Did you hear what Harold the Wise said about the trip to Rhodesia?
"I would be very, very, very disappointed."
"I would be very, very, very disappointed, and so would my whippet."
- Steak tartare, sir. - Thank you very much indeed.
So, Senor Besselli, I have news.
John Pardoe has practically confirmed it.
Grimond is stepping down.
One more year, 18 months at the most.
I would be "very, very, very disappointed" if that's not true.
What can I say but, congratulations?
Just think, though, given the balance of power,
the next leader of the Liberal Party could be Deputy Prime Minister.
Well, quite.
I never did care very much for the word deputy.
Well, I'll be there for you, all the way.
Finance is going to be a problem, of course, as ever.
Well, I'd love to help, but I'm not exactly a millionaire.
And I'm stuck here in an office with a leaky roof
and I can't even afford my own staff.
Tell me, what's that secretary of yours like, Elizabeth?
- Any good? - Oh, yes. Particularly in bed.
Pedro!
I adore you!
You and your monstrous appetites!
Weren't you a lay preacher?
Well, obviously you were, literally.
Call it a hobby. Some people play golf, I like screwing.
Between the two of us, when I was young,
I was so desperate, I'd go looking on the spear side.
Are you telling me... that you...
...were usable?
I'm a little bit so, yes.
If that's not too shocking.
Peter Pedro Bessell von Bessellbach!
Well, out of anyone in this room,
I'm probably the least shocked of all, if you understand my meaning.
I think so.
It's hardly a great surprise now, is it?
I... suppose not.
What would you say you are, vis-a-vis men and women?
What are you? 50-50?
More like 80-20.
I mean, 80% for the ladies.
Yeah.
Yes, I call myself 80%, but... 80%... gay.
Gosh, I'm not sure that word's ever been said
within these walls before.
Not in that context.
My wife insists that gay means happy.
I think she's absolutely right.
And I intend to be very happy,
very many times in my life.
And very much so with him.
Very, very, very much so.
Careful, now. Keep it discreet.
I'm not sure any boy's worth ending up in prison for.
You protecting me, Pedro?
If I must, Jeremy,
- then I will. - At last!
Thank God, someone to protect me from myself.
I am going to order some port, to celebrate.
Peter, we are nothing but a pair of old queens.
To... Her Majesty.
Her Majesty.
Sync and corrections by btsix www.addic7ed.com
Morning, Jonty. Morning, Jeremy.
Morning, sir.
It is my duty to inform the Prime Minister
that if he continues to restrict immigration,
he is staunching the lifeblood of this country...
Hear, hear!
And, and fuelling the rise of the "Keep Britain White" campaign.
Citizens from all over the Commonwealth
deserve a free and safe right of entry, or else
the Government may find that its White Paper is very aptly named.
- Bessell speaking. - Pedro, I have a problem.
Meet me at The Ritz, 12 o'clock.
It was delivered last week to my mother,
and she read it, every single word, all 17 pages.
"From Norman Josiffe?"
You mean, he's one of your...
"Jeremy and I have had a homosexual relationship..."
Oh, my God, your mother read this?!
What does he want? Money?
The vast sum of £30.
He can't even blackmail properly.
Well, who is he, exactly?
He is, um...
...well, when I first met him, he was...
...very heaven.
Good morning.
And a very, very fine morning it is, too.
Good morning, sir. Pardon me.
Jeremy Thorpe. I've come to stay for the weekend.
I'm a guest of Mr Van de Vater.
I know, sir. He said. He was very excited.
Quite a special visitor.
Member of Parliament and all of that.
- What's your name? - Norman, sir.
Another Norman?
Mein host, Norman Van de Vater and Norman...
- Josiffe. - Josiffe!
- What is that, French? - Um, I don't know, sir.
Really?
You've never so much as enquired about your own surname?
It's just, um, my mother married a Josiffe,
but he's not my father.
Ah, complicated, yes.
Sorry.
No, no, no, no. My fault, my fault. It's private.
Well, I'd best get back to work.
