New Chilling Tales - the Anthology (2019) - full transcript

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

Subtitles by explosiveskull

Welcome.

I'm Martin Jarvis.

Ghost and horror stories have
always been part of our world,

and we invite you to share
in a few of these tales.

Some you'll know, some you won't.

I hope you enjoy the series.

This is the first of our chilling tales,

and a strangely frightening story it is,

with even a moral lesson at its heart.



You'll hear more quite soon.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

The story was written by W. W. Jacobs,

a prolific teller of short
tales to chill your blood.

The time is about 1890,

the location the industrial
North of England.

Factories abound, and
most people have work.

The British are masters
of India, the British Raj,

and many people make their lives

and their fortunes out there.

The British Army still
has a strong presence

on the Indian continent.

Our heroes, if we can call
them that, are the Whites.

A simple family, not wealthy,



but they're content
with their lot in life.

Not too different from
many families of today.

The Whites live in a modest house,

a house which we would now call Victorian.

Mr. and Mrs. White had their only son,

Herbert, late in life.

In fact, he was almost
certainly a surprise.

Herbert is 24, he works in
a nearby industrial factory.

Mr. White is in his 60s, semi-retired,

but he does odd jobs for local people.

Mrs. White is a typically
hard-working housewife of the day.

They've saved for their old
age, so though, as I said,

certainly not well off,
they have enough to get by.

This is their story.

(SERENE MUSIC)

(WIND HOWLS)

Hark at that wind.

I'm listening.

Check.

I shouldn't think he'll come now.

Mate. (LAUGHS)

That's the trouble
with living so far out,

no one wants to come to
such an isolated place.

Nevermind, dear,
you'll win the next game.

Dad, I know I keep saying this,

but why don't we get gas lighting?

It's not like you can't afford it.

Besides, your chess is about
as good as Mother's knitting.

Cheeky monkey.

Yes you are, and all.

And you know I don't want any
of them newfangled things.

Just my oil and candles, that's just fine.

And my eyesight's very
good, thank you very much,

so set the pieces up again.

(HERBERT CHUCKLES)

(KNOCKING)

Blow me if that isn't him after all.

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

Hey Mother, Herbert.

This is my old friend
Sergeant Major Morris.

- Pleased to meet you.
- Oh.

MR. WHITE: 20 years he's
been gone away in India.

He was just a lad when he went away.

(GROUP LAUGHS)

Well it doesn't seem to
have done him much harm.

You'll take a drop of
whiskey, Sergeant Major,

to ward off the chill of this awful night.

Yes, of course he will.

Tell us about this great country of India.

(CHUCKLES) Thank you, ma'am.

This is very welcome.

Yes, it's an amazing place, India.

Full of strange sights.

Fakirs, elephants,

largest animals you've ever seen.

And magic.

Oh yes, and the magic.

Take this little thing.

A sort of talisman.

A monkey's paw.

A monkey's paw with a spell upon it.

How do you mean?

This little monkey's paw,

well, it's had a spell put on it.

It's had a spell put
on it by an old fakir,

who wanted to show that
fate ruled people's lives,

and those who interfered with
it had nothing but misery.

He put a spell on it so
that three different people

could have three wishes from it.

What do you mean?

Have you had three wishes?

I have had.

MRS. WHITE: What were they?

I think I'd rather not say.

But I kept them simple.

The first man who had it,

well, for his third wish,
he wished for death.

And that's how I came about it.

(LAUGHS)

You've had your three wishes.

What do you keep it for?

I suppose I had an idea
that I might sell it,

but I don't think so now.

It's brought nothing but misery.

MR. WHITE: Don't burn it!

Better to let it burn.

What did you do that for?

If you don't want it, I'll keep it.

(FAMILY LAUGHS)

If you must keep it, then
don't blame me for what happens.

My advice is to pitch
it into the fire again,

where it belongs.

What do I do with it?

MORRIS: Hold it in your
right hand and wish out loud.

But I must warn you of the consequences.

Well you might wish for
four pair of hands for me.

I could do with the help. (CHUCKLES)

But I must warn you.

If you're going to wish, wish sensibly.

