Who Done It The Singing Detective

'I cannot now distinguish between the train that brought my mother and me to London

'and the one which took us back. Which took me back, I mean.

'But there was something odd about that journey,

-'something I still dream about.'

-Where's your Mum? Your lovely Mum?

-In the ground.

-Oh, yes?

Yes.

Covered in dirt? That were always on the cards. Covered in the old dirt.

Her legs and all, eh?

You did it, didn't you? It's your doing, Sonny Jim.

All your doing.

# After you've gone

# And left me crying

# After you've gone

# There's no denying

# You'll feel blue

# You'll feel sad

# You'll miss the bestest pal You've ever had

# There'll come a time

# Now don't forget it

# There'll come a time

# When you'll regret it

# So-ome day

# When you grow lonely

# Your heart will break like mine

# And you'll want me only

# After you've gone

-# After you've gone away-ay. #

-Philip!

# You'll miss the bestest pal You've ever had. #

No.

'But I tell you, there was something odd about that journey, something not right.

'Something I still dream about. I saw the scarecrow.'

Scarecrow?

Scarecrow.

I'm sorry. Go on.

A scarecrow in a field by the railway.

I dreamt about that thing last night. It had got out of the field.

Uh-uh?

Even at the time, from the train, going to London and coming back,

looking out of the train window,

I had a strong feeling it was alive - and watching.

-Watching?

-Me. Watching me.

-So it has eyes?

-What?

-Whose eyes?

-Whose face?

-This is a scarecrow, not a...

But if it's watching you... Why?

-What for? What does it think you've done?

-This is a dream, right?

-Right.

-The face! I know it but I can't quite...

-Is it your mother?

-What?

-Your mother, is it her face?

-No!

How did she die?

She killed herself.

How?

River. In the river.

Are you...? Is that REALLY so?

What do you mean?

You have a young woman fished out of the river in your detective story.

So?

I'm just a little surprised.

-Is it likely that you'd duplicate such a traumatic event in your own life...?

-The face!

I know who it is!

-I'm sorry?

-She used to frighten me, the bitch!

-Your mother?

-No, the teacher in the village school. Pointing that finger.

-God rot her nasty old bones!

-Aren't you being a little...?

You just don't know writers. They'll use anything, anybody. They'll eat their own young.

So will rabbits when disturbed.

Once I did something bad, I mean nasty, really disgusting, at school, at the primary school.

I was nearly caught.

I was in for it - and bad. But I blamed somebody else.

I pointed the finger elsewhere.

Long ago and far away.

I've never doubted since what people are really made of. We all have blood on our teeth.

-'Tell me, there's a good boy.'

-It was Mark Binney.

Mark Binney.

-No, Miss, it wasn't.

-Come out to the front.

-No, Miss. No!

Come here, boy.

Philip, you may go back to your desk for the while.

Thank you, Philip.

Miss, twasn't me, Miss. Honest!

Honest, Miss!

We'll see about that, won't we, my boy? We are going to find out.

We are going to find out if it takes us the rest of the day.

Yes, Barbara?

Him was lurking by the big tree.

HE!

-He WAS, Miss.

-Oh, but Miss...

Be quiet! Did he go into the school?

Yes, Miss. And Miss... > < Go on.

Him told... He told I...

< ME! How many times...

He told me, Miss. > < He told you what?

He told me that he was going to...

< Barbara!

Him said he was going to do his nasty...on the table, Miss!

I saw him, Miss. And me, Miss? So did I.

I saw him, Miss. And I saw him as well. I did too, Miss.

Oh, Miss, tisn't true. Honest, Miss, tisn't true.

'I sat at my desk, perjurer, charlatan,

'and watched and listened as one after another

'they nailed that poor lad to my story.'

I've not seriously doubted since that afternoon that ANY lie will receive instant corroboration

and instant collaberation

if the maintenance of it results in the public enjoyment of someone else's humiliation or pain.

Oh, God, she beat him.

That poor boy, she beat him.

The vicious bitch!

Interestingly,

what is interesting...

is the lad himself was completely overwhelmed by the evidence.

He was a backward boy,

although we didn't think in those terms at the time amongst ourselves.

I mean, I used to see him sometimes in the woods. He'd be running.

He was almost always running.

"What bist thou doing, Mark?" I'd say. "Training," he'd answer. Just that.

"Training for what?"

The poor little sod came in the end to believe that he had done it.

"Yes, Miss. Yes, Miss."

That he had done what?

Shat on the teacher's table.