Will you be riding this weekend, sir?
Oh, yeah, yeah, definitely.
It's a great... great passion of mine.
I can prepare the horse myself.
What level are you at?
What kind of mount would suit you best?
Well, just... the right sort of mount for me, really.
It depends.
What about you, Norman? You're the great expert, I see.
It's all I've ever wanted to do, sir.
Working with horses.
Ever since I was a kid.
My family wasn't... We had our problems.
All sorts of nonsense. It was my own fault, really,
but I could always find my way to the stables
and, um... be happy.
- I talk too much. Everyone says. - No, no, no. It's marvellous.
Where are you?
Don't let anyone ever tell you to stop.
- You're very kind, sir, thank you. - Jeremy. What's my name?
Jeremy.
I wonder, it's just a thought, but if you ever
move on from Norman,
Norman, and you find yourself in London,
why don't you get in touch?
Would that be all right?
Yes, sir. Jeremy.
Thank you.
Right. Well, I must... trot on.
And, lo and behold, just over a year later...
- Yeah! - Excuse me, Mr Thorpe.
A visitor for you, Central Lobby. Says you're expecting him.
A Mr Norman Josiffe.
Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes.
Right away.
Graham. Jeremy.
Norman.
I'm so sorry. I couldn't think where else to go.
I hope you don't mind.
- No, no. - Oh, sorry.
- Mind Mrs Tish. - I certainly will. Hello, Mrs Tish.
Well, I am grotesquely busy, but we might have time for a quick confab.
Oh, he said we're not allowed in.
I'm sorry, Mr Thorpe, but you know the rules.
No dogs allowed inside the Palace of Westminster.
Now, that is true, except, as you well know,
Charles II issued an edict
allowing King Charles Spaniels inside the domain,
and while this might be technically a Jack Russell,
- is that right? - That's right.
You know what dogs are like,
and I think that some roving spaniel
might have had his way with Mrs Tish's mother.
Which means that she has royal blood, so I must ask you,
make way, please. Come.
Thank you.
Complete fantasy, that Charles II thing.
There is no such law.
But so many people have said it over the years,
it's assumed to be true,
which is a very good thing to remember in life, I think.
I just had to get away, and I thought of you.
Mr Van de Vater said the most terrible things to me, really,
I've never heard a gentleman talk like that.
Well, strictly between ourselves, he's not really a gentleman at all.
It's a charade, his entire life.
His real name is Norman Vater, from Wales.
Well, he adored you. Absolutely. Oh, my God.
"Jeremy this, Jeremy that."
Every time you wrote to him, he'd read it out loud.
Like what?
Anything in particular?
You sent a postcard on the day Princess Margaret got engaged
to Anthony Armstrong-Jones,
and you wrote to Mr Van de Vater,
"Of the happy couple," Jeremy says, "what a pity.
"I'd rather hoped to marry one and seduce the other."
But it wasn't so much that as what he did with the postcards.
I'll keep this safe and sound,
add it to my little collection.
Letters from the great and powerful.
He put them in a drawer.
I didn't know he kept them, no.
Well, he doesn't any more.
I took them. When I walked out.
Come, Mrs Tish.
But that is
exceedingly kind of you.
Whatever would you do that for?
Some of those are personal and a bit...
...cheeky, if you don't mind my saying.
And, um, if they fell into the wrong hands...
...I wouldn't want you getting into trouble.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
It's funny, his name's Norman
and my name's Norman,
and those are all, "Dear Norman",
and I used to imagine...
...they were mine.
As if a man like you would ever write to a man like me.
Well, it's not impossible.
Really?
- Can I have some water? - Yes, of course, yes.
Thank you.
These pills are new.
I was on Longactil, but they said to try Elavil instead.
Because I wasn't very well in the head.
I'm sure you guessed that already.
I was in a clinic... for psychiatric patients.
- Is that all right? - Mm, yeah, of course. Of course.