MR. WHITE: Of course I will. (chuckles)

MRS. WHITE: Now come
on and have your supper,

there's plenty to eat.

Come on.

And they settle back to
enjoy a friendly supper,

and to listen to more
fantastic tales of India.

Until eventually, it's time

for Sergeant Major Morris to leave.

(GROUP LAUGHS)

Well my dear friend,
remember what I said,

and be careful with that
damned monkey's paw.

Oh, don't you worry, I will.

Thank you, Mrs. White,
for a marvelous spread.

And you, young Herbert.

Take good care of yourself.

Thank you.

Good night, Sergeant Major.

- Good night.
- Lovely to see you.

- Good night, Sergeant Morris.
- Good night.

He's an interesting man.

Now let's take this lot off on the side.

It's alright, Mother,
I'll do it in the morning.

Oh thank you, love.

I'm fair wore out.

Yes.

I offered him something for
it, but he wouldn't take it.

Pressed me to throw it away again.

As if you'd do that.

Why, we're gonna be rich.

And then Mother won't
nag you anymore, Dad.

Oh, you.

Go on.

Go on, Dad, make a wish.

I don't know what to wish for.

Seems to me I have all I want.

You'd be quite happy if the
house were paid for, though,

wouldn't you, Dad?

Yes, Son, you're quite right there.

That would be a burden lifted.

I wish for 200 pounds.

(SHOUTS IN PAIN)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

It moved.

It moved!

(LAUGHS)

It twisted in my hand, just like a snake!

I don't see any money,
and I doubt I ever shall.

It must have been your imagination

that it twisted, my dear.

It must have been your fancy.

Gave me quite a fright, I can tell you.

Only one piece, no harm done.

Well, it's time for
you and I to go to bed.

That's quite enough
excitement for one night.

Well that was a disappointment.

I expect you'll find the
cash tied up in a big bag.

In the middle of your bed,

with a horrible monkey
squatted on top of it.

Night, Mum.

Night, love.

Night, Dad.

MRS. WHITE: Are you coming, dear?

Yes.

Yes.

Truly amazing, that was.

Amazing.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

Wonder where our Herbert is.

He'll not have much time
to eat his sandwich.

(KNOCKING)

Who's that?

(DOOR CLOSES)

MR. JACKSON: I need to talk to you

and your wife, Mr. White.

Sure.

Well Mother, it's Mr. Jackson,

the foreman from Herbert's factory.

Please take a seat, Mr. Jackson.

I prefer to stand, Mr.
White, if you don't mind.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

Oh my god, it's Herbert, isn't it?

Is he alright?

Tell me he's alright.

I'm afraid there's been an accident.

Herbert seemed rather
distracted this morning.

He knows he has to be very vigilant.

But as I say, he wasn't
his normal self, and well,

he got caught in the machinery.

Is he badly hurt?

I'm so sorry, we turned the machine off

as quick as we could, but
it wasn't quick enough.

He's not dead, is he?

Tell me he's not dead. (SOBS)

I am so sorry, and so is the firm.

It was a terrible accident,

but not really the fault of the company.

They will compensate you, of course.

How much?

Well, they thought 200 pound
would be more than generous

in the circumstances.
(MRS. WHITE WAILS)

(SORROWFUL MUSIC)

The sad couple bury
their only beloved son

and return to their lives,

humbled and disconsolate.

(BELLS RING)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

About a week passes, and
the lives of our heroes,

I really shouldn't call them
that, are paralyzed with grief.

They're quite unable to
resume any kind of normality.

(SOMBER MUSIC)

The monkey's paw!

The monkey's paw, where is it?

The monkey's paw, where is it?

What is it, love?

What's the matter?

The monkey's paw!

Why didn't I think of it before?

MR. WHITE: What do you mean?

We've only had one wish.

We've got two more, we can
wish our boy alive again!

Wasn't one wish enough?

Have you gone mad, woman?

It was just a terrible coincidence.

There is no magic!

We can make another wish!

We can make him alive again.

Get the paw!

Oh come on.

A wish.

Wish!

Wish!

Wish!

Go on, wish!

