Sirens Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Sirens script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Hugh Grant and Tara Fitzgerald movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Sirens. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Sirens Script



            The curator agreed to remove the paintings from the exhibition

            and sent a letter to the artist inviting him to submit alternatives.

            Unfortunately, the offer was refused point-blank.

            - He's threatened to go to the press. - Mr Norman Lindsay, l take it?

            - You've heard of him. - Well, l like to keep abreast.

            The last thing we want is a scandal. Anyway, here they are.


            A case could be made for the first three. They're merely vulgar.

            But this one is certainly blasphemous.

            - And you want me to talk him round? - lt's on the way to your new parish.

            l think an outsider has more of a chance of getting through to him

            than any of us locals.

            l gather you were something of a progressive at Oxford.

            Don't believe everything you hear but yes, element of truth in that.

            He's happy to put you and your wife up for the night.

            l think he rather relishes the idea of a good argument.

            Well, if his reputation is anything to go by,

            he'd love to shock the socks off any churchman that goes near him.

            May l introduce you to my wife? l don't think you've met.

            Estella, the Bishop of Sydney. My wife, Estella.

            - Welcome to Australia. - Thank you.

            - Morning. - Tickets, please.

            - Do you know if a taxi's waiting? - Yeah. There's not.

            l, um, understand one was booked to go to Mr Lindsay's place.

            Doing a bit of modelling, are yous?

            No, l certainly am not.

            Taxi's been a bit late lately. You'd be better off down at the pub.

            May we leave our baggage here?

            l'm about to knock off. lt'll be pilfered.

            Would you mind giving us a hand with it, then?

            - Oh, l'm awfully sorry. - l'll forgive you.

            - Millions wouldn't. - Oh, dear.

            Try the pub. lt's just down the hill.

            - Morning. - Get fucked. Get fucked.

            Ah, fuck.

            Aw, fuck.

            Watch the language, everyone.

            Gents only in the bar. Ladies' lounge is through the door.

            Yes, we don't want a drink. We just want a taxi, if there is one.

            - Reg is at a funeral. - l see.

            - You could be in for a long wait. - Oh, yes?

            lt's his funeral.

            Well... Thanks.

            Hey! l got my eye on you!

            - Where yous goin'? - Out to Mr Lindsay's place.

              We're goin' out that way. We can give you a lift.

              - Thank you. Thank you very much. - After we finish our beers.


              They can't wait forever.

              Fine. Come on, then.

              Thank you.

              Thanks for the lift.

              l don't mean to be rude but...

              you got a bit of food on the side of your mouth.


              See ya later.

              Sorry about that, Piglet. You all right?

              They swear an awful lot. They tend to, types like that.

              - They didn't really say anything. - Good.

              - Now, where is everyone? - Maybe Mr Lindsay changed his mind.

              Pooh, look, there's something here.

              Dear visitors, sorry we missed you. Gone out for a picnic.

              Make yourselves at home.

              Well, l suppose we'd better not go in.

              Let's sit over by the pond.

              - Mrs Campion? - Hello.

              What? Ah! Sorry.

              l was fast asleep there.

              You must be Mr Lindsay. Lindsay Campion, my wife Norman.

              - Estella. - Just out from England?

              That's it. We arrived just a couple of weeks ago.

              So they weren't game to send a local?

              Well, you... you're exactly on our way.

              Oh, well. l'm glad you got here in one piece.

              Excuse me, l gotta get back to work.

              Giddy and Sheela'll show you a room. You'd probably like to freshen up.

              - We'd love to, thank you. - Thank you very much.

              - You take that for me... - This way, ladies and gents.


              Thank you. Lovely.

              You'll have trouble sleeping.

              She sleeps next door and she snores terribly.

              - l do not. - She sounds like two possums mating.

              That's so horrible and it's not true.

              Whereabouts is the, uh...

              Take him out to the thunder box.

              Just a tick.

              l've never snored in my life.

              l think snoring can be quite charming, actually.

              This way.

              Why do they call it a thunder box? Cos it's out in the wind and rain?

              l suppose. But you always need to keep your shoes on.

              - Are there stinging nettles? - Yes, and scorpions and centipedes.