And they were very good, they really were,
and I'm very grateful, but then they said,
"There's not much more we can do for you,"
so I said, "Well, what do I do now?"
and they said, "That's not up to us," and I said, "Well..."
And that's when I thought of you.
And with a view to what, exactly?
Well, the thing is, when I ran away from Mr Van de Vater,
I had to leave my National Insurance card behind,
and I can hardly ask for it back, can I? Not now.
Which means I won't be able to work,
and if I can't get work then I can't get a place to live,
and if I don't have a permanent address,
then I can't get my prescription,
so I'm stuck, Jeremy, I'm completely stuck, and...
...I've got nowhere to stay.
Whoa!
You took him to your mother's house?
But why?
I thought it would be fun.
- Who might this be? - Ursula, this is Peter Freeman.
He is a cameraman.
He's coming with me on that expedition to Malta.
I said we could give him a bed for the night, hmm?
Five, six, seven, eight.
Faster.
They say you're part of it,
this committee regarding peerages.
Oh, no, I'm not on the committee, no, no.
But it exists because of you. You facilitated it.
I just asked the right question at the right time, that's all.
For whose benefit?
Anthony Wedgwood Benn?
I knew him at Oxford. He is a perfectly decent chap.
The man's a trot.
- Think of the bigger picture. - Thank you very much, Jenny.
If you sit on that committee and steer it correctly,
then one day you could claim the ancient Barony of Thorpe.
- Wouldn't that be marvellous? - I suppose it would, yes.
You would be elevated, darling.
- Elevated. - Mm. Mm.
There you go, Mrs Tish. Lie down.
Good girl.
Night-night, Mrs Tish.
Shh, shh!
There's nothing wrong, is there?
Why would there be?
I don't know.
Did you read the book?
- Well, not yet. - I think you'll like it.
Don't look so scared.
- I'm not. - Yes, you are.
You're like a frightened little rabbit.
Is that what you are?
Are you... my little bunny? Hmm?
Oh, what's this?
Well, dear, dear. What's all this?
What's all this?
I'm sorry.
Well, you've had a nice time, haven't you?
Then why so sad?
No-one's ever been this kind to me.
"No-one's ever been this kind to me."
Poor little bunny rabbit.
Don't be silly. Come on.
Wipe your eyes.
That's it, that's it. Dry your face. Let me see.
And shake it off. Bluh-bluh-bluh-bluh!
- Bluh-bluh-bluh-bluh! - And again. Bluh-bluh-bluh-bluh!
- Bluh-bluh-bluh-bluh! - Much better.
Now I'm going to kiss you, and you will enjoy it.
Well, you could enjoy it a bit more.
- I can't. - Why not?
It's wrong.
Well, that's not wrong.
Now, we are going to need this, just in case.
And a good little helping of every bachelor's friend.
Just hop onto all fours, there's a good chap.
That always works best, don't you think?
- On the bed? - Yes, on the bed.
There we are.
That's it.
And remember...
...mother's room.
And then?
We did the deed, of course.
Gosh.
It's very, very good, this.
It's excellent. Quite a lot of lemon, which is rare.
Yeah. So the next time you heard from Norman was... was this?
No, no, no, no, no.
I took him straight from mother's and moved him into rooms.
Paid the rent, kept him there.
Bunny?
The march begins, and this is our story.
This is you and me.
This is... this is mankind marching towards his maker.
Feel it?
Maybe that's what Bruckner's searching for God and his heaven,
and it's ineffable.
I used to live there for a couple of months, Harrington Road.
- Rather nice houses. - Not down that end.
Five to a room. We had to go and piss in the park.
Is this your first time on a bus?
- No, it's not. - I bet it is.
Excuse me, I have been on a great many buses.
- Liar! - Well, when I was 16,
we used to have short leave, like a day out from school.
We'd come up to Paddington,
get the number 36 bus to Lord's, smuggle on bottles of beer.
- It was very wicked. - We being you and Lord Snooty?
Yes, that's right. Good old Snooty.
- How is Snooty? - He's absolutely top-hole,
ripping.