It has of course occurred to you that you, yourself, were in extreme distress at the time?

I once told the story to a man who used to lived in the same village.

We were laughing about it, you know. Ho, ho ho(!)

"I wonder," I said, "whatever became of Mark Binney?"

That was my victim, Mark Binney.

"Don't you know?" he said.

He looked at me with an odd sort of glint, nasty, the way you do.

"Mark's in the loony bin," he said. "Been there for years.

"A complete nutter."

"Yes, Miss."

"You DID, didn't you?" "Yes, Miss."

"You came back and you did this FILTHY thing!"

"Yes, Miss."

"You are a filthy, wicked, horrible, little..."

I'm sorry.

Don't be.

Stand up!

-What?

-You can. You can do it.

-You think so?

-Now or never.

Now or never.

Wait. I want to make sure these wheels are locked. Don't want you skeetering all over the floor.

That would be rather untidy.

Right, go ahead.

"Into each life some rain must fall."

-Metaphysics?

-Music.

That's it.

Ow.

# Into each life Some rain must fall

# But too much is falling In mi-i-ine

# Into each heart Some tears must fall

# But some day The sun will shi-i-ine

# Some folks can lose the blues in their hearts

# But when I think of you Another shower starts. #

# Into each life Some rain must fall

# But too much, too much Is falling in mi-i-ine

# Into each heart Some tears must fall

# But some day The sun will shi-i-ine

-# Some folks can lose The blues in their hearts... #

-No, no, no.

# But when I think of you Another shower starts. #

-What do you think?

-I think you been off the love apples, man.

Whoa! No hang-gliding!

No, I can do it myself.

Yipp-ee!

Geronimo.

ORCHESTRA PLAYS "PUTTING ON THE RITZ"

TELEPHONE RINGS

Turn it down.

Put it off. OFF.

Featherwheel. Who's calling?

Hi! How are things with you?

Around midnight. No, that's OK.

What?!

Fantastic!

Obviously.

'Delighted, yes. Thank you.'

'No, that's no problem.'

I can be in L.A. at a day's notice.

Yeah! Very exciting indeed!

Uh-huh.

Mm, you mean the scene in the dance hall?

The bar and the balcony.

No, I think you have a point. It's too...enigmatic.

Ehm...not clear. (Piss off!)

No, I can hear you fine.

Yes, just too...too...

Exactly! No, I can put that right. Patch and mend, you know.

'Sure. I have all the chain of title documents.'

Now it's a deal, I'll Skypak them to you first thing.

There's my title to the option on the book and to my screenplay.

Look, the other thing, the casting...

Oh, sure!

Well, I think it should be Nicola Marlow because...

Nicola Marlow.

Well, she's done quite a lot over here.

Because that's my understanding.

Who?

Oh, fabulous!

That's fantastic!

I mean, if we could get HER...

My God!

That's WONDERFUL!

You obviously have more experience of these things than I have.

It's basically your money, you know, control-wise.

'I'll see you very soon then.

'Fine. Thank you.

'Thank YOU! Bye.'

You cheap little bastard.

You cheap little bastard.

Oh, Nicola, listen. I have no power here. Listen!

No. YOU listen.

-I

-brought Philip's script to you.

-I

-conned him into signing away the rights for a tenth of your share.

You don't think I'm trying to cheat on you?

You'll get what we agreed.

No, it's not for the money. It's NOT for the money.

-I

-play it. It is MY part.

Me!

We agreed, Mark.

We agreed.

You know we can't control casting.

NO! I don't bloody well know!

"Advice and consultation." That's what we got, that's what anybody gets. I'm not Spielberg!

-Advice and consultation.

-That wasn't our deal.

It is MY part. I play it. We agreed.

It is my BIGGEST CHANCE!

Honey! Don't you think you're just a teeny bit too old now?

'Honey!'

Don't you think you're just a teeny bit too old now?

Oh!

Perhaps.

A teeny bit.

Yes.

A teensy, weensy millimetre or so nearer the garbage heap. Oh, yes.

There are a few inky-dinky lines here and there

on this dried-up parchment rather badly stretched over my crumbling bones. See?

And my eyes, LOOK!

Bleared and bloodshot.

And my mouth, see? Look how it drools?

-Stop it now.

-The sag of it. The CREAK of it!

-The USED-UPNESS of it!

-OK. Enough. I'm sorry.

First, you oh-so-casually throw away my one great chance.

Then you dig into my sense of...

my...

of my... You're a KILLER!

My God! You're a killer!

You smash up people's lives!

You are rotten with your own bile!