              - Can you swim? - Not very well.

              l'll wake you up. There's a swimming hole we go to every day.

              - l'm Sheela. - Estella.

              Does he always take the Bible with him to the dunny?

              lt wasn't the Bible. He just doesn't like wasting time, that's all.

              Well, from the size of it, he could be there all night.

              l should've warned him about the redbacks.

              - What are they? - Small spiders with big teeth.

              - They live under toilet seats. - How do you know if they're there?

              By the screams.

              Ah, there you are.

              Mr Lindsay's wonderful, isn't he?

              He said we're gonna do The Sirens next.

              - Do you know about them? - Certainly.

              They lived on the island of Atlantis and sang songs from the cliffs

              and sailors from passing ships were driven mad by these gorgeous voices.

              And the ships would be dashed against the rocks

              and the sailors dragged down to a blissful death

              with the voices of the sirens ringing in their ears.

              l think myths are a bit stupid, really.

              l'll be wearing this.

              You know, you could pose, too, if you like.

              He always needs more models. Go on, try it. Please.

              There's some male ones too.

              l don't think that's quite for us.

              Well, you could always wear a dagger, strategically placed.

              Or a sword. Whichever you need. And dinner's ready.

              Oh, that's right.

              l was sent to fetch you.

              l don' people thinking l'm like the other models.

              l'm working here as a maid. Mr Lindsay asked me to pose

              and l said l would if l could keep my clothes on.

              Because l really think it's important to keep one's mystique,

              don't you, Mr Campion?

              ls it Mr Campion or Father Anthony?

              lt's, uh, it's Tony.

              Do you think it's a sin...Tony?

              l don't think there's anything sinful about the body.

              There's a tradition of religious painting featuring the nude.

              lt's a question the artist uses the body that's important.

              So, do you think Mr Lindsay's paintings are rude?

              Some l think are profane.

              Oh, that's good. l'm starving.

              l only eat once a day cos my mother's very fat

              and it runs in my family.

              You should see my grandpa. He looks like the Michelin Man.

              You know, the one with all those tyres around him?

              He eats like a horse! He puts tomato sauce on everything.

              lt was a very enlightened society. The artists made all the decisions.

              That's why there's no record of warfare

              between the Atlanteans and anyone else.

              The main question is, where was it?

              The Mediterranean is the most likely spot.

              They're always digging up pottery

              that doesn't belong to any known civilization.

              How could a complete people just disappear?

              Well, a cataclysm. They were all wiped out in a cataclysm.

              Whole island sank in an earthquake.

              So you're a genuine believer in Atlantis?

              Well, l lived there in a former incarnation.

              l ask because the cataclysm can be seen as an image of moral collapse

              and some think we're going through a similar period of decay.

              Do you explore that in your painting?

              l think people have always been decaying, whenever they can.

              He's just a very depraved man, l'm afraid, Mr Campion.

              No one's safe.

              l'm bloody bored!

              Have you seen those fairies lately?

              A couple of them were out last Friday.

              - They were not! - They were too.

              They always come out on Fridays round midnight.

              They do not. Do they, Mummy?

              Yes, you don't see them cos you're asleep.

              Tonight's Friday, as a matter of fact.

              But then you'd be too bloody bored to see them.

              No, l'm not, Mummy. l promise l won't be bored.

              - Even bloody bored? - Promise!

              Well, if you're gonna be up at midnight, get to bed now.

              - Say good night to everybody. - Good night, everybody.

              - Do they really come, Mummy? - Fairies only live in books.

              The lndustrial Revolution killed the fairies.

              They were left with nowhere to live.

              - Except our imaginations. - lmaginations are a luxury.

              - Beg your pardon? - Most people can't afford them.

              l don't think imagination is dependent on economics, is it?

              ln a factory you're doing exactly the same thing day after day.

              An active imagination is what allows people to do that kind of work.

              Oh, well, you'd know, of course!

              l just think that's what you'd have to do.

              You'd have to be imagining other things.

              Please don't tell us what the working class think,

              thanks very much.

              l think what the Bishop's really hoping for

              is that we can come to a compromise,

              find some other examples of your work.

              The great thing is no... Your chair.