This country's application to join the Common Market
represents a huge opportunity, for growth and investment,
and not just for the bankers and businessmen in London,
they have lined their pockets enough,
but for my constituents in North Devon,
and for all the good and honest workers across the land,
Europe represents a bold new horizon,
an undertaking from which we may profit and learn,
and enrich our lives for generations to come.
"I wasn't going to say anything compromising,
but can't stop myself saying,
'I love you and can't wait to see you'.
Yours affectionately, Jeremy."
Buuuuuu-nny!
I'm left on my own all day.
Oh, for God's sake. Do you realise how busy I am?
But what am I supposed to do?!
Well, I want you to promise, if you're ever back in London,
to get in touch. Yes?
Cheers.
Maybe it's time you thought about moving on...
...doing something with your life.
What do you think, Bunny?
That dressage school, whatever happened to that?
That would be wonderful, but I can't.
It's in France.
"..In haste, Bunnies can and will go to France.
Yours affectionately, Jeremy."
But what happened to bloody France?!
They said no. Go on, how is that my fault?!
Well, I got you that other job at the stables
- and you threw that away. - I told you!
It was that man, he was vile to me!
Dare I say that if you drank a little less
- and took fewer of those pills... - Why is that?
Why do you think I need them?
Because of you, the things you've done to me.
Oh, really, what is that supposed to mean? Huh?
You have infected me, Jeremy, with the virus of homosexuality!
"You've infected me with the virus of homosexuality."
Where did he go?
God knows.
I've come to tell you about my homosexual relations
with Jeremy Thorpe MP.
I was a victim
of his lust
and appetites.
And if you ask me why it's taken me so long to come to the police,
then all I can say is that I was in thrall to the man.
That's my explanation. In thrall.
You have these as proof.
I'll give you two of the best.
Look. His handwriting, and "Bunnies".
My nickname's Bunny. That's proof enough, isn't it?
I'll keep the rest, thank you.
It's my insurance policy.
God knows what he got up to.
I thought I was rid of him, and then, out of the blue,
that, to Mother, telling her everything.
Did she believe it?
No, no, of course not.
And now he says he's taken rooms in Dublin
under the care of a Father Sweetman.
- This is where you come in. - Oh, God, doing what, exactly?
You take that thing and you confront him in Dublin.
I can't put anything in writing,
so I need you to see him in person
and warn him off, and I mean seriously,
go and put the shits up the little sod.
You tell him that that amounts to blackmail
and that he will have the full weight of the law upon his head
if he ever tries anything like that again.
And you make it very clear
that he is not to contact me ever,
he is not to talk about our former association
in any shape or form,
and he is not to write to my mother,
describing acts of anal sex,
under any circumstances whatsoever.
His name is Norman Josiffe.
I've asked him to meet me here at eight o'clock,
so it's imperative you let me know as soon as he turns up.
- Certainly, sir. Room ten, thank you. - Thank you.
Oh, God!
I called yesterday for Norman, Norman Josiffe.
Is he there?
Mr Norman Josiffe.
Norman?
Mr Bessell, I take it?
I was expecting you last night.
This is highly inconvenient. I waited a very long time.
I think you'll find, Mr Bessell, that I am not at your beck and call.
You might be a Member of Parliament,
but that gives you no authority in Ireland,
and certainly none over me. Now, what do you want?
Well, the problem is, I have to go home.
I'm only here for the one night, so you'll have to come with me
to the airport and have a word en route.
In the car. Chop chop.
My friend and colleague, JT,
insists that you cease and desist from contacting him or...
- Tell Jeremy Thorpe I don't care. - JT insists that you stop.
Jeremy Thorpe can say whatever he wants.
JT, JT! JT demands that you stop
or he will take legal action against you.
I have here in this case an extradition order from the Home Secretary.
If you don't stop, the order will be released
and you will be taken back to the United Kingdom to face trial.
- Show me. - What?
The extradition order. Show me.
- But it's in here. - Show me.
You wrote to his mother, Norman!
