Whatever Happened to Harold Smith? (1999) - full transcript

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---
[screaming]

- This is me and me dad.

He's the one flying out
of the urn.

Rest in peace, Dad.

- Very dangerous, what you did.
- Oops.

I wasn't really thinking about
the people sitting behind us.

He wouldn't
have liked that much.

He was never
an in-your-face sort of person.

- Never do that again. Right?
- He was a quiet man,

Harold Smith.

Now, this is the story
of something special



me dad did for me
a long time ago.

Something very special.

It was 1977.

It was "the year of the Fever.”

[Bee Gees'
"Saturday Night Fever"]

[knock-knock!]

- Eight o'clock, Vince.
- Ta, Dad.

- Oi!
[music stops abruptly]

What are you doing?!
What's a matter with you?

You're stealing my apple!
Don't do things like that, eh?

Pay me.

- I was lucky enough
to be employed at Nesbitt Solo,

South Yorkshire's
most stylish law firm.

Me boss, Mr. Keith Nesbitt,



was affectionately known
by us workers as "Turd-Tache,"

on account
of the large, furry rodent

stuck to his upper lip.

It was Nesbitt who coined
the firm's catchy motto:

"Justice with Style."

I was a junior trainee

legal clerk.
- Again, please.

By lunchtime.

- But it wasn't all bad.

In fact, in some ways,
it was brilliant.

Because that was where
I first met...

Joanna.

- ... with the outstanding
discoveries...

- Her dad was a teacher
at the university.

A man of science.

He knew exactly how things
happened the way they did,

and why.

He lived his life
to a strict set of rules.

- Ladies and gentlemen,
Uri Gellar.

[applause]

- Actually, what I do is...

- Me dad lived his life to
a strict set of rules, as well.

As long as he had his pipe
and his telly,

[dring!]
he was just fine.

- Harold Smith.
- Is Irene there?

- If you wait a minute,
I'll just call her.

Irene?

- Hello?

- Me mum did what she could
to keep busy.

- Hello. Who? Barry?

Oh, yeah, I remember

Barry the Bum from the Roxy.

How are you, Barry the Bum?
- All right.

- In fact,

we were all fine.
Not your standard modern family,

yet we were happy enough.

But then,

we had no idea

what was about to happen.
- Look,

if it's very...
[laughter and applause]

- Merry Christmas.

- Do you want a hand?
- No, it's... it's all right.

- Oh, go on.
We'll get it done in no time.

- No. Really.

- Suit yourself.
This is for you.

- What is it?

- What do you think?

- A card.

A Christmas card.

- Merry Christmas.

[dog barking]

- Merry Christmas, Dad.

- Merry Christmas, Vince.

- Merry Christmas, Mum.

Merry Christmas.

[rattling]

- Ah!

[TV]: And all because
Sunsilk's chosen

some of the wildest
things under the sun,

like limes and peaches
and coconuts,

to enrich...
- Huh!

[TV]: Choose one and wash

sunshine into your hair.

[laughter]

The minute he walked
in the joint

- Christmas was always
a good laugh at our house.

Aunt Madge always turned up
with this funny old bloke

she looked after,

Oobie.

Wouldn't you like to know
what's going on

In my mind
- No! We would not!

- One of the family traditions
was that everyone

had to do a little party piece.

- Come on, Ray.

- Okay.
- Come on, Ray,

show us what you can do.

- Ray. Ray, nothing.

the Mighty Zankini.

S'il vous plait.
- Oh!

- Me older brother
was a professional entertainer.

A magician.
[applause]

He didn't realize he was crap.

Empty, as me dad's head.

He were hoping to get booked

on this prestigious
Norwegian cruise ship.

- Oh, stronger
than me dad's brain!

- Oh, give over, Ray!
- "Give over, Ray."

Open your gob, Dad.

[squealing]

I knew he were good for summat.
- That's magic.

[dring!]

- Hello?

Hold on.

Mother.
- What?

Oh. Uh...
- Hey, Ray?

Would the Mighty Zankini

like to appear
at Mrs. Battersby's 100th

at the home?

- Talk to me agent.

- Who was that on the phone?

- Betty. I can't see
what's wrong with your name.

- Oh, right, that'll look good
up in lights.

You know, at the Palladium.
Ray Smith. Bloody magic that is.

All right, I've done my turn.

Come on, then, Alvin.
- Oh, no. It's me dad's turn.

- What? Don't be daft.
- Go on.

You can do something, eh, Dad.

- Well, I... I suppose
I could try...

doing a little trick.

[humming Christmas song]

- Quick, quick, quick.

- Right. Now, my gifts
for you three.

Joanna, you wanted
a record token;

Lucy, a novel;
and Margaret, a new handbag.

- Yes.
- Well, you might've noticed

there's just one envelope left
in the Christmas tree.

You all know my feelings on
religious rituals in general

on Christmas in particular,
but in essence,

there is value
in the concept of giving.

So this year,
my gift to you three is...

the gift of giving.

Joanna,
I'd like you to do the honours.

Just read it.

- "Dear Margaret,
Joanna and Lucy,

"my name is N'diri Kimwa."

Dad, this is your writing.

- Written on behalf of one
not privileged in education.

- "Il live in the village
of Obika in Sudan.