              - No one wants to see you excluded. - Now, that is a comfort.

              l hadn't realised the Church's interest in contemporary painting.

              lt's just The Crucified Venus we're uncomfortable with.

              - Pooh? - lt's me.

              Come in.

              Poor old Piglet. Pru gave you a bit of a working over.

              l'll survive. Did you get anywhere with Mr Lindsay?

              He insists it's up to the public to decide for themselves

              if they want to see his pictures.

              Of course, they have to see them first to decide,

              by which time the damage has been done,

              but that is a bit of logic which is lost upon him. Never mind.

              l'll have another shot in the morning before we go.

              Do you think the pictures actually damage people?

              l think that the sexual ones are just rather childish

              but l do think negative images build up

              and don't any good in the long run

              and l think The Crucified Venus is offensive and downright arrogant.

              - l'm coming, l'm coming!

              - Hurry up, stupid! - l'm running as fast as l can,

              you disgusting thing!

              My guess is they're tooth fairies.

              - Shall we? - Come on, then.

              - Swimming? - What's the time?

              The train doesn't leave until    .

              All right.


              What'd you do to him? He's exhausted.

              - Anthony! - Don't wake him up.

              Well, he might be dreaming.

              lt's dangerous to wake somebody up if they're dreaming

              because you leave part of your brain behind.

              lf it happens a lot, you go feeble in the head.

              Yeah. You're living proof.

              All right, l'll join you in a minute.

              - Are you rich? - Not very.

              - What does your father do for crust? - Why do you ask?

              Well, Pru thinks you're bourgeois, that's all.

              Mine was taken by a shark.

              God, how awful!

              There wasn't much left of him.

              So l was brought up mainly by my mum. She runs a sweet shop.

              But l'm quite ambitious all the same. l was determined to keep my figure,

              which was hard with chocolate wombats and toffee apples everywhere.

              - But as you can see, l succeeded. - Because you wanted to be a model?

              Oh, no. Modelling is just to get known.

              l'm going to be a famous actress.

              People will know me through Mr Lindsay's paintings,

              then l'll move on to stage and screen.

              They're just doing it to show off.

              They're very common. They can't help it.

              Sheela's got ten brothers and sisters.

              She wants to be an artist like Norman but poor girl, she's hopeless.

              - And Pru wants to be an aviator. - Aviatrix.

              l'm gonna splash you.

              - Be careful of the water snakes. - There aren't any water snakes.

              Quick, someone's coming!

              - Hide! - lt's all right, he can hardly see.

              - Devlin! - Come and have a swim.

              Don't get him to come in. He might...brush against you.

              Come in.

              You shouldn't have anything to do with him. He's a criminal.

              - You dream about him, don't you? - l do not!

              You lie on the ground while he licks your belly button.

              You're so disgusting, flaunting yourselves. You're so cheap!

              He wouldn't know if we were dressed or not.

              Do you have to carry on in front of Estella?

              - What's wrong with her? - She'll think we're...barbarians.

              We are!

              Don't. Don't. Don't.

              - Morning. - Morning.

              The papers got hold of it.

              "When the exhibition arrives in London, the English will be convinced

              "Australia is peopled by degenerates afflicted with sex mania."

              Must be why they deported us.

              The other news is that it seems we'll be here for another day or so.

              The train was derailed and a section of track has to be repaired.

              Rose is very kindly giving us a ride into town this afternoon

              to see how long it's going to be.

              These flies are remarkably persistent.

              l just...ate one, l think. Came in on me honey.

              Made me feel funny...

              in me tummy.

              - May l speak? - Briefly.

              l just wondered if you'd be interested in today's editorial?

              l try to ignore the press as much as l can.

              lsn't it hard to sustain your vision

              when it flies so completely in the face of public opinion?

              So the arrows of your detractors bounce off, do they?

              Vanity is a formidable armour.

              Oh, here we go.

              "The excesses of Lindsay have long been a source of consternation

              "to clean-living citizens of this country.

              "He paints people who seem to be slaves of cocaine or similar,

              "which has reduced them to frenzied and shameless morbidity.

              "Today, however, not content with scorning standards of public decency,

              "he profanes the most sacred image of Christianity, the Crucifixion."

              As if l give a damn about these Wesleyans, these wowsers.

