nothing.
It 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?
- Hello, mate. What you doing here? - Don't ask.
Have a gander at this.
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, she won't do, Tobias.
You can't have a royal played by a commoner with no uneck.
- 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. - Come on, Ralph, hurry up.
Bunny will give you the intro.
All things bright and beautiful All creatures great and small
All things wise and wonderful The Lord God made them all
Each little flower that opens
Each little bird that sings
He made their glowing colours He made their tiny wings
All things bright and beautiful All creatures great and small
All things wise and wonderful The Lord God made them all
- Well done. - Very good.
- I 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?
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.
- Stay out of this. Get me some ice. - Honey, let's have an early night.
- Are you deaf? - Stop it. Will you stop it?
Please, Dad, Don't. Please Don't.
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 scrapheap.
- So wake up. - Spare us the martyrdom, Dad.
You're drunk.
I've had enough of you, you pompous little shit.
- Forget about your fucking Camelot. - And you're a liar. And a loser.
- I'll knock your bloody block off. - Stop it.
Open this door. Open this bloody door.
Open it. 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.
That clear?
- It'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.
onward, Christian soldiers
Marching as to war
With the cross of Jesus going on before
Bravo
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 tone.
You will not have the last word on this, Tobias Brown. That is my prerogative.
Charles! Chop, chop.
I can't believe I'm playing the Queen and you're playing Mordred.
Congratulations.
- You too. - Well done, Ralphie.
I think I'm in love, Verun.
- You haven't got a chance, matey. - Watch me.
I got the part. I got the part.
I knew you would.
- Dozen is going to be Lancelot. - 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 realise 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.
Attagirl, you're catching on.
- Whose side are you on, Harry? - OK, toodly-pip-pip-pip, Charles.
- I got the part, Dad. - Congratulations, Popeye. Well done.
Can I stay at Verun's tonight? We've got rehearsals. He lives closer.
- So long as your mom doesn't mind. - 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 honour.
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. Please.
These are on the House, love.
But not a word to anyone.
Thanks.
- You're shameless, you are. - Got us in, didn't it?
That's disgusting. Where's Charlie's wife?
- Home leave in England. - How are we gonna get out?
Crawl out, just before the end.
- See you, Liz. - Thanks, Liz.
P is for pot.
Hey, Ralph, come here. We'll do some more later, Regina.
Thank you.
- Where were you last night? - You know where.
- Singing rehearsals. - Singing rehearsals. Who was there?
- The usual bunch. - What did you sing?
- Songs from the show. - Don't lie. I know where you were.
Sit down.
- What's eating you? Dad drunk again? - Answer my question. Don't be rude.
What's it got to do with you? You're not my real mother.
Oh, oh, oh, I've been waiting for that one.
- Someone saw you, Ralph. - So?
- So it's illegal. - So what?
- Think an X-flick compares with this House? - I Don't give a damn about ratings.
I won't stand being lied to.
We all lie. Everyone's bonking everyone round here.
Because they're not divorced, we pretend they're not.
Like we pretend Dad's not a total drunk.
- Bullshit. - What would you know, anyway?
You're nothing but a common little air hostess.
- What's going on? - You deal with this.
- She hit me. - I'm sure she's very sory.
May I remind you that Ruby is not the enemy?
- She cares a great deal about you. - You can talk.
- You called her common. - I did nothing of the sort.
Yes, you did. You were drunk. Ask her.
That's it. You're grounded. Go to your room.
- You can't stay. Scarper. - I can't. Let me in.
- Vernon, are you still in there? - No, this is a recording.
- Since when did you smoke? - Since forever.
- Do you want some, or not? - I'll fall off my bike.
Suit yourself.
- What'll happen now? - Only everything.
Ralph, give us it back.
And what are you two doing here?
- What's it look like, Charlie? - Uncle Charles to you, thank you.
- I am not a Charlie. - You could've fooled me.
- You're not my uncle, either. - Stop laughing.
- Aren't you both grounded? - So it was you who grassed on us!