You can understand why he so cross, can't you?
- His own mother! - I suppose it was a bit much.
He loved me. He wrote me a letter, it said,
"I want to live on a farm with you."
I don't know, isn't that love?
Wouldn't everything be better if you just left him in the past,
like everyone does with every old lover?
Move on, find someone else.
- Wouldn't that be nice? - You called him my lover.
- Yes. - Thank you.
Look, I can help.
I can give you £5
as a weekly retainer until you're settled.
Thanks.
And you can have my telephone number,
so that if anything arises, you contact me, not him.
- You've got that? Is that clear? - I suppose so.
Good.
And you'll sort out my National Insurance card?
In what way?
Oh, he didn't tell you about that, did he?
Of course he didn't.
Mr JT and his fiddle-dee-dee.
Did he tell you my life is hell because I haven't got a card?
He promised to get me a new one, and did he? No, he didn't!
- Can't you get a new card yourself? - That's the whole point.
Technically, he was my employer, because he paid for everything,
so he's got to do it. If I don't have a National Insurance card,
I can't work, I don't get benefits, I don't exist.
- I'm like an exile here. - Well, I'll see what I can do.
No, not you, it has to be Jeremy Thorpe!
- That card is my entire identity. - You'll get your card.
- Without it, I don't exist! - All right, all right, all right!
So... a new card, five quid,
and we're agreed never to discuss these things again, yes?
- Yes. - Is that it?
- Yes. - We've covered everything?
- Yes. - Thank you.
Although...
...that letter about the farm, I kept that.
I saved it, along with 25 love letters from... JT.
And I had them all nice and safe in a suitcase,
which I then lost...
on a train...
...in Switzerland.
He did what?!
He went for a job in Berne and fell asleep, and then he
- got off the train... - Yes, but what letters?
Which ones? What letters did he mean?
Well, he described them as love letters,
written on House of Commons notepaper,
and he said you sent him a very lovely note when Mrs Tish died.
Hmm? Oh, the dog. Christ!
Bloody idiot.
Well, we've got to get those letters back.
Good morning, this is Jeremy Thorpe.
Yes, I need a number for the British Consulate in Berne, if I may.
Je cherche une valise.
Merci. Foreign Office, please.
Allo?
Lost property. Erm, property... Property perdu, s'il vous plait.
Property perdu.
- Any luck? - Nothing.
I told you I've got that American trip for the next fortnight,
but do you remember Diana Stainton?
I do.
She's working for me now. I've left her in charge.
If anyone can find it, it's her.
Diana Stainton here. Can I leave a message for Mr Thorpe?
It's the suitcase. I found it.
Hello?
Diana, darling. Are you in a gorgeous negligee?
I'm not. Are you?
Always so funny. They said you'd found that silly old suitcase.
Waiting at Victoria left luggage. I'll collect it tomorrow morning.
Just give me the details, I'll do it for you.
No, Mr Bessell asked me to find it, so it's my responsibility.
The suitcase belongs to Mr Josiffe in Dublin,
- so I'll return it to him. - Much easier if I do it.
- I disagree. - Not like you, Diana,
- saying no to a gentleman. - Goodnight, Mr Thorpe.
I'll drive you, that's what I'll do.
Can't have you traipsing round town
with a heavy suitcase, it's not right.
Are you still in that Islington lair?
- Yes. - Then I shall pick you up,
eight o'clock sharp, tomorrow morning,
there's a good girl. Cheerio.
Thank you...
Thank you very much.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just need to pop back to my flat.
I remember I've left something at home. I won't be two ticks.
If you must.
Mr Thorpe! What do you need that for?
No matter!
Mr Thorpe! That is not yours!
Oh!
Mr Thorpe, what on earth are you doing?! I'd like an answer.
Mr Thorpe! I must insist!
Mr Thorpe, open this door!
That is not your property.
Mr Thorpe, let me in right now!
Mr Thorpe!
Mr Thorpe, let me in!
Mr Thorpe!