"The money that your father

"would've spent on the bourgeois
presents you asked for

"has been sent to my village,
where it will contribute

"to the building of a well.

His gift to you is yours to me.

"N'diri Kimwa."

Thanks, Dad.
- Yes, thank you,

Peter.
- What a lovely idea!

- All right.
[giggling]

Right, I'll...
I'll just concentrate.

Um. if... if you could
do the same, Ray.

- All right, Dad.

- Are you picturing it?

- I am picturing it.
- No, you're not.

- Yes, I bloody am.

- Could you picture it
a bit harder?

- This hard enough?

- Yes. Got it.

- The idea was,

Ray would write a number
inside a shape,

and Dad would try
to read his mind.

- All right, then, Dad.

Astound us.

- Hey! You got it!

Oobie, did you see that?
Wasn't that brilliant, Ray?

- Old-oldest trick
in the book, that.

Yeah, not bad. Not bad, Dad.

A bit wooden. Need to work
on the patter, zing it up a bit.

- All right,
how'd he do it, then?

- Oh, piss off.
- Right, then.

Take your places.
Let's show some respect.

- Oh! Right. Come on,
it's time for the queen, Oobie.

... noble Queen

God save the Queen...

Send her victorious

Happy and glorious

Long to reign over us

God save...

The Queen

- How'd you do it, Dad?

- Oh, there was nothing clever
about it. Not like your stuff.

When you got the egg out--
- Dad. How'd you do it?

- Do what?
- Uh, Ray were asking

how I did me party piece.
- What? No, I weren't!

- Thought it were
the oldest trick in the book.

- Yeah, well...

Ah, fuck off.

- Surely no mystery
to the Mighty Zankini!

Christmas was over,

and my New Year's resolution...

was to ask Joanna out.

[chitchatting and music]

- If you could snap your fingers
and have anything in the world,

what would you have?

- I dunno.

- Racehorse? E-type Jag?

Night out
with Farrah Fawcett Majors?

Villa in Majorca?
- I don't want to buy a pension.

- Seven and a half.
- Nine!

- I'll give you
seven and three-quarters,

tops.

- She gave me a Christmas card.

- Christmas card?

Fuckin' hell, pal, you're in!

- You reckon?

- Gagging for it.
See? Coming over, see?

Hi, love.

- Three and a half?

- Mmmmm!
And what about our friend here?

- Still thinking about that one.

- Sense of humour.
Lovely quality in a lady, eh?

Any idea what a loaf of bread's
gonna cost you in 1999?

- None whatsoever.
- 8 pound, 32 new pennies.

Been scientifically proven.
- How much would that tie cost?

- There it is again. Very droll.

Got a live one here, eh, Vince?

Here, love, listen...
you take this.

Now, that's me, all right?

Come in useful, this will.
Mark my words.

Me and thee, next Friday night.
May the force be with you.

- Mmm, very useful!

- Joanna!
- Hi.

- I've, uh, got something
for you.

- Oh.

- A Christmas card.
- It's the 7th of January.

- Well, uh, think of it
as early for next year.

- Okay.

Thanks.

Vince?
- Yeah?

- Are you a virgin?

- What?

- Have you ever had sex?
- I... I know what it means!

And I have. So I am.

I... mean, I'm not.

I've, uh...
I've got a girlfriend.

- Really? What's her name?

- E-Eliz-Elizabeth.

- Like hers.

Hmm. Coincidence.
God save the queen.

- Oh, right, but my Liz
is much younger, though.

Blond...

brainy...

brilliant.

Bus stop.

What?

What'd you do that for?

- E Street!

[TV]: Hai Karate's 2nd
fragrance, new Eastern Spice.

Just one whiff...
drives women wild.

A sultry Oriental aroma

makes men irresistible.

That's why there's a special
leaflet on self-defence

in every pack.
- Hi-ya!

Hi...!

[TV]: Hai Karate
and Hai Karate Eastern Spice.

Be careful how you use it...

- Sorry I'm late!

- Our food is getting cold,
Joanna.

- I'll be down in a minute.
- Well, I'm sure

you would've been here
well before now

if you'd considered
the feelings of others.

Ahem. Water?

- Yes.

- Someone around this table
is going to die of lung cancer.

- In case you didn't know,
we're all going to die.

Even you.

Of course,
but given the choice,

most people would prefer
to live a long life

rather than a short one.
- Yeah, but, Lucy,

consider for a moment this:
maybe we're missing the point.

Maybe Joanna smokes

not in spite of the dangers
but because of them.

Hmm?
- Jesus Christ.

- Joanna.
- Actually, Lucy's, uh...

written a poem

that expresses our feelings.
Something for you

to reflect upon, Joanna.

- Joanna is stupid
in the way she acts

She doesn't want
to face the facts

If she continues to smoke
she will die

Statistics prove it
they don't lie

Both visually and vocally

She acts so anti-socially

She makes us want to stand up
and shout

Heavens! Stop acting
like a silly, silly lout!

- God! Fuck off!

- No, don't...

- Fuck off?

Fuck.

- Lucy, I think maybe it's time
you and I had a little chat--

- Peter, she's only nine.

- She's precocious.

Come.

Sit down, Lucy.