              Well, it's quite a lot of people who hold the Crucifixion sacred.

              - Anyway, you're busy. - Mr Campion, l am an artist

              and l refuse to be compromised by the scruples of the public!

              - Scruples or beliefs? - And this Crucifixion business.

              When l was a boy,

              my mother used to try to instruct us on the sad story of Jesus,

              how He died on the cross for us.

              My whole being rose in revolt against the idea!

              lt's a vile notion that a god should sacrifice himself

              for the sins of mankind, it's a pestilent notion.

              - Well, l couldn't agree with that. - Hang on.

              As for the suffering my poor pictures will cause a few people,

              it's nothing compared to the suffering the Church has caused.

              The burning of witches, the Spanish lnquisition,

              the slaughter of pagan tribes and so on.

              Anyway, there we are.

              Must get back to work.

              l don't think the Church can be blamed

              for everything done in-in-in-in its name but we'll take this up later.

              Well, now, here's a thing.

              You see the article in here about Atlantis? There's a new theory.

              Off Norway, they reckon.

              When it sank, it must've caused a tidal wave,

              so they're looking at old Nordic texts

              to see if there's any evidence of flooding.

              You're disgusting, Sheela. You should be in a sty.

              - Watch this. Watch Giddy's skin. - Don't you dare. Don't, Sheela.

              One day, we're gonna tickle you...

              and we're gonna keep tickling you all over.

              Stop it.

              Look at her arms and legs. Look at the goose pimples.

              Sheela. Will you be quiet?

              - Do you know who else will do it? - Shut up.

              - He'll be tickling you too. - He will not.

              He'll tickle you...there.

              She'd burst. Her insides would go everywhere.

              Sea slugs do that.

              When they get attacked, they spit their insides out.

              You can eat them and go all night.

              There are islands where the women gang up

              and ambush their favourite men

              and feed them the longest sea slugs they can find.

              And the men get so incredibly hard,

              you can hang heavy clothes and jewels from their erections.

              - But doesn't it hurt? - Excruciatingly.

              Giddy's guts would be good for that.

              They would not!

              My giblets are pure and innocent, like my mind.

              Let's hope it's good news and then we can get out of your hair.

              - A couple heads more doesn't matter. - That's very kind of you.

              l suppose there's no point in trying to prevail on you

              to help persuade Norman just to withdraw that particular picture?

              - Mr Campion... - Tony.

              Have you actually seen it?

              Yes, very briefly in the gallery.

              l was the model for it, you see...

              One, two, three, charge!

              Stop it.

              Stop it at once!

              What do you think you're doing? Go on, get off! Get off.

              Go on, shoo, all of you. All of you, go away.

              What on earth was all that about?

              They're just acting out what their parents say -

              Norman's the devil incarnate and we're all witches.

              Go on, now, shoo.

              - You eat sheep poo! - You disgusting things!

              - How do l look? - Very nice.

              Can l wear it tonight? Pru and l are going out with some blokes.

              l suppose so.

              Do you often try on other people's clothes without asking?

              All the clothes l've ever worn are other people's.

              - ls this the ship you came out on? - Yes.

              My dad was a sailor.

              What does he do now?

              He's dead.

              l'm sorry.

              A shark took him.

              They found an arm with his watch.

              That's what they buried - the arm.

              Still used a normal-sized coffin though, just for appearances.

              l hadn't realised sharks were so...


              Do you like your husband?

              Do people usually marry people they don't like?

              Quite often, l'd say.

              Now, Devlin, l want you to pose as Ulysses.

              ls he the chap you're going out with?

              God, no. He just does odd jobs around the place.

              - But he can't see. - He can't see much.

              Norman says it's all a blur.

              There was a big prizefight out in the bush.

              lt went on for hours. Blood everywhere.

              ln the end, they had to stop cos Devlin was blind.

              After a few days, he could see a bit,

              but he can't hardly recognise anyone until they speak...

              ..but Giddy thinks he's the best thing since Valentino.

              Merely routine for you, old boy, l would've thought.

              See ya tomorrow night, all right?

              For too long, you've kept sensuality in the gloom.

              You've made it furtive and guilty!

              The Church has never denied that sex has a supremely important role.