Now, then, if you would
very kindly return that to Mr Josiffe,
I think we're done.
Splendid. Come along.
And that, I think we can safely say,
is that.
Farewell, Miss Norma Josiffe.
Farewell indeed, but promise me,
sort out that insurance card, for God's sake.
Give him something that connects us, officially?
Absolutely not, no.
Did you love him?
Oh, God.
Hmm. Sorry, old thing, but I have to wonder.
- Did you? - Well, he was a man.
But did you love him at all?
Not even once, for a moment?
Pedro, that doesn't even exist.
It does for Norman.
He seems to find it easy.
Doesn't he just? Yeah.
I wonder...
...should I envy him?
I spoke to Leo the other day.
Leo Abse, still obsessed with his bill
- to decriminalise homosexuality. - Jeremy.
- Leo. - Thought I'd catch you.
You'll have to be very, very quick.
I'm going ahead with it, into the lions' den.
A Private Member's Bill for the Commons next month.
Well, you're a brave man.
My wife says I'm brave for wearing this waistcoat.
Make no mistake, though,
I don't believe those lost souls will ever be happy,
but it's our duty in Parliament to help them.
Poor bloody queers.
My first proposal, I asked the Lord Chancellor.
- Do you know what he said? - I will refuse to sit
in any Cabinet meeting where this filthy subject
is even being discussed.
We would be licensing buggers' clubs.
I have no desire to go down in history
as the man responsible for legalising sodomy in Britain!
But then, finally, I found someone to help me.
Lord Arran.
- Boofy? - Boofy.
- Lord Arran. - Oh, call me Boofy.
- Boofy. - This way.
Now, what size are you?
A size eight, why?
It's the badgers.- Badgers?
Mm. Conservation mad.
We've given them the run of the house.
Oh, there's one! That one's Rosie.
Yes, there's a cat flap in the kitchen and in they come.
That's why you need the boots, to protect your ankles.
They bite, the little buggers. Give you tuberculosis.
- And ringworm. - Oh, terrible ringworm.
Fiona, this is Leo. Leo, this is Fiona.
- Hello. - How do you do?
And we're celebrating.
She's just achieved speeds of 81.65 mph
across Lake Windermere.
I'm sorry?
Turns out the Countess of Arran
is a champion powerboat racer.
Good Lord. That bloody Donald Campbell,
I'll catch him, the devil!
Now, boots, badgers,
and I must show you the wallabies later.
What else? Oh, yes, queers.
But thank God for your support, Boofy.
What puzzles me is that the heterosexual man
is so relentless in his attack.
We've had some dreadful letters, full of bile,
quoting Deuteronomy and Leviticus.
No-one ever mentions the Sermon on the Mount.
I had shit sent to me.
A parcel of shit. Shit in the post!
Human shit!
My secretary thought it was pate.
She said, "I threw it away, Lord Arran, it wouldn't keep."
What chance do you think we stand?
Every day, we gain more votes.
Not fast enough for some.
- Oh, goodness me. - Sweetheart...
I'm fine.
You might wonder why an old kidney like me would want to help.
But I've seen what the law can do.
My brother...
- ...the seventh Earl... - Queer as springtime.
When we were children,
in the nursery,
I'd reach out...
...every night,
held his hand until he slept, but...
...he...
...he was such a clever boy.
He translated The Three Musketeers, did you know?
The Penguin Classic.
And the deaths go on, by hanging, by poison, by gas,
men killing themselves through fear and shame.
And I don't think it's suicide.
I think it's murder.
They are murdered by the laws of the land.
And I think it's time it stopped.
Now we stand in a unique position
to change the law
and save their lives.
Have I got your vote?
And what did you say?
Well, I said yes.
Of course I said yes.
My God, what kind of man do you take me for?
It's astonishing to think, if Leo Abse wins, there will be freedom.
Those men will be free to be pitied, that's all.
I don't care what change they make to the law,
if anything about me ever became public,
I give you my word, Peter,
I would put a gun to my head and blow my brains out.
Then, I shall protect you, as ever.