Now...

the adult male body.

In a few years' time,

it's something you'll
find yourself attracted to.

And the focus of that attraction
is... the penis.

- When you're in a relationship.
- Right.

- A stable, loving partnership.
- Mm.

During the act of love-making,

the penis will stiffen
and grow considerably in size.

- To what sort of dimensions?

- When erect,

anything between three
and four-and-a-half inches.

The penis will rise to an angle

of between 90 and 155 degrees,

the man then inserts the penis
into the woman's vagina

and leaves a deposit of sperm.

The man
then withdraws his penis,

and that concludes
the act of sex.

- Is that it?
- That's it.

[singing]

- Ray got his Norwegian gig.

So me dad stepped in
for the party at the home.

- Mm, yeah?
- It's gonna be a magic man.

- Mum was off out
with her friend Betty. As usual.

So I thought I'd go along
and give him some support.

- 1 don't wanna go in the box!
- You're going in.

- I think he was a bit nervous.
- You've been a lovely audience.

I've been the Reverend
Anthony Cooper.

Now I want you to put
your hands together

and welcome the very special
talent of Mr. Harold Smith.

[applause]
[piano playing]

- Thank you, thank you.

H-h-hello, everyone.

Uh, very nice to here
for Mrs. Battersby's 100th.

Now, this is...
- He kicked off

with the mind-reading trick
he did at Christmas.

- ... if I'm not very good.

It's no good,
I'm getting a blank.

[snoring]

- But if his first trick

didn't make
much of an impression,

his second was nothing short
of breathtaking.

- I shall, through nothing more
than the power of thought,

attempt to stop your watches.

- Hey, now, this is good.
Look at your watch. Go on.

- Th-thank you, Madge.
Thank you. The lovely Madge.

Right.

After three.

One. Two.
[all]: One.

[newscaster]: And in local news,
three pensioners died

during a magic trick
that went tragically wrong.

Mr. Smith, a 55-year-old
retired clerk, was making

his first public performance...
[2nd newscaster]: ... cut short

by the sudden and mysterious
deaths of three guests,

during a performance by local
entertainer Mr. Harold Smith.

The spokesman said a thorough
investigation is now underway

and a number of witnesses

are helping them
with their inquiries.

John North was at the scene
earlier today.

- Mum's seeing
a lot of Betty recently.

[newscaster]: ... at
the 100th-birthday party...

- Think of a number, Vince.

Thirty-five.

- Very good, Dad.
- ... three of the party-goers

mysteriously died,
and while the party magician,

a Mr. Harold Smith,
was in the middle of his act.

- Bloody Nora!

[TV]: This is Hai Karate.
And this unsuspecting girl...

- How... how did you do that,
Dad?

[TV]: ... irresistible scent.

- Hi-ya!

- I really like this one.

[TV]: ... can turn
a usually docile woman

into a ravenous creature.

... irresistible. But every pack
of Hai Karate

carries central instructions

on self-defence.

[clock ticking]

- "Hello."

"Howdy."

[dring!]

- Hello.

Hello?

[dring!]

- Howdy. It's Vince. Well,
it was the last time I looked.

[snorting]
God, I'm bored.

I'm so bored, I think
I'm going to have a coma.

Anyway, I was thinking...

[feedback]

... because I do occasionally,
believe it or not,

wondering if you'd fancy
a spin down the Roxy tonight.

I-l mean, hey,
it might not be your scene,

but I thought I'd call
‘cause I reckon

Turd-Tache
has got it in for me today.

So, what do you say?
[laughter]

I reckon
it could be pretty groovy.

But... but if you're busy...

If you're busy...
[feedback]

[laughter]

Busy.
[feedback]

[laughter]

Rrrr...

[feedback and laughter]

- A night down the Roxy
with little Vincent Smith.

Who'll start the bidding?

[laughter]

I am suddenly unavailable,
personally, tonight,

‘cause I'm staying in
to wash my turd-tache.

[laughter]

All right, trusty slaves,
comedy interlude over.

Back to the tedium

of the working day.
If you please.

Good?

- Nice speech.
For Elizabeth, was it?

- Who?

- Your girlfriend,
Queen Elizabeth.

- Oh! Oh, Elizabeth.
That's right.

Great dancer.

- Ah, that's a shame. I would
love to have gone with you.

- The people who write this
filth should be locked away.

- Locked away?
Would you throw away the key?

And if so, where?

And would you have
a duplicate made?

In case you couldn't find--

- Oh, God!
- Oh, please!

- What's happening?
Get away, you little tart!

We're trying
to discuss pornography!

Yes, they're very nice, but
I don't want them in my face!

["l Love to Love"
by Tina Charles]

I love to love...

... My baby
just loves to dance

The minute
the band begins to swing it

He's on his feet to dig it

And dance the night away...

Stop I'm spinning like a top

We'll dance until we drop

But if I have my way...

- "Agent Smith, undercover.
I'm under surveillance.

"Will you kindly dance with me?
Because if you dance solo,

"suspicions may be aroused--"
- And it might blow my cover.

- It's a crock.
- Get off! It's bloody magic.

- Oh, here's a good one.

"Do you go for happy,
witty millionaires?

"And if they say yeah,

"you say 'In that case,
may I buy you a drink?"