You think you're smart but really, you're VERY sad

because you use your illness as a weapon against other people

and as an excuse for not being properly human. Eugh!

You disgust me, you sick little creep!

You poisonous, malformed, cynical OAF!

You...!

Having a good time, are we?

Of course, I'm having a good time.

-Why are you not IN the bed?

-Because I stood up on my own two feet.

-You didn't.

-I did.

-Well done!

-I'll be walking as far as those doors soon.

-Don't overdo it.

-But that's really nice.

-"Nice" is not the word.

You should be like the disciples when Our Lord walked on the water.

-Can you stand up while I grease you?

-I think I can stand up again.

-I'm not sure for how long.

-I don't expect you to. I'm just glad to see you're improving.

-You're the nicest person I've met in a long time.

-You haven't been anywhere in a long time.

As well as the most beautiful.

Your eyes.

What about them?

-Your mouth.

-Listen.

-The way your head joins your neck.

-I brought you a fresh tub of...

Stop it, please. Don't be silly.

-Now I look at you properly, I can see what you are.

-Oh, can you now?

-You are the girl in all those songs.

-What songs?

The songs. The bloody, bloody songs.

What are you talking about?

-The songs you hear coming up the stair.

-Sorry?

When you are a child. When you are supposed to be asleep. THOSE songs.

S...s...ss...

Songs.

ORCHESTRA PLAYS "THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU"

# The very thought of you

# And I forget to do

# The little or-din-ary things

# That everyone ought to do

# I'm living in a kind of day-dream

# I'm happy as a king

# And foolish though it may seem

# To me-e-e, that's everything

# The mere idea of you

# The longing here for you

-# You'll never know... #

-Grandad.

Christ! You made me jump.

Sorry.

Don't do that, boy.

# I see your face In every flower

# Your eyes In the stars above

# It's just the thought of you

# The very thought of you, my love. #

# It's just the thought of you

# The very thought of you

# M-y-y-y lo-o-ve. #

-Hello, Philip.

-Hello, Dad.

Ant got enough for the bus, o'butty. Sorry. Pay day tomarra.

-Don't mind walking.

-'Bout another five mile, I reckon.

-Seven.

Aye, seven.

Did you see her?

-Yes.

-After, I meant. After the...accident.

Yes.

-Lovely, was her?

-Yes.

-Peaceful like?

-Yes.

-Tired, bist?

-No.

-I love you, Philip. I love you, o'butt, with all my heart.

-Shh!

-What?

-Somebody might hear us.

-What?

-Some bugger might be listening. Keep tha quiet!

What d'you mean? There's no-one here.

-And even if there was...

-Ssht!

It's only a scarecrow.

Him can't hurt tha.

Ding dong dell,

Pussy's in the well.

KNOCKING AT DOOR

# Ding Dong Dell Pussy's in the well

# Who pushed him in?

# Who pushed him in?

# Ding Dong Dell

# Ding Dong Dell... #

POLICE SIREN

WHISTLES

You'll hurt yourself.

I said you'll hurt yourself. What?

I said... I know what you said.

I said, you'll hurt yourself. I heard.

All this activity. What activity?

Whistling. Yeah.

Talk. Why don't you?

Just a word. The odd nod, now and again.

You'll be discharged soon. Tomorrow.

Who said so? Tomorrow. I'm going tomorrow.

Is that definite? Yes.

But who shall I talk to?

You can have this.

I prefer HUMAN intercourse. You dirty old devil.

Reginald! If you let me finish it, you can have it.

"I wandered lonely as a cloud..." If you stop nattering!

Poetry is more my style. I don't want corpses all over the place. Not in THIS place.

Wonder who'll go next.

Out, do you mean? DEAD, I mean.

Don't. Don't!

It's not very legible and it hurts.

For the first time in my life, I'm going to have to think about the value of every word.

-That's dangerous.

-That rules out the newspapers, doesn't it?

-Except The Sun and The Star. They don't have words. I could work for Mr Murdoch.

-Can I see?

-Can you read it?

-Mmm.

"Upward strokes and down..." What's this?

Ah..."downward slopes and a comma curls, making me hold..."

Yes, I can read it.

-Making me hold what?

-My breath. Words. Words make me hold my breath.

-I see.

-Who knows what you'll say? Who knows where they've been?

Keep at it. You're doing very well.

-Suppose they got together and ganged up on us?

-Who?

-Words.

-Well, I'll pop in and see you some time tomorrow afternoon.

-What made you say that?

-What do you mean?