              "Vaginal pessaries require a manipulation of her genital organs

              "which must be repugnant to every woman."

              See, that's the problem. God makes us feel so guilty...

              When Dolly Rogers allowed me to play with her parts,

              l thought l'd be struck by lightning.

              - One point. - What's your point?

              Mr Campion is trying to say

              if we give way to our whims, we're no better than pigs.

              - Pigs? - That's not my point!

              lf God didn't want us to play with these parts, why make them fun?

              So many people can't feed their kids and the Church says, "Have more."

              Here come your lovers.

              Look, Jesus never said anything about chastity, anyway.

              That started with some old men on an island

              that suddenly decided the body was bad for the soul.

              - Atlantis, was it? - lt's a pity for women it wasn't.

              The fact is, the gloomy God of the Old Testament

              still has us by the scruff of the neck today.

              When He was invented, there were a lot of pagan religions

              that celebrated sexuality and fertility and so on.

              So how is this new religion to compete with something so popular?

              By saying that sex was evil and that women, the embodiment of sexuality,

              were responsible for the downfall of mankind in the Garden of Eden!

              - So we're second-class citizens. - Mrs Pankhurst would be proud.

              - Why can't we be vicars or priests? - Or popes?

              Because we're too deafened by the din of our bodies to hear God's Word.

              - Here, here. - May l answer that question?

              - May l speak? - Come in, boys.

              - Evenin', all. G'day. - Evening.

              You're late.

              We had to fix up... a couple of flyblown sheep.

              Did you wash your hands?


              - Eww, it's horrible. - lt's only oil, honey.

              lt's sheep poo. You got sheep poo in your fingernails.

              lt's OK. We'll be wearing gloves.

              Well...better get going, l suppose.

              See yous later.

              - Good night. - See ya.

              Try one of these.

              They're Turkish.

              Don't worry, Giddy. Your time will come.

              - Any luck? - No.

              "ls there a Piglet in the house?" said Pooh.

              They're trying to shock us, aren't they?

              Well, church-baiting's always been a popular pastime.

              l got an awful lot of it at university.

              The atheists always think it's funny to roast the dusty old Christian.

              The great thing, of course, is not to be too dusty.

              You should have seen Lindsay's face when l started quoting Joyce at him.

              Something wrong, Piglet?


              Those girls are perfect models for Lindsay's orgies, aren't they?

              A shame about Giddy. l think there's hope for her.

              She was, um...sticking up for me at dinner. Did you notice?

              Oh, dear. l probably shouldn't have brought you here, should l?

              - Pooh... - Piglet.

              l think...

              sometimes you have too high of an opinion of me.

              What on earth makes you say that?

              - Oh, l don't know. - You are a funny little thing.

              lt's freezing. Come on, then.

              Do you want to?

              l'm not sure.

     don't have to decide now.

              - You wake me up if you do. - All right.

              According to Mr Lindsay,

              we should both be in a state of perpetual tumescence.

              - What are you doing? - Watching you sleep.

              Looks like you both had another punishing night.

              l wish you wouldn't creep into our room every morning!

              We've just been for a swim.

              l just wanted to tell you how nice the water was.

              Hello! Stop!

              - What happened to you? - You're a terrible mess.

              l went for a walk.

              - lost. - Come on.

              Plenty of room.

              - Here. Put this on. - l don't want to dress up.

              You look as if you've been in an orgy. Who were you with?

              No one.

              Don't be a spoilsport. Please?

              Oh...all right, then.

              Fuckin' pub.

              You get fucked. And you too. You get fucked.

              And you. You get fucked too.

              Go on and get fucked. Get fucked.

              Three jugs of beer and a créme de menthe.

              Hello? Hello?

              Sorry, lounge is closed.

              - What about them? - Just closed a few minutes ago.

              - Well, the main bar's open. - The main bar's for men.

              - Don't worry. Let's go. - We came here for a drink.

              Hey, Tom! Lewis.

              Get us some drinks, will ya?

              Forget 'em. They're pretending they don't know us.

              That boil in the middle of your bum...

              you should have it looked at by a doctor.

              lt might go septic. Your whole bum might fall off.

              - What if we drink outside? - That's against the law.

              lt's against the law to be open on a Sunday.