"And if they say no, you say
‘Good, 'cause I'm none of them.

"What're you drinking?'
So either way, it works.

- Yeah, with a line like that,
pal, you can't lose.

Now get in.

[honking]

["Boogie Nights" by Heatwave]

Oh, here she comes.

Ladies.

- Do you go for happy,
witty millionaires?

- Fuck off.

- Agent Smith.

Agent.

Like, uh... Bond! James Bond.

- Hey, 007, why don't you...

sod off.

- I'm in, mate!
- What?

- Nine and a half
and a bloody cracker!

She's had her tongue
down me throat

for the past hour!
Come and have a look!

- I later discovered
me mum's friend, Betty,

had moved to Canada. In 19689.

So it wouldn't have been easy
for me mum

to see her every night.
- You've met before?

- The odd once or twice.

Vince, wait! I can explain!

- All right.

Go on, then.

- Got a nice bum.

- Oh... well,
that's all right, then.

Isn't it?

Walter and me mum.

Me best mate and me mum.

Bloody hell.

You know,

that was the last time
I ever went to the Roxy.

But the thing is,

I really
should've been grateful.

Because if that hadn't happened,

what happened next
wouldn't have happened.

And my life would've been
completely different.

- Everything is shit!
[girl laughing]

Everything fucking thing!

[punk-rock music]

Fucking fuck, wanker!

- You know when you see
someone and it's like, ping,

they're the one.

Your brain turns to jelly,
your legs turn

to blancmange,
your heart is beating --

boom, boom, boom -- like it
wants to jump out of your mouth

and do a tango on the table.

And you've got to have them,
‘cause it's like... destiny.

- Bastards!
- Yeah...

bastards.

["Ever Fallen in Love"
by the Buzzcocks]

I am an anarchist.

["Anarchy in the UK"
by The Sex Pistols]

I am an anti-Christ

Iam

An anarchist

Don't know what I want
but I know how to get it

I wanna destroy

The passerby

‘Cos I...

Wanna be...

Anarchy...

No dog's body

Anarchy for the UK

It's coming sometime
and maybe

I give a wrong time

Stop a traffic line

Your future dream
is a shopping scheme

‘Cos I...

I wanna be...

Anarchy...

In the city

[music]

[music stops]

[TV]: was around 147.7
outdoors last year,

and was 1,500-metre finalist,
running away now

and showing some of his seniors
the way to go.

Opened up a considerable gap...

[alarm sounding]

[punk-rock music]

- Fuck off!

- Hello.

Lovely day.

A bit chilly, though.

- What in the name of fuck
is that?

- It's a bit chilly.
- It's a bit chilly.

- Walking on the beaches,
looking at the...

peaches!

Say cheese.

- Seems like a nice bloke.

So, in a few short days,

me mum had got off
with me best mate,

I'd fallen in love
with a punk girl

and become a punk,

and me dad had accidentally
killed three pensioners.

It seemed about time
things got back to normal.

But it wasn't to be.

[TV]: In South York, today,

police arrested a 55-year-old
local trickster, Harold Smith,

over the sudden deaths
of three local pensioners.

Eyewitnesses claim they fell
from their chairs and died

during a magic trick
that went horribly wrong.

Mr. Paul Trist, the manager
of the old-people's home,

who saw the act,
said, "He wasn't very good."

- All right, Mr. Smith,
uh, I'm your lawyer,

and this is Joanna,
a very promising

young clerk with our firm.

She'll be making notes
during the discussion

for future reference.
- Hello.

- And, uh, Vince you know.

- So you're his dad?

- Joanna, no need to kick a man
when he's down.

Ah, well,
let's get down to business.

Three deaths and the finger
of blame pointed at you.

What's going on here?

- Well, I-l think it's because
I made them--

- Pacemakers.
- I-I-l made them stop,

with me mind.

- Uh... well, yes, of course.

But, uh, I mean,
you didn't really, now did you?

- Yes, I did.

- No, you didn't.
- Yes, I did.

- No, you didn't. Because....

if you had, a law of nature
would've been transgressed,

the impossible
would've occurred.

Now, are you in the habit
of making the impossible occur?

- Well, I don't know
if I'd put it like that.

- Well, how would you put it?

- Well, it all goes back a bit,
you see.

- Load us onto your magic carpet
and transport us to the past.

- Well, it started when
I was just a kid, a little lad.

I discovered I could
make things move about,

that sort of thing,
just by thinking.

I-l used to mess about with it,
you know, do little tricks

for me mates. And one
of me mates, me best pal, Lenny,

one day Lenny said
did I want to go out

for a day trip to Blackpool
with his mum and his dad,

who was the vicar.
So I said, "Aye,

why not."
And, oh, it were a grand day.

Do you know, I think it...

I think it were the best day
of me life.

Yeah. Went on this...

great big roller-coaster.

Anyway, we-we got back
to Lenny's house,

vicarage, in time for his tea,

and then his dad said
he'd heard from Lenny

that I were a bit of a one
for the magic tricks

and would I do
a little turn for them.

Lenny said, "Go on, Harold,
make summat float.”

So I said, uh,

"All right.”
- May we anticipate

some point to this, uh,
touching little tale?

- No, I'm-'m...

