The History of Mr. Polly Page #5

Synopsis: Quiet and somewhat direction-less, Alfred Polly uses the money he inherits from his father to marry and to set up shop in a small town. His heart is in neither of these enterprises and he eventually resorts to desperate measures to break free. His random wanderings in the countryside lead him to a new opportunity that just might be what he's been looking for all along.
 
IMDB:
6.8
APPROVED
Year:
1949
95 min
39 Views


Just coming, sir!

Just a moment.

Come along, young man, I'm in a hurry!

All right, sir.

- Good morning. Nice morning.

- Very nice morning, sir.

- Steady.

- All right.

- Ooh!

- Just... Just round the side, sir.

- Ooh!

- All right, sir, there we are.

Just sit there.

(lndistinct chatter)

Ow! Oh, oh!

(lndistinct chatter)

Oh! Oh!

Oh, excuse me, sir.

(Shouting angrily)

(Chuckles) You eat better than you punt.

I dare say you could learn to punt.

- Do you want a ferryman?

- I want an odd man about the place.

I'm odd all right. What's the wages?

Not much, but you'd get tips

and pickings.

I have a sort of feeling it'd suit you.

I have a sort of feeling it would.

Give me a trial.

I've more than half a mind.

I suppose you're all right?

I suppose you haven't done anything?

- Bit of arson.

- So long as you haven't the habit.

My first time, ma'am, and my last.

It's all right if you haven't been

to prison.

It's not what a man's happened to do

makes him bad.

Bringing it home to him and spoiling

his self-respect does the mischief.

You don't look a wrong 'un.

Have you been to prison?

- Oh, never.

- Nor reformatory?

Not me. Do I look reformed?

Can you paint and carpenter a bit?

Ripe for it.

Have a bit of cheese.

Ah.

If I might.

Here's what you might have to do -

tar fences, dig potatoes

and swab out boats,

clean the boots and sweep the chimneys,

do a little house painting

and window cleaning,

sweep out and sand the tap and the bar,

clean pewter, wash glasses,

beat the carpets and mats,

clean the bottles - save the corks.

I shall want you to scrub the floors,

look after the ferry,

and deliver bottled beer and soda-water

siphons in the neighbourhood.

Ooh, and there's just one other thing -

you'll have to defend the premises in

general, especially at night,

and the orchard in particular.

Think you can do it?

I can but try.

I suppose when there's nothing else on

hand, I might even do a bit of fishing.

Think I'll go and take a look

at the garden. All right?

(Cheeping)

- (Girl) Hello.

- Hello.

- What are you called?

- Polly.

- I'm Polly.

- Then I'm Alfred.

- But I'm meant to be Polly.

- I was first.

(Chuckles) All right.

I'm going to be the ferryman.

I see.

Can you punt?

You ought to have seen me

earlier on this afternoon.

I can imagine it. I've seen the others.

- What others?

- That Uncle Jim has scooted.

- Scooted?

- He comes and scoots them.

- He'll scoot you too, I expect.

- I'm not a scooter.

Uncle Jim is. When Uncle Jim comes back,

he'll cut your insides out.

Perhaps very likely he'll let me see.

He don't like strangers about,

Uncle Jim don't.

He's a scorcher.

He only came back a little while ago

and he scooted three men.

- Really?

- He can, swear.

He's going to teach me,

soon as I can whistle properly.

- Teach you to swear?

- And spit.

- How old are you?

- Seven.

Who's Uncle Jim?

That little niece of mine

been saying things?

Bits of things.

Oh, I suppose I've got

to tell you sooner or later.

He's the drawback to this place,

that's what he is, the drawback.

I'd hoped you mightn't hear so soon.

Yes, but who is he?

She said he scoots people.

Oh, I suppose I've got to tell you.

He's my sister's husband, her second,

that child's stepfather,

in and out of jail

for the last seven years,

and me a widow woman

and helpless against his doings.

He takes me money

and he takes me things.

He won't let no man stay here

to protect me

or do the boats or work the ferry.

The ferry's getting a scandal.

I buy him off when it comes to it

but he's back again worse than ever,

prowling round and doing evil.

(Sniffs)

Er... biggish sort of man, I expect, yes?

- How much did you give him last time?

- Three golden pounds.

"That won't last long," he said, "but

there ain't no hurry. I'll be back."

Hmm, well, I'm, er...

I'm not one of your Herculaceous sorts,

you know.

Heh. Nothing very wonderful bicepitally.

You'll scoot. It ain't reasonable

to expect you to do anything else.

- How long since he was here last?

- Two months it is, come the seventh.

He came in through that very back door.

In he comes,

and down he sits in that chair.

"I come to torment you," he says,

"you old something."

Then begins at me.

No human being could ever have been

called such things before.

Made me cry out.

"And now," he said, "just to show

I ain't afraid of hurting you," he says,

he ups and twists me wrists.

You know, er...

you two oughtn't to be left.

Well, I don't see it's any affair

of mine.

I'd, er... I'd like to have a look

at him, though, somehow, before I go.

Not my business of course.

- (Loud knocking)

- What's that?

Only a customer.

Hmm. (Sighs)

Seems to be a good sort of crib...

for a fella who's looking for trouble.

(Jaunty whistling)

- (Rustling)

- (Stops whistling)

(Whistling hesitantly)

'Alf a mo, mister.

You the new bloke at the Potwell Inn?

Suppose I am.

You've got to shift.

Shift? Why?

Cos the Potwell Inn's my beat, see,

and you've got to shift.

Suppose I don't.

Look, I'm one of these blokes

what don't stick at things, see?

- I don't stick at nothing.

- Er, well...

- what do you think you'll do?

- What, if you don't clear out?

- Yes.

- Cor, you'd better. 'Ere...

What won't I do to you

once I start on you.

I'll make a mess of you.

I'll do you injuries.

I'll kick you ugly. I'll hurt you

in 'orrible ways, 'orrible, ugly ways.

You'll cry to see yourself, see.

Well, it's... it's too la-late

to go tonight.

I'll be round tomorrow early,

and if I find you...

We'll, er... We'll, er...

We'll consider your suggestions.

You'd better,

or I'll make a gory mess of you,

I'll cut bits off of you,

kick you ugly, cut your liver out,

spread it all about, I will.

I don't care a dead rat

one way or the other.

(Cockerel crows)

(Running footsteps)

He's scooted! I've been up to his room

and his bed hasn't even been slept in.

I knew it, I knew it.

Uncle Jim scooted him.

Somehow I didn't think he would.

Never mind.

(Cockerel)

Not my business. I'm not going

to have anything to do with it.

Nice place, pleasant woman,

pretty little girl too.

No concern of mine. What are they to me?

Nothing!

- (Cockerel)

- No.

No, no, no, no. Uncle Jim's right.

He has a claim.

Sort of a claim.

No, I... l... had a very agreeable holiday

and now I'd better go back to Miriam.

Miriam! Shan't go back to her,

I hate the sight of her.

No, better... better push on

somewhere else.

Yeah, that's it, that's the best thing.

Push on.

(Cockerel)

Look at that sky.

Beautiful.

Beautiful.

What's the matter?

Well, come on!

Ought to go back, oughtn't I?

I shouldn't run away again.

I've done that too often.

Got to stay and fight,

that's what I've got to do.

If I don't, I'll perish.

If I do, I'll perish.

Not my business!

Not my blasted business!

Wish I'd never set eyes

on the rotten inn!

Oh, why was I ever born?

One kick in the stomach'd settle

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H.G. Wells

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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