The Complete Fifth SeasonDVD - 2018
From Library Staff
CRRLCollection Jul 20, 2018
Season 6 begins June 16 on PBS.
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It is well to be careful who we designate an immigrant. The black man has been here a lot longer than the Angle, the Saxon, the Jute, the Norman, the Huguenot. Long before many of your forefathers walked "this green and pleasant land", it was the Nubian who stood watch on Hadrian's Wall. The motion before this esteemed house calls for all settled immigrants to return to their ancestral lands. So, that being the case, I have to say, "After you.”
This suggests that the population moved from Africa through the Middle East, then across Europe and onto Britain thanks to the Doggerland land bridge, which connected the continent to the island during the time Cheddar Man was alive.
Rs = Rh ((1-tan (δΘ) tan(α)) sec (α)
Isn't that the Rifleman's rule? The calculation which enables accurate firing, uphill or downhill.
I've only tried to keep you safe from that.
- Nobody asked you to.
You, your mum and Sam. If I've come up short,
- It's 1968. I'm not your little girl any more. People have to make their own mistakes.
What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?
Hard to get, eh?
-Oh, you've no idea.
I like a challenge.
What about the stripping?
- Exotic dancing. It's all very tasteful. Nothing smutty.
I've seen it. Doesn't leave much to the imagination.
-That rather depends on your imagination, doesn't it?
You're a common prostitute.
-You've seen where I live. There's nothing common about me.
Maybe it was only hate that kept her going. Once she'd settled their account.
-Maybe she'd nothing left to live for.
You got a girl?... Didn't think so. When did you last get your leg over? As a matter of interest.
- None of your business.
It's exactly my business. I just don't see why you get to ask all the questions, that's all. You know everything about me. I know nothing about you.
-Save it for your clients, Miss Thorne. I'm immune.
You've got needs coming off you like a junkie gouging for a spike. But you won't do anything about it. Why? What happened? Somebody take your girl? I can help you forget her. Or maybe you don't want to. I can be her, if you like.
These films are a travesty. A calumny upon Egypt and all Egyptians.
-Just a bit of fun, surely?
There is a time for fun. My country's at war with Israel. A situation you British created. My own son was shot down over Suez last July. These films, this nonsense, makes a mockery of the history and culture he died to defend.
Listen, tiger. We all do what we have to, even you.
- What I do is honest.
You think so? How many times have you fitted someone up, planted evidence, knocked a confession out of some poor bastard?
That's what coppers do. I know. I've seen it, I've lived it, so don't tell me. You might think you're above it all but you're down in the dirt with the rest of us.
All that death and suffering. For what?
-There's always some has got and some other bugger's not. Nobody wins in the end Erh! They all wanted something they couldn't have, I suppose.
It wouldn't hurt you to show some respect. Good men died so you could cock a snook.
-Grandad, you don't have to tell me who died. Christ, do you think it matters to them who stands or don't for the National Anthem?
So, what's new, Ferdy?
- Nothing new. This is Oxford.
The detective and the archaeologist. Perhaps we're not so very different after all.
- How's that?
We both speak for those who cannot. You with your fingerprints, and me with my fragments of pottery. We are, each of us, I think, keepers of the dead.
Well, you know as well as I do, that given the right circumstances, anybody's capable of anything. Plus, he had no family to keep him on the straight. Lot to be said for family.
-And what if you don't have any?
Do you think that's how you end up your days? Alone in some two-bob kip, nothing but a bottle for company? That's his future, not yours. You'll make better choices.
Who do you think you are? Some sort of detective? Throwing out your little theories. I'll tell you what you are. A woodentop. A plonk. A person of limited or no knowledge.
-I know enough not to park on double yellows.
Keep your tits out of my operation. Got it? There. You can run along now and have a little cry.
- I'm not the crying sort.
Oh, I know your sort. Good for two things. One of 'em typing.
-I believe you're unfit for duty through drink, sir. Go home and sleep it off.
You mouthy little Oi!
It's a new world out there. By the book's all well and good. But it's fire with fire that gets results. Division knows it even if you don't.
The motion before this house is: "This house believes in an end to immigration and the repatriation of all settled immigrants to their ancestral lands." This motion is not about the colour of one's skin. It is about national resources stretched to breaking point by an influx of immigrants to this green and pleasant land.
Constable Trewlove, good heavens! What's happened to you?
-Yesterday's public disorder, sir.
Well, bruised or not, your ready smile brightens our drab walls with much needed vim and youthful freshness.
Your husband should've hanged, with Spode and Webley and the rest of his Fascist shower. You've got the nerve to have something like that on display.
-I can't change the past. You know, if Winston hadn't been so eager for office, all the unpleasantness might have been avoided. My husband had Hitler's ear. We could've persuaded him. Softened his resolve. He wasn't immune to reason.
- Charming conversationalist, no doubt.
Actually, he was a very good mimic. Terribly witty.
She's very popular. The face that launched 1,000 snips.
Today, as we take leave of this place, we remember old comrades. We remember their faces, their names and their sacrifice. They were the regiment as you are now the regiment.
"The sand of the desert is sodden red.
Red with the wreck of a square that broke.
The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel's dead
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed its banks.
And England's far, and honour a name.
The voice of a schoolboy rallies its ranks.
Play up! Play up! And play the game!"
In our hearts, we ever remember the South Oxfordshire's motto -- death before dishonour.
It's people make something what it is, not the name it's called by.
'Now entertain conjecture of a time,
When creeping murmur and the poring dark,
Fills the wide vessel of the universe,
From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fixed sentinels almost receive,
The secret whispers of each other's watch,
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames,
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face.’
If you were important enough to lie to, you'd probably be dead already.
You've 30 seconds to tell me who you are and what you want, or I'm leaving.
-We're Wardens in Ordinary attached to St Peter ad Vincula.
St Peter in Chains? That's a chapel at the Tower. Thomas More is buried there.
-Oh, yes. Thomas Cromwell. Anne Boleyn. Lady Jane Grey.
The lopped heads of old England. Traitors all.
-If you know that much, you know it's a Royal Peculiar.
So you answer only to the Crown.
You love your country?
- You still beat your wife?
We're on the side of the angels. Quite literally.
- I'm not a spy.
Neither are we.
- Then, what are you?
Keepers of the secret flame. Guardians of the realm. Britain's last line of defence.
- So, why me?
You're a policeman. You can legitimately look into matters beyond our sphere of influence.
-And you can just as legitimately wipe your hands of it if anything goes wrong.
Something like that.
I have a duty to report what's happened here.
-Yes. We all have a duty. Your duty was to mind your Ps and Qs and report back to Special Branch. That was your duty.
Yes, but a little boy has been shot.
- Recompense will be made. He'll recover, he'll get over it. Just as I'm sure you will.
I should have enough for a deposit this time next year.
-A man of property.
Yeah, I suppose.
-Didn't Jane Austen have something to say about a single man in possession of a good fortune?
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