-If I wrote it down: "Well, dash, I'll pop in

"and see you some time tomorrow afternoon." Oh, it doesn't matter.

-Keep practising, that's thing.

-"Keep practising, comma.

-"That's the thing, full stop."

-Jolly good!

I presume you made your call, Mr Binney.

I hope you did. If it was long-distance, don't worry about the bill.

So now we wait.

We wait...and we see.

(Mr Binney?)

(Are you here, sir? At home, are you?)

(Put on the light, why don't we?)

(There's blood.) What? Shhh!

Sorry.

Oh! Shhh! Shhh your bloody self.

Where's the switch? It's usually on the wall.

The people I have to work with!

Why do you always say that?

Oh, the poor bugger.

I thought his voice sounded funny.

What? On the phone, when he rang.

Of course his voice sounded funny. There's a knife in his throat! All right. All right.

What are all these papers? Perhaps it's the... Yeah.

I don't know what to do. I don't have the faintest idea.

It's just... Yeah?

I don't know. I mean, who do we go to?

The top. What?

Go to the top. Whitehall, it'll have to be.

We're supposed to be in Intelligence.

Yes. We're supposed to use this, up here. The old grey mare.

Hallo?

What do these bits of paper say? That's a point.

­ Well, what does it say?

God Almighty.

What is it?

It would take a more cleverer man than me to understand it. And one with better grammar.

What? "More better," you would say.

Look 'ere, smart arse. You little shit. I mean,

nit-picking at a time like this! OK, I spoke out of turn.

I probably went to a better school that you did. Oh yeah? Where?

Don't you...

That's it. That's the point.

You put your finger right on it.

Have I? How do you mean?

We don't know a bloody thing about our...

Who?

Why? What?

I mean, it's all a blank, innit?

Not filled in, do you mean? Padding.

Still... > No "still" about it. It's a fact!

A hard and fast fact! And you can't argue about it.

We're padding. Like a couple of bleedin' sofas!

You never use my name, do you? Do you ever use mine?

Oh, God, you're completely...

You're completely...

There's blood on this paper, all over it.

What does it say?

It says...

It says, "Who killed Roger Ackroyd?"

Who?

Christ knows. Is he a foreigner?

Do we know him? Is he on our list? I don't know him from Adam.

But it's a clue.

Everything...

All things mean something.

All things point. Weren't we taught that in the Depot? Absorb, ponder, act. One, two, three.

That singer. Perhaps he done it, the crooner. I wouldn't be totally surprised.

We lost him, didn't we? The bugger.

WE lost HIM,

but has HE found US?

Search the place.

Every room. Every cupboard.

Every nook, every cranny.

If he's here, we'll find the bugger.

'Philip!'

Philip, where be ya? Philip?

Philip!

Where bist? Philip!

Come on, o'butty!

Philip!

Where bist? Philip!

Doesn't trust anybody again.

Doesn't give thy love.

Hide in theeself or they'll die. They'll die and they'll hurt you.

Hide! Hide!

CRY OF ANGUISH

'Dad...?'

Dad.

Oh, there thou bist.

Ay. Here I be.

'Doesn't give thy love.

'Hide in theeself or they'll die.

'They'll die and they'll hurt you.

'Hide. Hide.'

Oh, Philip!

Philip! Philip, come back! Please! Philip!

'PHILIP!'

'PHILIP!!'

What's the loveliest word in the English language, officer?

In the sound it makes in your mouth and the shape it makes on the page. What d'you think?

Er... Fit up?

Come on, that's two words! And forget your hobbies. Now, think of the loveliest word.

-That's not my bag, now, is it?

-Well, I'll tell you. E-L-B-O-W.

Elbow.

That's very useful, an elbow.

-What?

-In my line of work.

-What have I done?

-I'm sorry, but I have bad news.

-Riot-shields to be banned?

-Your wife.

-I'm not married.

-But...

-What's happened to her? What's she done now?

-I'm referring to a Mrs Nicola Marlow.

-My ex-wife, yes.

-But I thought...

-All right. All right, my wife.

-Get on with it!

-I don't know whether you... Our enquiries indicate she has been living with

-a Mr Mark Finney, sir.

-Binney, did you say?

-Finney, sir. F for Freddie. A film producer, it seems.

-Go on.

Early today, the Hammersmith station received a distraught call from Mrs Marlow. She said she had...

She said she had stuck a knife in the throat of this Mr Finney

-and that this Mr Finney was dead.

-Dead?

-Dead.

-With a D?

-What?

Go on.