              Get fucked.

              One, two, three!

              - Your mother's a trade unionist? - Yep.

              The sort that'd put people like you up against a wall and shoot 'em.

              - My family aren't wealthy. - What does your father do?

              - He's an antiques dealer. - Mine was a sailor.

              He's dead.

              Taken by a shark?

              Blown to bits in a battle.

              They only ever found his foot.

              - What's funny? - l'm sorry.

              One, two, three!

              - Let go of my foot. - One, two, three!

              - Let go of my foot! - One, two, three!

              You haven't caught us yet.

              All right, girls. Jiggle your biceps. This'll be piss easy.


              - Hopeless! - Pitiful!

              - Kelly O'Hara! - Sean Connolly!

              - Seamus O'Hurd! - Patrick O'Shaugnessy!

              l'm gonna be honest with you. l find your lustful women preposterous.

              - That doesn't surprise me. - l am married, Lindsay,

              so l do have some experience of the opposite sex.

              l can assure you my wife is about as far from your debauched harridans

              as animal is from vegetable.

              And which is she, Mr Campion?

              - Sorry. - Animal or vegetable?

              What are you doing, Giddy?

              Dancing away all my impure thoughts. l'm filled with them.

              You should be doing it.

              You need to more than me. Oh, not you, Estella.

              She needs to more than anyone.

              Ah, the world's going round.

              What are you picturing in your mind, Giddy?


              - You're getting slippery. - What do you mean?

              l know somewhere... where she'd be really ticklish.


              He leaps from rock to rock with the grace of a mountain goat.

              - You all right? - Rose. Yes, l'm fine, thank you.

              - Just a bit out of breath. - Were you running?



              l think it's time you paid a visit to Mr Devlin.

              l don't chase men. lt's undignified.

              What's that in his hand?

              - lt looks like Estella's hat. - Yes.

              l...l lost it when l went out for a walk. He must've picked it up.

              So that's why you were blushing in the car.

              l was feeling ill, l told you.

              Let me go.

              You ticklish?

              Excuse me.

              Would you...please untie me?

              Please, will you untie me?

              My hands are going to sleep.

              Thank you.

              - That tunic suits you. - l thought we might go to evensong.

              All right, l'll go and change.

              So must l.

              - Where were you? - We went into the town.

              You went to the pub. l can smell it on your breath.

              Why are you wearing that ridiculous outfit?

              lt's...part of what they've been using in the latest paintings.

              Yes, l'm well aware of that.

              Does this mean you'll be doing some modelling?

              There's no need to be offensive.

              - Estella, what's wrong? - Nothing is wrong!

              ln its long history, one of the enduring strengths of the Church

              has been its capacity to withstand persecution,

              insult and ridicule.

              Since its inception,

              those who have sought to mock Christians have been legion.

              Even Jesus Christ Himself felt their lash -

              on the street, in the marketplace, even at the end on the cross.

              "Where are you now, you King of the Jews?"

              they called out to Him in his agony.

              ln every age, still more come forward

              to scorn His name and to defame His most sacred images.

              But true Christians, secure in their faith,

              can identify such detractors for what they are -

              the disciples of the devil,

              the destroyers of all that is precious in family life,

              the harbingers of darkness and chaos.

              Please be seated.

              - What on earth is wrong with you? - Nothing.

              What strange, deluded, conceited creatures we human beings are.

              We think we have secrets

              but how can we have secrets from God,

              who knows our innermost thoughts every moment of the day?

              Giddy, what's wrong?

              He's in the studio. He's staying there tonight.

              l'm going to seduce him.

              You're drunk.

              Did he say anything... anything about me

              - when he untied you? - No.

              He's too shy, you see?

              l think you should lie down for a while.

              We're so out of touch with our passions.

              l mean, l'm such a bourgeois little thing,

              too scared even to reveal myself to a painter.

              l'm going to start walking around without any clothes on

              because, well, clothes are just ost...

              "ostentatious figments of middle-class imagination."

              That's Pru's nonsense.

              lt's just a bit cold tonight.

              Well, l'd better go and get ready.

              This is the first day of my new life.

              No, the first night of my new life.

              She'll have to cross the Arafura Sea.