Of course. Your pornographic behaviour
is a consequence of seeing that filth.
- You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. - Not half as ashamed as we were of you.
I beg your pardon!
We saw you there.
- With what's her uname? - January, February...
- March... - April...
- May... - June. So what?
So you're a married man, Charlie, snogging another man's wife.
- You want seeing to, you two. - Don't beat us, sir, we're under age!
You're late, late, late. Too late.
- Sory, Tobias. - It's not good enough.
I can hardly inform Her Highness
Mordred has forgotten his song and dance because he's too late, can we?
- I told you we shouldn't cast him. - Please, Riva.
Out, both of you!
I'd already told them. Now, skedaddle!
And I expect you to be word-perfect and punctual next time.
Understood?
- Dance! - All right.
Ready, Gwen? Lovely, long neck.
And one and two.
Where the bloody hell have you been gallivanting
or have you forgotten that you've been grounded until further notice,
Tarzan?
- At rehearsals. - Rehearsals, my arse.
You haven't even the decency to apologise, have you?
Prancing around like a pansified little ponce.
- Drop it. It doesn't matter. - Yes, it does.
Who the hell do you think you are? Margot fucking Fonteyn?
- No, your fucking son. - Stop it, both of you.
You stay out of this. This is between me and him.
I Don't care about an apology.
Don't you ever use that language in front of me again, young man.
- That understood? - Yes, sir.
Loud and fucking clearly. And you're drunk, just for a change.
- What the hell is wrong with you? - You stay right here.
You stay where you fucking are. I'm outta here.
Come back, I'm talking to you.
Mark my words. This time, I'll knock your bloody block off.
Stay where you are.
Ruby.
Ruby, open this door.
Open up this bloody door!
Bastard.
What do you think you're doing?
Stay where you are. Fucking fairy.
Not so bloody smart now, are you?
Go on. Do it.
Shoot.
Go on.
Ralph.
Come on, please, Ralphie, get in.
Come on, please, Ralphie. He is desperate to talk to you.
- I'm scared of him. - Don't be scared. Come on, get in.
That monster isn't really him, you know that.
- Then why do you stay? - I love him. I love him.
I love your dad with every fibre of my being. I can't help it.
And I know you do, too.
Why does he do this to us?
Honestly, you know, I Don't think he can help himself.
But I can. I'm getting out of here the day I finish school.
That may be, Ralphie, but you never really get away, you know.
- It's called family. - Maybe. Maybe not.
It's just weird that every time my mother makes any kind of contact,
he goes ballistic.
Ruby told me what happened.
I Don't remember a bloody thing.
I'm so terribly sory, Popeye.
I'm begging you for one last chance.
Please, Popeye.
What do you say?
Nothing to say.
Please, Popeye.
Please.
Come in. So...
- How can I help you? - I Don't know how to say this.
Don't you wory. There isn't much I haven't seen or heard in here.
I think... I think my dad's an alcoholic.
Look, most of us have a bit of a tipple from time to time.
- How much is a tipple? - Varies. The odd bottle.
How about a bottle of Scotch per day?
I had no idea.
He tried to shoot me.
- When did this start? - The night my mother left.
- Can you help me? - Of course I will, but...
no-one else must know about this.
He's too highly respected in this country for anyone else to find out.
Thank you.
That you, my boy? Don't get up.
Where's Dad?
He's at the hospital. He's had to see Dr Zim about something or other.
What's the matter?
I'm sory to have to say this.
But Ruby's leaving.
What do you mean?
She's staying with me at the moment till she gets herself sorted out.
She asked me to tell you because she's just too upset
to see you herself at the moment.
I've just come to collect the rest of her things.
- This is all my fault. - Not at all.
It's nothing to do with you. Come here.
Ah, my angel boy.
Dr Zim has prescribed these anti-booze pills
which will make me sick as a dog if I so much as touch a drop.
- How did he find out? - Suppose Ruby told him before she left.
- What are we going to do, Dad? - I Don't know.
Your mother has asked me for a second chance.
But you're married to Ruby.