I'm getting to it.

You-you see,
Lenny had a tortoise. Knobby.

Were it Louie?

[sighing]

No, no. Knobby.

It-it was a lively little chap,
Knobby, for a tortoise,

nice, bright eyes.

So, anyroad, I thought,
I know what I'll do,

I'll make Knobby float.

So sat him down on the rug
and everybody gathered round --

I don't know if Knobby
were a bit nervous,

because he nipped back
into his shell --

but I got on with it.
I looked at him and concentrated

and I thought, Rise, Knobby.
Rise.

But, uh, it weren't coming easy.
Well, I suppose a tortoise

is, uh, a lot heavier
than a pen, or a coin.

Lenny's mum and dad
were sitting there watching,

and I could tell
they were thinking,

This lad is a couple of slices
short of a loaf.

So I really gave it some wallop.

And it worked.

Knobby started to rise.

Up, up, up.

You could've cut the air
with a knife.

He gets to about a foot,

and I thought,
I'll just hold him there,

hovering.

And just then,
his little head popped out.

He started looking around,

as if to say, "Hey,
what's going on here, then?"

And his little arms and legs
came out

and started waggling about.
Maybe I should've guessed,

but, uh, anyway,
then it happened.

- What?

- Knobby, like, well...

exploded.

Oh, dear.
[laughing softly]

Oh, dear. I mean,
it could've been dangerous.

Flying fragments
of tortoise shell,

it's like shrapnel. It could've
taken someone's eye out.

Fortunately,

no one was hurt. Though I do
believe an ornamental china duck

copped it, but, oh,

it was a right bloody mess.
What a to-do.

The very next day,

Lenny stole
my champion conker.

Well, after that, I thought

this magic stuff were more
trouble than it were worth,

so I stopped doing it.

Until Mrs. Battersby's 100th,
that is.

- Hmm.

Well...

what a very quaint little tale,
Mr. Smith,

but, uh, well, it was...

a lot of old nonsense,
weren't it?

- No, it wasn't.
- Yes, it was.

- No, it was not.

- All right, fine.
Mr. Miraculo...

off you go.

I'm going to... suggest

to the police that they are
holding you on grounds

that are quite plainly absurd,
and arrange a meeting

with an expert witness,
a man of science

and reason to confirm this.

In the meanwhile,
we'll have you home

by teatime.

Good day, Mr. Smith.

- God, your dad is amazing!

- You think so?
- Nonsense.

He's a complete
and utter charlatan.

Exempt from the laws of nature?

Joanna, isn't your father

something of a... expert
in such matters?

- Oh, hello. Yes, I'd like
to make an appointment

with Dr. Bannister, please.

- Hocus-pocus,

or mumbo-jumbo?

Can the humble conjuring trick

really be harmful
to your health?

Well, it seems it might be
if it's Mr. Harold Smith

who's puling the rabbits
out of the hat. Mr. Smith,

seen here with the winning catch
from the 1967 Don Valley

angling competition, was today
released from police custody

pending tests to establish...
[yawning]

- Think I'll be having
an early night.

- Good night, then, love.
- Tired, Harry?

[TV]; Police claim
that Smith willed

the deaths of three pensioners
during...

- Oh, I see. Why not.

I am,

now you come to mention it,
[yawning]

I'm ready...
I'm ready for bed meself.

- It-it's only half-past-six.

- Fame can be
an exhausting business.

Come on, Magic Man.
I can make things rise and all.

- Abracadabra indeed.
That's it from the newsroom.

Let's get the latest weather
from Martin.

- So what do you think?
Three months? Six months?

- Peter, it's not good.

It's almost certain you'll never
run seriously again.

- Vincent, you all right, pal?

I've not seen you around much.

Not avoiding me, eh?
- I'm into a new scene.

- Oh, what's that?

- I'm an anarchist.

- What's that like, then?

- All right.

- Look, pal,

I don't want a woman
to come between us.

- It wasn't a woman,
it was me mum!

- I never shagged her!
- Shut up!

- Was just snogging and feeling!
- I don't want to know.

How would you like it
if I got off with your mum?

- Swaps? It's a bloody deal.

- Il didn't mean that.

- No, no, Vince, nor did I.
But you gotta help me, mate.

‘Cause you know when you see
someone and it's like...

ping, they're the one
and your brain turns to jelly,

and your legs turn to blancmange

and your heart's beating
like boom, boom, boom,

like it wants to jump out
your mouth

and do a tango on the table
and you've gotta have them.

‘cause it's... like destiny.

You know what I mean.

- Aye, I do.

- It. Two.

- I think you can do better
than that, Joanna.

- Actually...

- Irritant.

Double word.

Seventy-eight.

- So is your, uh...

lady friend coming?

- You what?

- Nothing.

- Oh. Well done.

-Quatre-vingt-quinze.
Your game, Mother.

- I'm going out.

- Fuck this!

Woman!!!

Woman!!!

Woman!!!

[banging]
Ahhhhh!!!

- Go away, Daz! Please, go!

- "Go away, Daz. Please go."

"Nasty, nasty, nasty..."

Fuck, shit!!

Fuck, pig, shit, nipples!!!

- Your go, Margaret. Now.
- Stop it. That's enough.