              She'll be here in a few days.

              What are you trying to do?

              Look. This is where Amy Johnson's got to in her plane.

              She was almost eaten by cannibals.

              What are you trying to do to Giddy? She'll make a fool of herself.

              You've seen her. She's about to burst out of her skin.

              - She doesn't know what she's doing. - Why are you so concerned?

              - You jealous? - Don't be ridiculous.

              - You like him too, don't you? - We didn't speak when he untied me.

              - You didn't need to. - You're really shocking.

              Your characters all seem so ravenous. Can't love ever be gentle?

              Yes, of course it can, but l'm not painting love scenes.

              Sorry, yes - "lust scenes."

              But there is a fierceness in desire, isn't there? ln lovemaking?

              One of life's great conundrums.

              The only one, according to your paintings.

              l admit that the human universe

              is infinitely richer than my meagre palette.

              For instance, l do absolutely no justice at all

              to the nervous Nellies and the shrinking violets, the saints...

              You're very contemptuous of shrinking violets.

              Dear Estella, l'm a shrinking violet myself.

              l choose to live not in the real world but in here.

              l flee from the real world into my little studio

              and there before me is the unlimited canvas of my imagination.

              But your paintings, they do go out into the real world.

              While you have a wonderful imagination, most are stunted

              and you have no idea what effect they'll have on people

              or what they might incite them to. Rape?

              Mr Campion, in my opinion,

              the female body is the most beautiful thing in the world

              and if it turns you into a ravenous maniac l'd suggest it's a good idea

              if your wife takes the greatest care to get undressed behind a screen.

              Estella's seen the pictures too. Are we in danger from her?

              You're so patronizing, Mr Campion. Everyone has a rich imagination.

              What stunts it is capitalist exploitation.

              Go to Soviet Russia where they've been liberated,

              there's an explosion of creativity.

              Have you been to Soviet Russia, Pru? Have you?

              l thought for a moment someone knew what they were talking about.

              Communism has exploded every value, leaving a vacuum of moral anarchy.

              - Anarchy is freedom! - Balls! Sorry. Sorry.

              Freedom for the strong to dominate the weak.

              lt's exactly as before, just a different set of bullies.

              Speaking of bullies, where's Giddy?

              - l thought you'd lost that hat. - Yes.

              One of the girls must've found it.

              So, um, where was Giddy tonight?

              You like her, don't you?

              "Try one of these, they're Turkish."

              No, l just...

              l just worry about her with those other two.

              She's drunk herself into a stupor.

              Planning to throw herself at...

              that odd-job man.

              Yes, he's quite a character, isn't he?

              Apparently, he had a dangerous reputation before he lost his sight.

              This whole country's dangerous.

              You know, l've been mulling over what you said to me the other night

              about...about me thinking too highly of you.

              - l don't see either of us as saints. - That's a relief.

              Yes, l've done plenty of things l'm ashamed of, stretching way back.

              - What sort of things? - l remember when l was at school,

              we had this ridiculous initiation ceremony

              for the new boys, the "scum" as we called them.

              - l was put through it myself. - What happened?

              Well, we used to stand 'em on a chair, take their trousers down,

              whip 'em with wet towels while they recited Tennyson.

              - You know the sort of thing. - Do l?

              Anyway, that's just... something l wanted you to know.

              ln view's activities.

              What are you talking about?

              l think you know, l'd rather not put it into words.

                Sorry l'm so noisy.

                lt's all right. They'll all be asleep.

                You are the Winnie the Pooh sleeping in today.

                - What's the time? - Nearly three.

                Message from your friend Sheela.

                She didn't want to wake you for swimming as you needed your rest.

                Seemed quite smug about it, actually.

                l might have one now, then.

                To wake me up.

                Right. Good idea.

                - How are you feeling? - Really buggered.

                l woke in the night with a blanket stuck to me like a cloak.

                l'd spilt that horrible drink.

                l looked like a huge emerald mint.

                Not that it mattered.

                - Why? What do you mean? - l went to the studio to see him.

                He was there doing it with somebody else.

                Who was it?

                lt was dark. l suppose it was Sheela or Pru.

                They've got absolutely no morals at all.

                l just feel so stupid. l thought he liked me.