Yes. Yes, I know, Popeye, but...
...it doesn't look as if she'll be Coming back.
She says the situation is too... conflicted.
So for once, I think your mother may be right.
And I Don't want to stand in the way of that possibility.
But only if you agree, of course.
- What am I supposed to say? - Yes.
If that's what you want.
Where is she?
I've missed you so much.
You've really done a remarkable job. This looks wonderful.
Thank you.
Whose idea was all this?
Ruby's.
But everyone helped out.
Do you still use the puppets I gave you?
Of course.
- You must do me a show some time. - OK.
I'll look forward to that.
This looks lovely.
Who did all this?
Thank you.
Thank you, Regina. What have we here?
Spaghetti, madam.
I'm learning to read.
Could you ask your mother to pass the salt, please?
Don't move.
Stay as sweet as you are
Don't let a thing ever change you
Stay as sweet as you are
Don't let a soul rearange you
Don't ever lose
All the charm you poses
Your lovelines
Darling the way you say yes
Stay as sweet as you are
Discreet as you are
You're divine dear
Stay as grand as you are
And as you are tell me that you're mine dear
June.
I spy with my little eye.
- Hello, Ralphie. - Auntie June.
- Morning, ma'am. - Haven't seen you at rehearsals lately.
I've had to miss a few.
Where's the American?
Good morning, ladies.
Ralph, you must come riding some time.
- I'd like to, thank you. - Toodle-pip. Trot on.
I'm not invisible, you know.
No, you're a divorcee, which is far worse.
Excuse me.
We're leaving.
How dare they?
How dare they blank me?
And then judge me.
None of them has got a monogamous bone in their bodies.
What was I supposed to have done?
I honestly thought giving your father custody was the kindest option.
You'd be at home, have your friends.
Now I'm being vilified like some... scarlet woman.
My God, I've been a damn fool to think I could ever come back in here
and do battle with that coven of bitches.
What did Uncle John have that Dad didn't?
He says what he means.
Unlike every damned Englishman.
He hasn't got an ironic or effete bone in his body.
- Is he going back to Auntie Gwen? - Don't be daft.
He's been transfered to Peru.
Please Don't look at me.
Come back.
Please Come back.
So that's why she asked to come back.
- Where is she? - Who cares?
Harry.
- I've lost Ralph. - You most certainly have.
- What? What do you mean? - Why didn't you tell me?
Come on, Don't play games.
Is he here? Where is he?
Why Don't you try Peru?
- I see. - Do you?
Pity I didn't. I think it best that you leave.
- Immediately. - Don't be ridiculous.
God, you've changed your tune, haven't you?
Not that long ago, you were begging me to stay.
Just leave. Please.
- I need to speak to Ralph. - He doesn't want to see you.
- Don't be stupid. I'm his mother. - Were.
Harry, let me in! Regina.
Regina, let me in.
Let me in.
How many friends do you have?
My father claimed that if you had five true friends in your life,
you were a rich man.
- Who do you truly love? - You make it sound so easy, Popeye.
It is easy, Dad. Just call her.
Who?
Who do you think?
He was this famous trumpet mar from out Chicago way
He had a boogie style that no-one else
- I'm so sory. - Me too.
But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft
He's in the army now a-blowing reveille
He's the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B
- Quits? - Quits.
Yes, I was an air hostess...
Just long enough to learn how to deal with very difficult passengers.
I hate to intrude, folks, but we do need Mordred back in rehearsals.
Up to Ralph, right?
- Are you sure? - Damn sure.
Come on, then. Can we take the car?
He makes the company jump when he plays reveille
He's the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B
I'd like to apologise for calling you by your first name, Uncle Charles.
Gratefully accepted.
When you turn 16, I shall invite you to drop the "Uncle".
Thank you, sir.
That is it. We simply cannot wait any longer, June.
- Lancelot will have to walk on. - Don't shout. You'll scare him.
That is it. Out now.
- I warned you about that horse. - Excuse me, Lady Riva.
I shall repair to the bar for approximately 177 minutes.