I wish for our son to be alive again.

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

(KNOCKING)

It's Herbert!

I know it is, it's our son!

It's nothing, you're imagining things.

You're too upset.

It's my son, I know it is.

Let me go, you wretched man,

you will not hold me back from him!

Ella, think what you're
doing, don't let it in!

Jackson said he was
mutilated by the machine,

- think what he might look like!
- No!

For god's sake, don't let it in!

They wouldn't even let
us see him in his coffin!

The lid was down when we got
there, it won't be our Herbert!

It won't be our son!

You're afraid of your own son!

(INSISTENT KNOCKING)
Let me go!

I'm coming, Herbert!

I'm coming, my darling son!

Oh for god's sake, help me, it's your son!

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

Herbert, Herbert!

Herbert!

Herbert!

Herbert!

Mummy's here!

Come here, Mother's here, love!

Herbert.

Herbert?

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

I'm sorry, love, I had to do it.

It was the only thing to do.

(MR. WHITE SOBS)

(SOMBER MUSIC)

So as you can imagine,
the Whites never recover

from the tragedy of losing their only son

in such evil circumstances.

All victims of their own wishes.

We often wish for what we do not have.

For some magic perhaps to
improve our lot in life.

But here, sadly,

the old adage beware of what you wish for

proved horribly true
for this little family.

However, my friends, I look
forward to seeing you again

for our next chilling tale.

Bye for now.

(DRAMATIC ORCHESTRAL MUSIC)

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

NARRATOR: Our next chilling
tale, The Tell-Tale Heart,

was published in 1843,

and written by that great
American writer, Edgar Allen Poe.

The story tells of a young man

driven to the point of insanity

by his neighbor's
vulture-like staring eye.

We might say our hero
is suffering from OCD,

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,

which finally drives him over the edge,

into total madness and murder.

Here is his tragic story.

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

AUTHOR VOICEOVER: True, nervous,

very dreadfully nervous
I have been and am.

But why will you say that I am mad?

Mad men know nothing.
(BELL TOLLS)

However, my senses were sharpened.

Above all, the sense of hearing acute.

(RAVEN CAWS)

You should have seen me.

I did nothing to make you think me mad.

(CHAINS RATTLE)

I heard all things in Heaven and in Earth.

I heard many things in Hell.

(MAN SCREAMS)

It is impossible to say how the
idea first entered my brain.

But once conceived,

it haunted me day and night.

Object, there was none.

Passion, there was none.

I lived here, the old man's
room was up the staircase,

mine was close by.

I loved the old man, he
had never wronged me,

he had never given me insult.

For his gold, I had no desire.

I think it was his eye.

Yes, I think it was this.

He had the eye of a vulture,

a pale blue eye with a film over it.

Whenever it fell upon
me, my blood ran cold.

And so by degrees, very
gradually, I made up my mind

to take the life of the old man

and thus rid myself of that eye forever.

Now this is point you'll fancy me mad.

Mad men know nothing.

You should have seen me.

You should have seen
how wisely I proceeded,

and with what caution,
with what foresight,

with what dissimulation I went to work.

I was never kinder to the old man

than during the whole
week before I killed him.

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

(WIND HOWLS)

Closed, always closed.

(DOOR OPENS)

How are you, sir,

and how did you pass the
night, my good friend?

Fine, fine, I thank you.

Good.

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

Good, good.

No untoward noises to disturb you, then?

No.

No, no.

I thank you.

Uh-huh.

(DOOR SQUEAKS)

AUTHOR VOICEOVER: Night eight.

(WHIMPERS)

Who's there?

AUTHOR VOICEOVER: (chuckles)
Oh, I know that groan.

It is one of mortal terror,

and it rises from the bottom of the soul.

And now he is telling
himself not to be afraid,

telling himself it is only
the wind in the chimney.

But my friend, it is
death, death approaching.

What do you want?

(SCREAMS)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

(BELL TOLLS)

(KNOCKING)

Sir, one of your neighbors

reported hearing a dreadful
shriek coming from this house,

and we're here to investigate.

(CLEARS THROAT) A cry, you say?