-We sent a patrol round.

-Where is this?

-The Mall by the bridge. Hammersmith.

Mrs Marlow was sitting on the stairs in a state of extreme distress, sir.

She had blood all over her. The room upstairs was as she had described. Stabbed with a large kitchen knife.

-A 'Abitat knife.

-Abitat?

-Tottenham Court Road.

Where?

Tottenham Court...

Oh...yes. In the throat, sir. In HIS throat. Sticking out of...

-Jesus! But...

-Naturally, we read your wife her rights, sir.

She was taken into custody where she was "docile and co-operative".

The arresting officer had no reason to suspect but...when she was taken to the patrol car,

she suddenly made a run for it, taking the arresting officer very much by surprise, sir,

particularly as she was in a state of near-undress.

What are you... What are you saying?

Half-naked.

Oh, God. I've got to wake up. I've got to wake up.

She managed to get on to the bridge itself...

Whereupon she threw herself in the bleedin' river.

Maximum embarrassment all round.

Yes.

Wake up.

-What?

-Wake your bloody self up.

Ye-es.

What's wrong? What's all this noise?

I'm sorry.

-You go back to sleep.

-I'm sorry.

Go on, back to sleep.

You all right, Pop?

Oh, good.

What's the loveliest word in the English language? In its sound.

The sound it makes in your mouth and the shape it makes on the page. Mm? What do you think?

-Or have I asked you this before?

-The loveliest?

Rose.

-No, primrose.

-No, no.

-E-L-B-O-W.

-Come on, drink.

What's the matter?

(No.)

I didn't mean it.

I didn't.

I always thought they knew their way around.

-What did he want?

-The women's ward.

-What?

-His mother was brought in yesterday.

-But...

-It was quite lucky him walking in here, though. He recognised a friend.

-What's the matter?

-Nothing.

-Come on!

'Ere! Well, well, well.

Hello. Hello, OFFICER. Yeah, well.

Are you a reading man?! Yeah. Well.

Is this a Janet and John? Who?

"He didn't believe the human body could be so crimsonly liquid.

"Blood had gushed out of the severed vein as if it had been longing to escape..." Gawd!

It's good. They say this doesn't corrupt!

There you are. What is there to say, officer? It's good!

He reads this, then pinches a video-cassette machine.

I've paid my debt to society. I think different, my lad.

Keep your nose clean. God Almighty.

What you in for? Heart.

You ain't got one. Oh, come on! I'll be watching YOU.

Berk. Who have I been next to all this time? What sort of person?!

A HUMAN person. But what have you done?

Why are the police so interested in you? Mind your own business.

Keep your nose out of it. Good heavens!

Is that the way to speak to me? Reginald! Reginald!

You're hot, Mr Marlow.

Don't you go and get complications when you're doing so well.

Drink plenty of water. You hear?

Now, let's see what's going on here.

You've been overdoing it again.

Hey! Where are you?

'Too many people were asking the same question. And they weren't wanting to polish my shoes.

# If you go down in the woods today

# You're sure of a big surprise

# If you go down in the woods today

# You'd better go in disguise

# For every bear that ever there was

# Will gather there for certain because

# Today's the day The Teddy Bears have their picnic.

# Beneath the trees Where nobody sees

# They'll hide and seek As long as they please

# That's the way The Teddy Bears have their picnic!

# Picnic time for Teddy Bears

# The little Teddy Bears Are having a lovely time today

# Watch them! Catch them unawares!

# And see them picnic On their holiday

# See them gaily gad about

# They love to play and shout They never have any ca-a-ares

# At six o'clock their mummies and daddies

# Will take them home to bed

# Because they're tired little Teddy Bears

# If you go down in the woods today

# You'd better not go alone

# It's lovely down in the woods today, but safer to stay at home

# For every bear that ever there was

# Will gather there for certain because

# Today's the day The Teddy Bears have their picnic. #

Look!

I did it. I walked!

I can walk! Look at me, everybody!

He's bellowing again. It's nice to be able to walk.

Yes, but you don't have to make a song and dance about it.

< Philip, what are you doing? What do you think you're doing?

Walking.

Supposing you fall over? Hold on to me. You're not ready for this.

Hold on to YOU?

There are not many others about now.

# Be-bop-a-loo-bop. #

Yes. But isn't it about time you climbed down out of your tree?

Well, one thing's for sure, I'm going to...

I'm going to walk right out of this place. I'm not going to stay here.

-But are you going to stay in this condition?

-No.

-I don't just mean your skin and joints.

