Oh, Mr. Porter!
# I want to go to Birmingham
and they're taking me on to Crewe
# Oh, Mr Porter,
what a funny man you are #
And as the managing director
of this railway,
I have pleasure in asking the wife of
the Minister of Public Communications
to christen our new engine.
I now christen you the Silver Link.
As Minister of Public Communications,
on behalf of my wife and myself,
we wish to place on record the pride...
..we feel in being selected...
..to perform this ceremony.
In all the years I've been in office...
..I can recall...
..no happier occasion...
No, no, no. Don't stop him.
The work of the railway must go on.
That's all right. I'll listen to you.
- What's our Willie doing here?
- Come here, my man.
So you're a wheel tapper, eh?
That reminds me of a story
about a wheel tapper.
He'd been tapping wheels for 40 years.
One day, somebody asked him why he
tapped a wheel and guess what he said.
He said, ''I'm blowed if I know.''
He'd been tapping wheels for 40 years
and didn't know why!
You'll only think me a little stupid
but why do they tap them?
Oh. Well, er...
Well, you see, it's like this, madam.
If I tap the wheel with a hammer
and hear a clang,
then I know the wheel's there, you see.
Yes, but supposing it doesn't go clang...
Well, then I know the train's gone.
- That's the lot.
- Thanks.
- Dark trousers with white pinstripe!
- Here.
Ditto. Cleaning number 1-34-9.
Those are mine.
I've never been so humiliated!
My own brother,
- But, my dear...
- Can't you get Willie a better position?
- But we've tried him in everything.
- Then I shall insist he resigns.
- You mean leave us altogether?
- Certainly.
- He doesn't need to do that.
- No, he could do other things.
- Exactly. He can come and live with us.
- What? In our house?
Better that than tapping wheels.
- But...
- My mind is made up.
He gets a decent job or he lives with us.
- Yes, but...
- Undo that thing and don't argue!
Don't be hasty.
I'll see the superintendent at once.
That's more like it. I'll go and fetch Willie.
I daren't, sir. He should be fired.
But if he's fired,
my wife's going to have him live with us!
Oh, life wouldn't be worth living.
- You have my sympathy.
- Sympathy's no good. I need help.
Have you any special position
in mind for him?
No, so long as
it has the semblance of promotion.
Would it matter if we sent him
very far away?
- The farther, the better.
- Let me see.
Come on, Willie.
There's nothing to be nervous about.
I'm not. I've been here before.
- I hope you've explained the situation.
- Well, I was just...
It does not conform with our dignity
to have a relative tapping wheels.
- We've never had a tapper in our family.
You were meant to be sorting parcels.
What were you doing on the line?
After checking 200 Stilton cheeses,
- You've never given him a chance.
- We've tried him in many capacities.
What positions has he held?
In 1934, we made him chief coupler
at Miggleswick
- and you know what you did there.
- Yes, I coupled.
Yes, a coal train to the Scotch express.
I did nothing of the sort! I did not couple
the coal train to the Scotch express.
I coupled the express to the coal train.
Fancy a man of Willie's intellect
coupling trains!
On Derby day, 1935,
we put you on the indicator board.
- Yes. Quite right.
- You sent 12,000 racegoers
to a temperance convention in Wales.
- Did you hear about that too?
- Yes, from 12,000 racegoers.
- Charles!
- Yes, my dear.
Either Willie gets promoted or...
What vacancies are there?
- One for a sleeping-car attendant.
- He'd be up too late.
- A guard for a milk train.
- That'd get me up too early.
- That's all there is.
- Come on, Willie.
There must be something.
We've offered him two posts!
What does he want?
Just a minute.
Have you got any stationmasters?
London terminus, I suppose?
- Oh, no, no. I'll work my way up.
- Well, there aren't any vacancies.
See what I'm up against? Victimisation.
- That's the one job I know I can do.
- What's this?
It's just come in.
A place in Ireland called Buggleskelly.
There's a place in Wales called
Llanfogwhyllwhylantysiliogogogogola.
They want a stationmaster
at Buggleskelly. Excuse me one minute.
Mr Leadbetter, I thought we'd filled that
stationmaster post at Buggleskelly.
Yes, sir, but it's vacant again.
Don't know, sir. We've sent them
five stationmasters in 12 months.
What happened to the last one?
I'll read you his letter.
Sounds a bit queer.
''Sir. Since coming here, I have
discovered I am Napoleon Bonaparte.
''Since you won't transfer me
to Waterloo, I resign.
''PS. Forward all mail to Moscow.
Extraordinary. And the one before him,
why did he leave?
No idea, sir.
But I remember we sent a wreath.
- Sounds the very place.
- Can I have it?
- You've got it.
- It's rather off the beaten track.
- Oh, as long as it's near the railway.
- Let me see.
Here's our line,
running through Northern Ireland
and here is Buggleskelly...
Would you mind?
Thanks.
What a grand clock
you have there, mister.
It was a present from my staff
when I left London.
What might the inscription be?
''To William Porter,'' - that's me -
''from his colleagues on his promotion
to stationmaster at Buggleskelly.''
What's that he said?
This gentleman is the new stationmaster
at Buggleskelly.
- Poor man. And him a stranger.
- Why? What's wrong with it?
You're a brave man. No chick nor child
o' mine'll walk abroad there after dark.
- Is it damp or something?
- Did you ever hear of one-eyed Joe?
- Follow?
You'll be a lucky man
He was murdered by the railway,
so he was.
In the old days, he was a rich man
and a miser too.
He owned the mill on Pooker Hill.
You should be able to see it from here.
One day, the railway came along
and ran a tunnel right through the hill
without by-your-leave or nothing.
He should have sued them.
He cursed the tunnel. He swore that any
train entering it should never come out.
That would mess up the timetables.
The first train that came along, there
stood one-eyed Joe, his arms upraised.
''Hold back,'' he cried.
- But the driver rode straight on.
- Over cock-eyed Joe?
And the next morning,
his body was found on the line.
And every night,
when the moon gives light,
The ghost of the miller is seen
As he walks the track
with a sack on his back
Down to the Black Borheen
And the mill wheels turn
though the night is still
And the elf lights flash
from the ruined mill
He haunts the station, he haunts the hill
and the land that lies between!
- Buggleskelly.
- Oh.
- Oh. That's your... Pardon.
- Thanks.
Hey, it says two miles to Buggleskelly.
- I can't help it.
- How do I get there?
Walk. Follow this road
around Pooker Hill
past the witch's oak,
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"Oh, Mr. Porter!" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/oh,_mr._porter!_15125>.
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