I'm afraid that was me, Officer.

At times, I have terrible dreams
and I cry out in my sleep.

We heard that there was an
old man lodging here as well.

Oh yes, and my dear friend he is,

but he's away in the
country at the moment.

Why don't you come in, then
you can see for yourself?

Come, come.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

(BANGING)

The old man's room is up here.

Come in, come in, I want to
show you my friend's room.

Have a seat, sit for a
spell before you leave.

My friend keeps some gold under the bed.

(LAUGHS)

Now you are alone.

Have you lived in the city long?

Yes, well, about three years now.

The city is such an interesting place.

I grew up in the country
and clerk here now.

OFFICER: I moved there
from the country, too.

Oh, well then you know!

(LAUGHS) It certainly
takes some getting used to,

doesn't it, the city?

It's almost like a living, breathing thing

with the constant beating.
(HEART BEATS LOUDLY)

Yes, you do hear it, don't you?

(SOLEMN MUSIC)

Well, I don't envy you your jobs.

Constantly investigating. (LAUGHS)

That neighbor, he's always
hearing things, too.

(CHUCKLES)

(GROANS)

We'll leave you alone now.

Oh, well if you must go.

Thank you for coming,
allow me to show you out.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

Oh, you do hear it, don't you?

You must!

Liars, villains, well dissemble
no more, I admit the deed!

I admit it!

It is here, under the planks!

Here is the beating of his hideous heart!

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

(SHOUTS)
(HEART BEATS LOUDLY)

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

NARRATOR: And now for
a little female insanity

and early feminism.

The Yellow Wallpaper was written

by Charlotte Perkins Gilman,

an early pioneer of women's rights

and freedom from the male-dominated world.

Our heroine is keeping a
diary of her confinement

by her doctor husband,
a cold and remote man,

in a room dominated by some
hideous yellow wallpaper,

in the hope that it would cure her

of her apparent emotional issues.

Instead, the woman becomes
completely hypnotized

by the wallpaper and
drifts into total madness.

(FILM REEL CLICKS)

(SOLEMN MUSIC)

JANE VOICEOVER: A colonial
mansion, a haunted house.

Else why would it be let so cheaply?

John laughs at me, of course,

but one expects that in a marriage.

John is a physician, and perhaps,

perhaps that is why I
do not get well faster.

If I had less opposition, and
more society and stimulus.

This house has been empty for years.

There's something strange
about the house, I can feel it.

JANE VOICEOVER: I don't
like our room one bit.

I wanted one downstairs
that opened onto the piazza,

but John would not hear of it.

He's very careful and loving,

and hardly lets me stir
without special direction.

I was to have perfect rest
and all the air I could get.

So we took the nursery
at the top of the house.

But I never saw worse paper in my life.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

We've been here two weeks now

and I haven't felt like writing
before since that first day.

John is away all day and even some nights

when his cases are serious.

I'm glad that my case is not serious,

but these nervous troubles
are dreadfully depressing.

John does not know how I really suffer.

Of course, it's only nervousness.

I suppose John never
was nervous in his life.

EERIE VOICE: Help me out of here.

JANE VOICEOVER: He laughs at me so

about this wallpaper.

EERIE VOICE: Yes, yes, help.

Yes, help.

Let me out of here.

I used to lie awake as a
child and get more terror

and pleasure out of
blank walls and furniture

than most children could
get in a toy store.

EERIE VOICE: Let me out of here.

(CRACKLING AND RIPPING)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

- Let me out.
- I can see a

provoking form, and a sort of figure

that seems to skulk about

behind that silly and
provoking front design.

EERIE VOICE: Let me out.

Fourth of July is over.

John says if I do not pick up faster,

he will send me to Dr.
Weir Mitchell in the fall.

EERIE VOICE: Help.

I do not want to go there.

I'm really getting
quite fond of this room.

EERIE VOICE: Let me out of here.

In spite of the wallpaper.

Maybe because of the wallpaper.

(WALLPAPER FLAPS)

EERIE VOICE: Help.

It dwells on my mind so.

I lie here on this immovable bed

and follow that pattern about by the hour.