- Thank you. - Not at all.
Well, I shall see you tomorrow. Enough of this nonsense.
- There's work to be done. - Exciting times ahead.
- Very, very, very exciting, yes. - "Very, very, very."
- "Very, very, very, very, very..." - Get out, come on.
Thorpe, John Jeremy, Liberal Party.
16,797.
And the leadership election
stands as follows. Mr Hooson and Mr Lubbock withdraw,
so Mr Jeremy Thorpe is elected
leader of the Liberal Party.
Thank you.
Thank you very much. Thank you.
Pedro. The best man won.
? For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow ?
? For he's a jolly good fellow ?
? And so say all of us. ?
I swear on my grandfather's sword
that I shall lead a Liberal crusade!
You're the youngest man to lead a British political party
- in more than a century. - Well, Pitt the Younger
was, well, younger. He was 24 when he became Prime Minister,
so you could say I'm behind schedule.
- Is that the plan? Prime Minister? - Well, you laugh...
Pedro, I've come to a very important conclusion.
If I'm to get any further, I had better get married.
Really? Who do you have in mind, the Queen Mother?
I'm absolutely serious. I spoke to Mike Steele.
The splendid and sphinx-like Mike, a question,
how would it affect our ratings in the polls if I were to get married?
Gosh, well, it might do you some good.
People don't trust a bachelor.
We might go up by 2%.
Really? How about five?
Shall we say five? 5% it is.
- There is one obvious problem. - I'll close my eyes,
grit my teeth and then after a few months, I'll say,
"I'm tired and old and impotent, darling,"
and that'll be that.
What about the men?
What men?
All the same, if she's not going to complain,
you'll need to find a girl who's led a sheltered life.
Then that is what I shall do.
I'll make her the luckiest girl in the world.
Let the hunt begin.
Oh, it's good. It's very good.
It's... I'll tell you what it is, it's the lining makes it look cheap.
If that was in mustard or scarlet,
then I think that would really come alive.
Oh, my God. You've got quite an eye.
Mind you, you are one of those very lucky men,
you'd look good in anything.
Oh, my goodness!
Go on, give us a smile.
Pop the glasses on.
Flash us the lining again.
A bit more saucy. That's good.
You are very, very good at this.
Now, Eve needs someone exactly your height,
- tomorrow at ten o'clock. - Am I really, though?
Why am I good, do you think? I don't understand.
What am I doing that's good?
That's great, Norman. OK, I want you to turn to the left.
Yeah, that's nice. Hold that.
Oh, gorgeous! You're a natural!
That's great, Norman.
I can hardly believe all the fuss.
I'm just a boy from Bexleyheath, after all.
Patrick said that they love it.
He said that they love you
and they want you back on Thursday for the cover!
Oh, my goodness!
Show us more of your left side. Lean this way.
Yeah, yeah.
Wow, that's great. Oh!
Oh, nice, yes.
We knew nothing about it.
Well, we tried to keep the wedding day a secret,
but you lot outfoxed us.
I had the devil's work, talking him into a honeymoon.
- Jeremy is always so busy. - But not any more.
I must say, what started as a dalliance
has turned into something quite wonderful.
I may be from Bexleyheath
but my mother became pregnant abroad, mysteriously,
so my father could be anyone.
Just concentrate, Norman.
Look at me. Leave the ball, leave the ball where it is.
You've been having too much fun.
Look at me. Mm-hmm. Yeah, OK.
Concentrate.
- Sorry. - Just concentrate, yeah?
Rupert, my friend, here, look.
And, look.
Oh, good, you see, he's changing the thingy.
As fast as we can now, thanks.
We don't want to get cold.
No, it's fine, it's fine. We're perfectly happy. Isn't that right?
- Careful. - I've got him, I've got him.
- He's a bit sleepy. - Well, we can't have that, little chap,
there's a whole world to see.
Well done, you. Celia said she'd pop in later.
She'll have a fight on her hands, taking him off me.
Won't she, Prince Rupert?