- Do I make myself clear? - Well, I say.
- I can't work like this. - It'll be so bad it'll be brilliant.
I heard that. Right, you lot, take it from the top. Bunny, our note.
One, two, three, four.
Camelot
I know it sounds a bit bizare
But in Camelot
Camelot
That's how conditions are
- Hi, guys, how were rehearsals? - Brilliant.
- Tobias threw a fit. - What else is new?
- Where's Dad? - He didn't pick you up?
- We came back on my bike. - Maybe he had a flat tyre.
OK, I'll go call the club.
- I better get going. - Thanks, Verun.
See you, mate.
He's not there.
He also refused to take his pill this morning.
I knew I should've made him swallow the damn thing.
Just act normal, OK?
No matter what, OK?
Ah, the welComing committee.
Perfect timing. Don't you want to know where I've been?
Where have you been?
A post-independence educational strategy and budgeting meeting,
if you really want to know.
Translation, please.
They've asked me to stay on.
Honorary advisor, full salary, full perks.
All post-independence. What do you think of that?
- You bastard. - Language.
How could you do that to us?
And you thought I was back on the old you-know-what.
Oh, you bastard.
- But this is fabulous news, honey. - Yes.
My God, oh, my God!
My mother wants to know which night you've booked to see Camelot.
First night. She can go see any of the others.
- Are you sure? - Absolutely.
I am so proud of you.
Can you help me with these buttons?
Hurry up, you're unearly on. I can't wait.
Let me help you.
Sory.
Quick.
You jammy bastard, how'd you do it?
Charisma, my man.
Smile as if your lives depend on it.
Let's see you all curtsy deeply...
...as Her Most Royal Highness parades past you.
Yes, Uncle Charles.
It's going to be a triumph. A T-R-I-U-M-P-H, triumph.
- It's like National Geographic. - Only better.
Countdown, my man.
- Know where you're going next yet? - Yeah, only bloody Bahrain.
- Where's that? - Exactly.
- Come on, we can't be late, Dad. - Come in.
- Ruby. - Yeah, yeah. Relax, I'm Coming.
- Dad, I have a big favor to ask. - Ask away, Popeye.
Promise me you won't... you-know-what.
- Thank you. - Had to be done.
- He knows I didn't call Dr Zim. - That was very brave of you.
There's something you can do for me. Here.
- I can't, Dad. - There's no such thing as can't.
- Only one thing we want. - I know, Popeye.
I promise you, I won't let you down.
By the way, good luck tonight.
- How do I look? - Only fit to meet a princess.
Right answer.
God, you look beautiful.
- Oh, yeah. - Oh, ya.
- Come on. - Now concentrate
And stay calm. You're all going to be magical.
Her Royal Highness is on her way.
Shit.
- Let's see. - Please Don't, Auntie Gwen.
Come on, Ralphie.
Shit.
Now, it's all up to you.
Break a leg. I'll be rooting for you. In the bar.
Thank you. See you later. Break a leg. Good luck.
Where's Gwen? Where is Gwen?
- Out for the count. - My God.
Run to the bar and fetch Tobias quickly.
- Philip, ice and black coffee fast. - What the hell are you doing here?
- Guinevere's a goner. - God, not tonight of all nights.
For heaven's sake.
Come on, girl. Come on, Gwen.
Come on, girl. Come on.
I told you she was too common to play a queen.
She's proved common beyond commones incarnate.
Shut up, Riva.
Common I may be, but you can't act, you can't cook,
you can't even keep His Lordship's cock out of everybody else's clumps.
Ice bucket, quick.
- Get her on stage. - That's better.
Give her some air.
No matter the pain he ought to be unwinceable
Impossible deeds should be his daily fare
But where in the world, is there in the world a man so extraordinaire?
C'est moi, c'est moi I'm forced to admit
'Tiss I, I humbly reply
That mortal who these marvels can do
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tiss I
Well done, Gwen.
It's a triumph, a medieval triumph.
No, it's not, it's a bloody disaster.
- I beg your pardon? - What do you mean?