(SOMBER MUSIC)

(SCRATCHING)

JANE VOICEOVER: I don't
know why I should write this,

but I must say what I feel
and think in some way.

It's such a great relief.

It's getting to be a great
effort for me to think straight.

And dear John gathered me up in his arms

and laid me on the bed.

He said I was his darling, all he had,

and that I must take care
of myself for his sake,

and keep well.

He says no one but myself
can help me out of it,

that I must use my will and self control,

and not let silly
fancies run away with me.

EERIE VOICE: Help!

(WALLPAPER FLAPS)

Of course I don't tell him
about the wallpaper anymore.

Oh no, I am too wise.

But I keep watch of it all the same.

And behind those front bars,

that same shape gets clearer every day.

And it's always the same shape.

EERIE VOICE: Help me out of here.

I wish, I wish John would
take me away from here.

There is one marked
peculiarity about this paper.

It changes so quickly that I
never can quite believe it.

EERIE VOICE: Help me to escape.

JANE: Worst of all by
moonlight, there are bars.

EERIE VOICE: Let me out of here.

Let me out.

Let me out.

(SIGHS)

I lie down a great deal,
but I hardly ever sleep.

And that cultivates deceit.

For you see, I do not tell John.

Fact is, I'm getting a
little afraid of John,

he seems so queer sometimes.

I've watched John,

and several times I've caught
him looking at the paper.

(SIGHS)

I'm feeling so much better now.

I do eat better, and I
am much more quiet now.

John is so pleased to see me improve.

In fact, he laughed a
little the other day,

and said I seemed to be flourishing,

in spite of the wallpaper.

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

(SIGHS) I don't wanna leave now.

There is just a week more, and
I think that will be enough.

I am feeling so much better.

I don't sleep at all.

But it's so interesting
to watch developments.

EERIE VOICE: Let me out of here.

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

JANE VOICEOVER: There is
something else about this paper.

The smell, it creeps all over the house.

In this damp weather, it is awful.

I wake up in the night and
find it hanging over me.

EERIE VOICE: Help.

Let me out of here.

- Help me to get out.
- The front pattern moves!

And no wonder, the woman behind shakes it!

EERIE VOICE: Help.

Let me out.

(SOMBER MUSIC)

John is so queer now and I
don't want to irritate him.

Besides, I don't want anyone
getting that woman out

of the paper but myself.

If only the top pattern
could be gotten off

from the under one.

EERIE VOICE: Yes, go.

Yes, yes, yes.

Yes, that's it.

Yes.

Help.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

Help.

Yes.

Yes, yes.

Yes, yes.

Yes, yes.

I suppose I shall have to
get back behind the paper soon,

but it's so pleasant to be walking

in this great room as I please.

(KNOCKING)

Why, there's John at the door.

How he does call and pound so.

I say in my gentlest voice,

the key is by the front steps.

I threw it out the window.

That silences him for a few moments.

And then he says in his gentlest voice,

"Let me in, my darling."

And then he gets the key.

And of course, he comes in.

And I keep on creeping just the same,

but I look at him over
my shoulder, and I say,

I've got out at last!

And you can't put me back,

because I'm pulling off all the paper!

Now why should that man have fainted?

And right in my path.

Now I shall have to walk
over him every time.

(FILM REEL CLICKS)

(MELANCHOLY ORCHESTRAL MUSIC)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

NARRATOR: This next
story is a little different.

Was the man mad or just
way ahead of his time?

The Damned Thing was written

by the extraordinary Ambrose Bierce,

veteran of the American Civil War.

Journalist, visionary, who disappeared

while researching the Revolutionary
War in Mexico in 1913.

This is a story of an inquest
into the mysterious death

of a man living a solitary life
in the early American West.

As the jurors gather
round the savaged body,

the question is who, or
what, killed this man?

(OWL HOOTS)

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

(DOG BARKS)

I don't like this.

(DOOR SLAMS)

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

HUGH VOICEOVER: It's happening again.

For another entire night,
Buck barked furiously.

Buck!

Buck!
(BUCK BARKS)

HUGH VOICEOVER: Once
again, I could find nothing.