                So l'm not going to have anything to do with men any more.

                - l've made a big decision. - What decision?

                You'll see. So will Norman.

                - Change your mind? - Yes.

                Disappointing news. The organisers have backed down.

                Exhibition's going ahead with all the original paintings.

                - Still, we did our best. - l wish we could leave now.

                That's the good news. The track's been repaired.

                - We'll get the first train tomorrow. - Thank goodness.

                l'll tell Lindsay.

                Sorry, just thought l'd let you know we'll be off in the morning.



                You're very naughty so l'm not going to give you this chocolate.

                Honey! Honey, come quick.

                This lamb is absolutely delicious.

                Very nearly as good as Welsh lamb and that's saying something.

                Well, um...

                thank you very much for your hospitality.

                Bottoms up.

                We've enjoyed ourselves.

                l like a little opposition. lt clears the mind.

                So, um, l gather you're a boxer, Mr Devlin.

                Yes, l used to do a bit of boxing myself, actually.

                Quite a keen pugilist in one's day.

                Lost a huge part of this tooth from a great haymaker someone gave me.

                l expect you've got some pretty bad scabs to show as well.

                Apart, obviously, from the... eye thing, which is beastly.

                Well, unfortunately, during his last fight,

                Mr Devlin was gasping for air with his tongue hanging out

                and he got this enormous uppercut under his chin and lost most of it.

                Bulldust, Norman.

                He makes a brilliant Ulysses, anyhow.

                We always call him into the water and he never comes.

                Whoever he was, you'd try to get him in.

                - You'd get in the whole army. - God, you're charming tonight.

                Thinking about the Atlantis series, l'd like to do more research.

                l was thinking of mounting an expedition to go and find it.

                You might like to come.

                - Devlin could be the pilot. - Giddy could be the navigator.

                l'm not going if they're going.

                - What? - Why not?

                l can't trust you as far as l could kick you.

                - Thanks very much. - What are you talking about?

                You know!

                You always eat cheese when you're feeling guilty.

                Excuse me.

                Sorry, l'd better go and see if she's all right.

                - What? - Nothing.

                Piglet? You all right?

                Yes, l'm...l'm fine, thank you.

                Are you feeling a bit funny?

                Probably all that Stilton.

                You were packing it down, weren't you?

                - Well, l'd better...l'll go back. - Pooh.

                l think...we should talk.

                - Right you are. What about? - Ever since we got here, l...

                Well, now, l think some things are best left unsaid.

                But that means we'll always be strangers.

                No, not really.

                - Only small parts of us. - The bad parts.

                No, l think it's good to have a few secrets.

                Do you?

                That way, in    years' time,

                we'll still be able to surprise each other.

                Perhaps you're right.

                l love you, Piglet.

                - What's the matter? - You must've been dreaming.

                When you saw someone with Devlin.

                You were so drunk.

                l looked in here and you were absolutely sozzled.

                - But it was so real. - Dreams always are.

                The other two swear it wasn't them

                and you know how they like to boast.

                Do you still like him?

                - l suppose so. - You should go in and see him, then.


                That's what your dream was telling you.

                Here, put this on.

                - But it's your wedding ring. - lt's always brought me luck.

                - Has it? - Always.

                Wear these.

                Try some of this.

                We'll have to fix your hair.

                Good luck.

                l want to wake up now.

                - What? lt was night... - You were shouting.

                Really loudly. l heard you from the garden.

                But l wanted to tell you about last night. Oh, it was wonderful.

                l mean, l didn't do everything with him because...

                l don't think he's good enough for me but...

                oh, he did some things which were just...


                How dare you use her without permission?

                - l don't need permission. - lt infers that she modelled!

                You cannot just put someone in your painting!

                lt's totally compromising. She'll be outraged. l'm outraged!

                - Perhaps we ought to ask her. - l don't need to. lf she wanted...

                Anthony? What's the matter?

                Mr Lindsay has put you in his latest painting.

                He has to paint over you or we'll take legal action.

                He can turn you into someone else. You'd better have a look.


                lt's a good likeness.

                Devlin, better get back to work. Catch.

                They're asleep.

                For goodness sake!

                We'll be arrested.

                We'll be excommunicated.


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