-No.

You nasty old sod.

Mr Marlow! What are you doing?

-What do you think you're doing?

-Walking.

-What if you fell? You can't walk on your own yet. Take it in stages.

-No.

-Now, steady.

-By tomorrow...

-What about tomorrow?

-By tomorrow I'm going to walk out on my own two feet.

-Will you?

-Hey! Nicola isn't in the river.

-What?

I told you, didn't I?

Can I have some help here?

Oh, you're too heavy.

Can I have some help here?

All right, Nurse.

He's too heavy for you, Nurse.

Gently!

Sorry. Sorry.

Take him back to his bed. Over there.

Gently does it, sunshine.

It's a giant leap for a cripple(!)

This is not the time...!

Sit him on his bed. Gently!

-Thanks. Thank you.

-Yes, thank you.

Good job we came. You're telling me. And just who we came to see.

You're telling me.

These are not visiting hours. They are NOW.

Bugger the rules. Bugger the regulations.

Is it because I'm hot? I don't know who or WHAT you are.

Disowning us?

Bloody orphans, are we? I'm sorry...

I MUST ask you to leave.

Leave! We're fed up, lady! We get all the shit!

-And ONE shooter between us.

-What?

Bang! Bang! And why? What for?

Our roles are unclear. No names, even.

Nurse!

Nu-urse!

NU-U-URSE!

-Where are you going?

-Home.

But that's off the page, isn't it?

You're going nowhere. Not until we settle this.

Settle what?

WHO we are! WHAT we are.

-That's right. That's absolutely right.

-No, no-o...

-Come on.

-Please, don't.

-Tell us.

I BEG you, don't do that, Please... No!

Aaah!

Aaaah, no-o! Aa-aahh.

A-a-a-ah! NO-O!

-Own up.

-Please, don't!

Aaa-aah!

We'll tear you apart.

-Limb from limb.

-Aa-aah! NO !

Speak English. Come on.

TELL us.

Help! He-elp! HELP me. Somebody...!

Help me-e-e!

'Please...

'No, please... Aaahh!

'Stop, please.... Sto-op.

'Somebody, HE-E-ELP me, please...

'Aaa-aah!

'Aaa-aah! Please...'

'Please...! Please...he-elp!'

'He-elp me... Help ME!'

-I

-don't want to walk any mean streets. But there's no money in picking bluebells.

Am I right, or am I right?

'He-elp' Can you hear that guy?

You'd think someone was twisting his arm.

What I say is, when you're dealing with the Devil,

then praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.

Am I not wrong? Neither am I wrong.

- The warbler! - Use the shooter

Jesus!

Jesus!

Nu-urse?

Mr Marlow...! GUNSHOT

Really...

Please...not me.

Please...

No.

You CAN'T. No...

No. Wait.

-(Don't shoot. Please don't.)

-That's MURDER.

(No, please...don't.)

Will you listen to that? Murder, he says.

I call it pruning.

Only one of us is going to walk out of here sweeter than the roses.

No-o-o.

Please!

Please don't.

Don't shoot.

Please...

You could say we'd been partners - him and me,

like Laurel and Hardy, or Fortnum and Mason.

But, HELL, this was one sick fellow from way back when.

And I reckon I'm man enough to tie my own shoelaces now.

Open.

Haven't you finished that silly book yet?

Last page.

H'mph! A giant leap for mankind, my boy(!)

Thank you, nurse.

Got my hat, then?

Cheers, Pop.

Goo...by...

..Bye, everybody.

See you. Bye.

Cheerio. Bye.

Good luck.

Keep your noses clean.

REGINALD: "And - her - soft - red - lips

"clam - clam - CLAMPED...

"them-selves - on - his."

"The - end."

Lucky devil.

VERA LYNN: # We'll meet again

# Don't know where Don't know whe-en

# But I KNOW we'll meet again

# Some sunny da-ay... #

INAUDIBLE

# Keep smiling through

# Just like you alwa-ays do

# Till the blue skies chase those dark clouds

# Far awa-ay

# And I will just say hello

# To the folks that you know

# Tell them you won't be lo-ong

# They'll be happy to know that as I saw you go

# You were si-inging this song

# We'll meet again

# Don't know where

# Don't know whe-en... #

When I grow up...

I be gonna be a detective.

#..But I KNOW we'll meet again

# Some sunny da-ay. #

BIRDSONG FILLS THE AIR

BIRDSONG ECHOES IN CORRIDORS

Subtitles by Dorothy Moore BBC Scotland 1986