Daz--
[Daz straining]

Don't you dare!

- Woman!!!

- Don't you dare!

[screaming]

- Down, down, down, down.

- Woman!!!

- Now, now, please...

[Lucy yelling and screaming]
- My cello!

- Woman!!!

Woman!!!

- Daz, get out now.

- Ah!
[Lucy screaming]

- Daddy!!!
- Woman!!!

[Lucy screaming]
- Police!

There he is!
- That's the punk.

- Got the bastard.
- No!

Stop!
- Come on.

- Bloody hell.

Now Joanna's dad had a black eye
do go with his runner's groin.

I suppose if you'd lined up
Joanna and the punk girl,

you'd've had to admit
they looked similar.

But it had never occurred to me
that they were the same person.

Sometimes,
you just don't see something.

Even when it's staring you
in the face.

- No, none of these.

[TV]: So Peter Pringle
and Gerry Giraffe,

what can I say?
Phenomenon, undoubtedly,

but what sort of phenomenon

and why?
- Oh, he's looking

at you, Roland!
- He is, isn't he.

I hope he's not
going to nibble my knee

- Giraffes like middle wickets.
- Oh, cricket fan, is he?.

- Succulent, tender
middle wickets.

- Ah, no.
No, there are children watching!

[chaos]

Get him off!

That's your hand
and it's on my penis!

- The big day had arrived.

- Mr. Nesbitt had arranged
for me dad to be tested

by Joanna's dad.

He was convinced that a series
of carefully controlled tests

in laboratory conditions,
conducted by Dr. Peter Robinson,

an unshakable man of science,

would prove that Harold Smith

was just a miserable fake.

Well, that was the idea, anyway.

- Shall we get cracking?

- Right.

[laughing]

- Scissors.

Tennis racquet.

Cat. Policeman's helmet.

Telephone box. Runner.

Tortoise.

Bus.

Father Christmas?

[bell ringing]

- Incredible!

Incredible!

- Y-y-your favourite
colour's green,

your mother was blind...

y-you don't like bananas...

you're afraid of death.

[Whatever Happened To"
by The Buzzcocks]

Whatever happened to

All of the heroes

- Yes!

Whatever happened to

The heroes

Whatever happened to
the heroes

No more zeros anymore

No more heroes anymore

[Lulu]: Ahem.

-Charlie's Angels'
on television.

About 50 minutes.

- Don't be any longer,
Miracle Man.

- So, uh, what happened, then?
Last night.

- Oh, just... just this idiot
I was seeing.

- If he's such an idiot,
why were you seeing him?

- Probably because I'm one,
a pathetic idiot,

- But... but you're wrong!

You're so wrong!

You're not. An idiot, I mean.

‘Cause... you're not.

[honking]

[TV]: They say not only can he
tell you what you're thinking,

but he can even make things fly
around the room.

And has apparently cured this
scientist fella, Peter Robinson.

- Come here!
- All right, Ray.

How's was Norway?

- Crap. Get in.

[TV]: ... I don't know
if he makes house calls.

Well, it looks like the country
is going Harold Smith crazy.

What do you say, Arnold?

[dog barking]
I thought you would.

- Is this a wind-up, or what?
- No, no, it's true.

He can really do it.

- Hereditary.
It must be hereditary.

It's moving.

- You're just wobbling
the table.

- Bastard!

How's he bloody do it?

- Peter, you all right?
- Oh, yes.

Oh, yes. Yes.
[panting]

No, actually. No.

I'm more than all right.

I am reborn.

I want to confess my sins.

- N-no. No, Peter.
- Margaret.

I have fornicated. In 1971...
- Dad!

- I had oral sex and full sexual
intercourse with another woman.

- Dad, shut up!
- I met her

at a Chicago symposium.
[Margaret hyperventilating]

Then I began an 18-month
on-off affair--

- For chrissake!

Da-Dad, shut up!
- ... an on-off affair

with Helen Stevens,
[Margaret sobbing]

who worked with me at
the particle-acceleration unit!

Sexual intercourse
did not take place.

[Margaret humming]
Ejaculation, however, did.

[sobbing]

- What's for pudding?

- Lucy, go pack.
- I'm sure there's a perf--

- Pack your bags now!!!

Upstairs!

- I love you all so much.

[TV]: And then in a move

that stunned
the scientific community,

top scientist Dr. Peter Robinson
dramatically resigned.

-... that Harold Smith
is a supernatural phenomenon.

- They say he can read minds
and make things fly,

and bend spoons
and even heal people.

- He's not a hero,
he's a murderer!!

If you hear me, Harold Smith,
you're a bloody murderer!!

You got blood on your hands!!
You're a...

- Clairvoyant, or con man?

Healer, or hustler?

I don't know yet,
but what I do know

is that everyone I meet
seems to want

to get alongside Harold Smith.

- Do you mind terribly,

I'm

I'm just having me tea.

- Sorry.
- Oh, we just...

- Sorry.

- Sorry. ...

[radio]: ... and a tape from
Derry by The Undertones.

But first, here's a great treat:

the unmistakable sound
of The Clique and Raw Power

[distantly]: Vince!
[punk-rock music]

[music stops]

Vince!

Vince!!

Vince!

Where is he?
- Where's who?