Are you Prince Rupert or are you Rupert the Bear?
- Hello. Daddy calling. Hello. - Mr Thorpe!
And big smile.
You know, it's entirely possible, between you and me,
that I could be royalty.
Norman!
Right, you can take the glasses off.
- I'd like to keep them on, please. - Take them off.
Christ, can we get some make-up under his eyes, please?!
Well, I'm going to say goodnight.
Oh, Jeremy!
Not till you've danced with me.
- I absolutely refuse. - But I insist.
Well, that is going to wake the baby.
He'd be delighted for us.
Good Lord. You are making a grave error.
Am I?
- You see? - It's not that hard.
There we go.
I'm sorry. You see, it was inevitable.
- I'm so... - You did that on purpose.
- Not at all, no. - You did.
That is me dancing. I'll try again.
Don't try and get out of this.
- I said, I'm sorry! - You were late, three times in a row,
and then on Tuesday, you didn't even turn up.
Sorry, Norman, you're off the books.
Please.
Open the door, open the door, I can explain.
Please, please, please! Please, Lyn, please! No!
Lyn!
Shh-shh-shh-shh.
There we go.
- Colberton 263. - Could I speak to Mr Thorpe, please?
I'm sorry, he's not in at the moment. Who is this?
I'm sorry to bother you.
I got your number from the Liberal Club in Barnstable.
- Is that Mrs Thorpe? - Yes, and who are you?
My name is Norman Josiffe.
I don't suppose he mentioned me, but I need my National Insurance card.
Can you tell him, please?
From me, from Norman, that I need it?
I've been working in Ireland, you see,
and everything's gone a little bit wrong,
and I don't think you people know how it works.
That card says whether I'm entitled to benefits,
and I literally need it right now!
- I am penniless. - I'm sorry, I don't understand.
Why would Jeremy have your card?
Because he was my employer.
He was my employer and my lover.
He told me he loved me again and again, and I've got nothing.
All I need is that card and then I'll leave you alone.
And can you tell him that I've changed my name?
He will need to put that on the card.
I've adopted the family name of the Fourth Earl of Eldon,
who sired me, I'm convinced, as his illegitimate son.
So tell Jeremy from now on my name is Norman Scott.
Norman Scott.
Thank you.
Scott.
Mr Norman Scott.
And what did Caroline say?
It's disgusting.
He was absolutely disgusting.
This man has been conducting, shall we say, a vendetta.
And if he was in any way trying to make you feel...
I don't care. I don't want to hear anything about it.
Well, he's obviously insane.
Jeremy, we will never discuss this in any way, ever.
Is that understood?
Then, what do we do?
We get rid of him. How?
We could scare him.
My friend David, he knows some men.
What? To rough him up, do you mean?
I'm not sure that would work.
Norman? He'd be terrified, the creature's pathetic.
I'm not sure. It's an easy mistake to make.
He's effeminate and therefore we think he's weak,
but that man sits in pubs and clubs
and houses and hotels telling all the world
about his homosexuality out loud, all day long.
It doesn't bother him who's listening,
priests or housewives or landlords or anyone.
He tells the truth and doesn't care.
No-one else does that, Jeremy. No-one. Certainly not us.
In this whole land, there is Norman and Norman alone.
To be blunt, he amazes me.
I think he's one of the strongest men in the world.
Well, in that case, there is only one thing we can do.
Kill him.
- Oh, if only we could...! - No, I mean it.
We kill him. Have him killed.
Don't be ridiculous.
He will destroy me and the party and my marriage.
What if the next person he talks to is a journalist, hm?
For God's sake, Jeremy, we're Members of Parliament.
We can't sit here and discuss murder.
No worse than shooting a sick dog. It's a damn sight worse.
I really don't care. I don't care if we shoot him
or we strangle him or we poison him
or we bludgeon him or we tie him up in a sack and drop in the Thames,
there is only one way for us to survive,
Norman Scott has got to die. So, how?
Sync and corrections by btsix www.addic7ed.com