Her Royal Highness has departed.
- But it's only the interval. - Precisely.
- Claims she has an upset stomach. - Probably the local water.
- Water, my arse. - Tobias.
- I'm very, very upset. - Oh, honestly.
Camelot
Yes, Camelot, my boy.
Where once it never rained till after sndown
By 8.00 am, the morning fog had flown
Don't let it be forgot that once there was a spot
For one brief, shining moment that was known as
Camelot
Run, boy! Run!
You were just so great, it was just so great.
Well done, Ralphie.
You were just fabulous, Popeye.
Marvellous.
Fancy the royal personage leaving in the interval like that.
- I know. - Food poisoning, my arse.
Wait till she gets a dose of tribal dancing.
My darling.
My son did very well, didn't he?
Hi, I'm Ruby. He was great.
Aren't you going to Peru?
Come on.
- I thought you were Coming tomorow. - I wouldn't miss this.
- You've got the pool party, right? - Wrong.
Just because you married my husband faster than a sandwich doesn't give you rights.
Don't ever try to turn my son against me.
- You Coming, superstar? - I can't, Mum. I'm really sorry.
- I've come all this way to see you. - Come on, mate, let's go.
You guys stay as long as you like.
Cuddle, puddle.
- Thank you for saving me. - My pleasure.
Bye-bye, Swaziland!
We're all buggered All busted and bewildered
We've all got to get our arses out of here
They Don't want us to rule or cause a rumpus
They just want to kick our arses out of here
We're all buggered All busted and bewildered
Take it off!
This is it.
- She's minute. - Isn't she just marvellous?
- Not quite Cheltenham, is it? - I wish my mum was alive to see me.
No more lah-di-dah, hoity-toity, hooty-snooty, wah-wah any more.
- Wasn't that just incredible? - Incredible.
What do you think this little piece of metal is worth, Popeye?
A big pile of money?
No.
Just a lifetime, old boy. My lifetime.
- You deserve it, Dad. - Bollocks.
- We are so proud of you. - Bollocks.
Goddamn it.
I can't feel... I can't feel my bloody arm.
Go and lie down, honey. I'm gonna call Dr Zim.
- Come on. - No, I'm fine, really.
Don't panic. I'm fine, really.
He won't be able to speak for much longer.
Pressure on the brain will be too great.
Therefore, I propose that we operate immediately,
try to remove the tumour,
buy him a little more time.
What are you saying, Dr Zim?
At best, we are talking about just another couple of months.
To what?
To live.
So... we've decided to join forces.
- What about your wife? - Bolted, I'm afraid.
Staying in Blighty.
You'll never guess where we're headed.
Rhodesia. Isn't that something?
I wonder, would you tell me exactly whereabouts...?
- She doesn't know. - Sory, Lady H, he's still asleep.
Terrible business. One just has to brace oneself. Where's the American?
Whatever you have to say, say it and say it fast.
Look, I shan't pretend there's been any love lost between us.
I've come to apologise as I won't be attending the funeral. Don't do them.
- I'd hate you to think I snubbed it. - He's not dead yet. Get out.
The Director-General of the BBC. They wanted something different,
so I popped down to a little agency in the Charring Cross Road.
It was called Bona Performers.
Anybody there?
Hello I'm Julian. This is my friend Sandy.
- We're Bona Performers. - Bona performers we are.
It's Mr Horne How nice to vada your jolly old eek again.
What brings you trolling in here?
I've been asked to organise a cabaret for the BBC on the 15th.
I was wondering if you could fix me up.
Yes duckie.
No we'd be glad to fix you up any time.
BBC is it?
You want something a bit risqué for that mob. How about Queenie?
What does Queenie do?
She does strip-tease with a difference.
Normally she's the bearded lady...
Take my watch.
Thank you, Popeye.
I never stopped loving your mother.
So we say farewell to Mahlaganipani.
Five friends was his measure of wealth.
And judging by the numbers around me, he was indeed a very rich man.
Toodle-pip, sweetie.
I loved him so much.
I know, Gwennie. I know.