Has he gone mad?

You smell something, boy?

(BUCK BARKS)

We have been expecting you.

My apologies for keeping you, Coroner.

I had to post my newspaper and account

of what I suppose I'm
called here to relate.

The account differs, I suspect,

from that which you will
give here, under oath.

That is as you please.

I made a copy of the report I sent.

It was not written as
news, for it is incredible.

Incredible, you say?

That's nothing to you, sir,
if I do also swear it is true.

We will now begin the inquest.

Do you swear to tell the
truth at this hearing,

before these jurors?

I do.

You knew the deceased, Hugh Morgan?

I did.

CORONER: How did this happen?

Your presence, I mean.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

HUGH VOICEOVER: I
can stand it no longer.

I have invited Harker to
pass a few weeks with me.

He has a level head.

I can judge by his manner
if he thinks me mad.

I was visiting this
place to hunt and fish.

Part of my purpose was
also to study Morgan

and his odd, solitary way of life.

I thought he might make a good model

for a character in fiction.

I sometimes write stories.

CORONER: I sometimes read them.

Thank you.

Stories in general, not yours.

Relate the circumstances
of this man's death.

You may use any notes or
memoranda as you please.

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

It was just after dawn
when we departed the cabin.

We were hunting for grouse.

(BUCK BARKS)

We've startled a deer!

I wish I'd brought a rifle.

(CREATURE GROWLS)

Come now, you're not gonna fill up a deer

with birdshot, are you?

What is it, then, bear?

What the devil is it?

That damned thing.

(CREATURE GROWLS)

(CREATURE SCREECHES)

Before I could get to my
feet and reach for my gun,

I heard Morgan crying out in mortal agony.

(HUGH SCREAMS)

I had a vague belief that
he was suffering from a fit,

some kind of convulsion.

(CREATURE ROARS)

May Heaven spare me
another sight like that.

When I reached his side, he was down.

Oh, my friend.

He is dead.

A fantastic story indeed.

Are we to believe the
morning air caused this?

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

An animal of some kind.

But you did not see anything attack him.

No.

These were found on the deceased.

(CHUCKLES) Morgan did love his spirits.

Gentlemen, we have no more evidence.

Your duty has been explained to you.

If you have nothing to ask,

you may go outside and
consider your verdict.

Do not leave town until
this inquiry is complete.

The book you have there.

That's Morgan's diary, is it not?

You seemed greatly interested in it

when I was giving my testimony.

May I see it?

The public might be greatly interested...

The book will have no
matter in this inquest.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

HUGH VOICEOVER: For
another entire night,

Buck barked furiously.

It has been about here again.

I find evidence of its presence every day.

I watched again all night
last night, in the same cover.

It is terrible.

(BUCK BARKS)
Unsupportable.

If these amazing experiences
are real, I shall go mad.

If they are fanciful, I have already.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

I shall not go away!

You shall not drive me away!

This is my house, my land!

God hates a coward!

We the jury do find the
remains come to their end

at the hands of a mountain lion.

Yet some of us think, all
the same, he had fits.

HUGH VOICEOVER: I have
the solution of the mystery.

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

It came to me tonight.

Suddenly, by revelation.

How simple.

How terribly simple.

There are sounds we humans cannot hear.

A flock of birds in full song,
in several different trees,

will suddenly, at the same instant,

fly up into the air and away.

Together.

There must have been some sound,

a warning that they could hear,

but unheard by me or
any other human being.

And whales, it is well known to seamen

that whales can be basking, playing,

and then suddenly, the same instant,

dive all out of sight in a moment,

alerted by a sound too great
for the ear of a seaman.

As it is with sounds, so
it must be with colors.

I'm not mad.

There are colors we cannot see.

And God help me, that damned
thing is of such a color.

Damned thing is of such a color.

Simply the madness of solitude.

That madness dies with Morgan.

(CREATURE GROWLS)

(DOG BARKS)

Hello?

(DOOR OPENS)

Anybody there?

(CORONER SCREAMS)

(CREATURE GULPS)

(SOLEMN ORCHESTRAL MUSIC)

Subtitles by explosiveskull