- Your dad! Bring him out.

- Shhh! Quiet. You'll wake--

- Speak up, Vince!
I can't hear you!

- I said you'll wake
the neighbours.

- I think I'm gonna be sick.

- Oh... Wait there.
I'll bring you a glass of water.

Or a cup of tea.

- Sing me a song!

-Eh?

What song?

-You pick.

[softly]: White riot

I wanna riot

White riot
A riot of my own

White riot
I wanna riot

White riot

A riot of my own

- It's not really you, is it?

- W-well, maybe I could just...

I could--
- Why don't you just

do something!!!

- Do something?

- Yes, do something!!!

Bye, Vince.

[typing]

- ... after the dark
came the light.

- Dad?

[typing]

Dad?

Dad, are you okay?

- My report
for your Mr. Nesbitt.

Got to run.

[dring!]

- Teabag.

Get that.

[dring!]

[dring!]

- Daz, it's for you.

It's Joanna.

- What?

[with "feminine" voice]:
Is that you, sugar?

- Who the fuck is that?

- Just hold on there a minute...

Popsy.
- I said who the fuck

is that?! Hello?

Hello? Hello? Fuck you!
[banging]

[banging]
Hello?!

Hello?!

- Oi.

Say cheese.

[Daz gasping]

- Aaahhh!

Ahhh! Ahhh!
- Vince, me foot's stuck.

Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!

- Pull it out!
[screaming and yelling]

- Drive!

-"l now see

"I were a man staggering
through the driest desert

"on a barren planet
in an endlessly empty,

"meaningless
and dying universe.

"And then,
by a series of miracles" --

no less --

"the scales fell from my eyes

"and I awoke in a garden

"and everything is beautiful.”

Dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Seems that your father
is a raving, bloody lunatic,

doesn't it? Eh?

And a lesson to us all --

[over intercom]: how weak
the human heart and mind.

So you must be grateful

that as the year 2000
hoves into view,

our dependence
upon such frailties

will very shortly
be vastly diminished.

And the battle

betwixt mind and machine,
the machine

is destined always
to emerge victorious.

There's nothing you, I,
nor anybody else

can do about it.

- No?
- Well,

no. Um... What are you doing?

[crash!]

- One up for humans, Turd-Tache!

[applause]

[cheering]

- Joanna.

Where you going?

What're you doing?

- Wh-wh-what are you doing?

- Oh, I think
it fell out the window.

- I threw it out.
- Smith!

Bring it in!

- I'm leaving. I've quit.

- No, you're fired!
- No, you're fired, I quit!

-And sodo I!
- Smith!

Get back here!

Get back here!
That's a very expensive

piece of equipment! And
you can't quit, you're fired!

Do you hear me?
Both of you, fired!

- What? Back down south?
- Why stay here?

Oh!
- I did something.

- What?
- You know,

"Do something!"
I did something.

Cut off his hair.

Daz.
- What?

You cut off Daz's hair?

Why?

Bye, Vince.

- Stop.

Don't go.

But I didn't say that.

And she left.

Meanwhile, Joanna's dad
continued his mission

to tell the whole world
about Harold Smith.

So he went to the police.

Sergeant Tom Higgins,
35 years in the force,

was all too keen to listen.

Mr. Nesbitt's plan to test
me dad and prove he was a fake

had backfired completely.

According to Joanna's dad,

Harold Smith did indeed
have special magic powers,

and he'd used them that fateful
day at Mrs. Battersby's 100th.

Sergeant Higgins knew

it all added up to one thing

and one thing only:

- Murder.

Sure as if you'd struck those
poor, unfortunate souls down

with your own hand.

And we've the word of
a distinguished man of science

to prove it.

- Officer, a brief, private word
with my client, please?

Admit it.

Admit you conned them,

admit you've been
conning everybody.

- Well, you see--
- It's just...

it's just a lot of bloody
jiggery-pokery, isn't it?

A lot of rabbit-out-of-the-hat
nonsense.

Look, just-- See sense.

Deny these absurd claims,
and the whole case collapses.

- Not sure I can do that.
- Why?

- It wouldn't be true, would it?

It's in the lining
of your jacket.

- What is?

- The silver fountain pen
you're looking for.

It slipped down.

- Mr. Smith,

do you want to spend
the next 15 years of your life

alone in a 10-foot-by-8-foot
prison cell, eh?

- Would it have a television?

[music]

- Carnage in a nursing home.

Uproar in the halls of learning.
And a local man at the centre

of the storm. Today,
in a Thornton Tonight special,

we ask, "Who is Harold Smith?"

And in the studio,
to help us answer that question,

senior solicitor Keith Nesbitt,
founder member

of Nesbitt Solo;

Dr, Peter Robinson,

leading academic, physicist,

and author of Zero Numbers
and Empty Spaces,

an ontol...

an ontol...?
- An ontology.

- Harold Smith Jr.,
Harold Smith's

eldest son...
- That's our Ray!

- ... shortly be performing...
- Cheeky bugger.

-... with his father
at Blackpool Winter Gardens.

- Book early.
- First I've heard about it.

[ding-dong!]
- ... thanks to the miracle

of modern technology, live,
the man himself,

Harold Smith!

- Harold Smith?
- Hi.

- Come on, lads. Let's go.

- Vince, that's our hallway!

- So, Mr. Smith... Welcome.

Now -- ahem -- let's begin.
- My son Vince.

- Hello. Hello. Hello.
- Hi.

- Who is the real Harold Smith?

- Uh, may...
may I interrupt here

and say that my client
has no comment.

- I see.

Dr. Robinson,

you are a man of rationality,
a man of science.

You've seen what this man
is capable of. Asses him for us.

- He's a bloody genius.

Uh, well, I think
that most religions

speak, don't they,
of a second coming.

- Mr. Smith, a second coming?

- Please, please, does this man
look like the new messiah?

- Actually, he did have a beard
when he were younger.

- He did, yeah.
- It's so typical

of our age
that we expect our messiah

to ride in looking
ever inch the part. Long hair,

flowing robe,
like some Hollywood film star

with "Jesus" stamped on
his forehead like a date stamp

on a... on a tin of beans.

Ah-ha-ha-ha... But you see,

that's not
how he came last time.

No.
That's why they crucified him,

you see? Because

they couldn't accept him
for who he was --

The son of God!

- I see.

And is this son of God
to suffer the same fate

as the last?

- My client would like
to deny categorically

that he is the son of God.

He's in fact the son
of Barry and Elsie Smith.

- Oh, no, no. No, you see,
I have seen proof.

I've experienced

miracles.
- Oh.

- Right. Well, I think it's time
to spring the surprise.

Hugh.
- Right here, Roland.

- Prepared by his lawyer,
Mr. Nesbitt,

this glass, sealed tube houses
the finest A-grade

quarter inch
Sheffield steel nail.

- Bend it.
- Go on, Dad.

- Go on, love, go on.

- Uh, Harold...
Harold, listen to me, uh,

listen to me, Harold.
Harold, yes, it's repugnant.

Yes, it's obscene,
but if the circus wants it,

perhaps it's the only way
they'll understand.

Do it! Do it!

[several]: Go on now. Go on...

-l can't.

[several]: What? What? ...

- Can't?

- There were no miracles.
It were all nothing more

than kiddies' conjuring tricks.
- No, no, no, no, no.

This is... this is not possible.

- You cheating bastard.

- Bingo!

- Get out of my way.

Move it...
- Mr. Smith,

why?

- Well, uh, um...

You know, I-I-l just...

I just wanted to try something
a little bit different.

I'm sorry if I've upset anyone.
- You what?!

- Okay, stay with him.
- You useless wanker!

- Thank you, Harold Smith Jr.

- No. Harold, Harold,
I know why you're doing this--

- Thank you, Dr. Peter Robinson.

- Don't... You don't have to.
- Wrap it up...

- Harold, don't, don't be
forced into this.

[iumble of voices]

- Please get this bearded
Jesus freak off my set.

Get off, get off.

[chaos]

[TV]: ... very sorry.

We seem to have lost
our Thornton Tonight special.

I do apologize...

- You all right?
- Aye.

- Funny business, eh?

- Sometimes, Vince,
you've got to try a bit harder,

go a bit further.

Say, "Bugger, you lot.
This time, it's my turn.”

Do you know what I mean?

- No.

[both laughing]

- She's leaving tonight
for good.

But she's gonna say one last
goodbye to her friends.

Big concert.

Could be your lucky night.

- One, two, three, four!

[punk-rock music]

- Now I was really going for it.

The full-on punk gear.

I was not going to take no
for an answer.

[music]

It's
me!

- Piss off!

[music fading]

- So that was it, then.

"Piss off."

That'd be the last words
Joanna would ever say to me.

The next day,
she'd be gone for good.

Bugger.

[music picking up]

Sod it.

Think about it --

when you've hit rock bottom,
things can only look up.

Can't they?

- A bit chilly.

Say fucking cheese!

- Go on. Go on!

Get him, Daz!

- You know how it is
when you look back

and you don't know
if something was a dream,

or you just imagined it...

or it really happened?

Well, what happened next
was like that.

Just like that.

- Stop.

He's my son.

- So join the fucking party!

- Run!!

[sound fading and distorting]

- Oi, what's happening?
[booing]

What's going on?
- Oh, fuck off!

- Sometimes,
you've got to try a bit harder,

go a bit further.

Say "Bugger, you lot.
This time, it's my turn.”

Suddenly,
it all made perfect sense.

This was going to be
my lucky night.

Ah, bloody yes!

["Saturday Night Fever”
starting]

The Fever.

[whistling]

[cheering]

[wild cheering]

- What's wrong?

- I can't... I can't move.

Four cracked ribs,
a broken collar bone,

and an arm bust in three places.

And it didn't hurt a bit.

[Joanna laughing]

In fact, the most uncomfortable
feeling about the whole episode

was one of embarrassment.

[Joanna laughing]

Well, there you have it.

And we all lived
happily ever after.

Sometimes, people ask me
about me dad.

"Whatever happened
to Harold Smith?"

Well, Harold Smith
lived a long and happy life,

and passed away peacefully
in his favourite chair.

But I know
he's up there somewhere,

and he's looking out for us.

And he's got his pipe
and his telly,

and he's just fine.

Thanks, Dad.

Captioning by CNST, Montreal