Yellow Submarine Page #3

she's puttered out.

- Maybe we should call a road service.

- Can't. No road.

And we're not sub-scribers.

Subscribers!

I know something about motors.

Let me have a look.

- Here.

- Is that the motor?

Can't you tell one

when you see one?

Of course I can.

Let me peruse it.

- What do you think?

- I think I burned my finger.

Here, lads. Look at this.

- What do you think it is?

- Nothing.

Looks like nothing.

It's a local inhabitant.

He's probably one of the nothings.

At least that's something.

Let's show him our motor.

Steady on. You don't want to show

your motor to just anybody.

But this is a nobody.

Medic, pedic, zed oblique,

orphic, morphic, dorphic, Greek.

Ad hoc, ad loc and quid pro quo.

So little time, so much to know.

Can you tell us where we're at?

A true Socratic query, that.

And who the Billy Shears are you?

Who? Who indeed am I?

Jeremy?

Hillary?

Boob?

- Ph. D?

- Who?

Eminent physicist, polyglot, classicist,

prize-winning botanist,

hard biting satirist,

- talented pianist, good dentist, too.

- Lousy poet.

Critic's voice,

take your choice.

- Must be one of them angry young men.

- Or a daffy old creep.

I, daffy old creep?

- Do you speak English?

- Old English, middle, a dialect, pure...

- Well, do you speak English?

- You know, I'm not sure.

He's so smart,

he doesn't even remember what he knows.

Why don't we show him our motor?

- Should we really... show him our motor?

- He may not have seen one before.

Turbo-prop, super-combustible spring.

Metrocyclonic and stereophonic,

this motor, I see, has a broken down thing.

- He fixed it.

- He fixed it?

Great. Let's go.

I must complete my bust, two novels,

finish my blueprints, begin my beguine.

Must you always talk in rhyme?

If I spoke prose, you'd all find out,

I don't know what I talk about.

Ad hoc, ad loc and quid pro quo.

So little time, so much to know.

Hey, fellas. Look.

The footnotes for my 19th book.

This is my standard procedure for doing it.

And while I compose it,

I'm also reviewing it.

- A boob for all seasons.

- How can he lose?

Were your notices good?

It's my policy never to read my reviews.

There must be a word for what he is.

He's a real Nowhere Man

Sitting in his Nowhere Land

Making all his Nowhere plans

for nobody

Doesn't have a point of view,

Knows not where he's going to

Isn't he a bit like you and me

Nowhere Man, please listen,

You don't know what you're missing

Nowhere Man,

the world is at your command

He's as blind as he can be,

Just sees what he wants to see

Nowhere Man,

can you see me at all?

Nowhere Man, don't worry,

Take your time, don't hurry

Leave it all till somebody else

lends you a hand

#Doesn't have a point of view,

Knows not where he's going to

Isn't he a bit like you and me

Nowhere Man, please listen,

You don't know what you're missing

Nowhere Man,

the world is at your command

He's a real Nowhere Man,

Sitting in his nowhere land

Making all his Nowhere plans

for nobody

Making all his Nowhere plans

for nobody

Making all his Nowhere plans

for nobody

Okay, men, all aboard.

Let's go somewhere.

What about him?

He's happy enough

going around in circles.

Poor little fella.

I don't know.

Ringo's just a sentimentalist.

Look at him.

Can't he come with us?

Mr. Boob, you can come with us,

if you like.

You mean, you'd take a Nowhere Man?

Come on, we'll take you somewhere.

Okay, Booby. Down the hatch.

Down the hatch.

A quite curious phrase.

The middle South Midlands

Victorian phase.

Its usage undoubtedly on the increase.

I must work it into

my New Statesman piece.

- That's the hatch, friend.

- Indeed.

Steady now, crew.

Prepare to go forward.

- Forward.

- Forward.

- Forward.

- Forward.

Forward!

It's awfully quiet.

What shall we do, Jeremy?

Repair, revive, revamp, renew.

Ipse dixit, just turn the screw.

- Log sign, clog sign, big thingamabob.

- What's he saying?

- What's he doing?

- Chewing gum will do the job.

A turn of the screw, and all is

and all is new.

I can't stop her.

'H' is for hurry, 'E' is for ergent,

'L' is for love me

'P' is for... goodbye?

- That was lovely, Jeremy.

- We've lost the sub for good.

- Or for bad.

- Or for worse.

- I'm sorry about that.

- But he did fix the motor.

- Where are we?

- It looks like the foothills.

- The foothills of what?

- The foothills of the headlands.

Picture yourself in a boat on a river

With tangerine trees

and marmalade skies

Somebody calls you,

you answer quite slowly

A girl with kaleidoscope eyes

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green

Towering over your head

Look for the girl with the sun

in her eyes and she's gone

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Follow her down to a bridge

by a fountain

Where rocking horse people

eat marshmallow pies

Everyone smiles

as you drift past the flowers

That grow so incredibly high

Newspaper taxis appear on the shore

Waiting to take you away

Climb in the back with your head

in the clouds and you're gone

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Picture yourself on a train in a station

With Plasticine porters

with looking glass ties

Suddenly someone is there

at the turnstile

The girl with kaleidoscope eyes

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

Lucy in the sky with diamonds

- Carry on, lads, carry on.

- Certainly was carrying on.

- I feel a draft.

- We must be near the Sea of Holes.

Don't you think we should

ask somebody for directions?

- Excuse us...

- Can you tell us the way to Pepperland?

Thanks.

Gosh, look at all this dust?

Where did it come from?

A chemical error and quite imprecise.

This is a condiment...

- Condi...

- A spice.

- He's right, you know. It's pepper.

- Pepper?

Pepper.

John?

Paul?

George?

Is anybody home?

- Where are we?

- A holey sea.

This place reminds me

of Blackburn, Lancashire.

Oh, boy...

How many do you think

there are in all?

Enough to fill the Albert Hall.

Didn't Old Fred mention something

about the Sea of Holes

- just before the Sea of Green?

- Yeah.

Through one of them slots

must be the Sea of Green.

But which? Which one?

Thesis, antithesis, synthesis,

causes of causal causation.

Jeremy, what do you know about holes?

There are simply no holes

in my education.

You mean you haven't composed

a whole book?

Great. What shall we do?

Be empirical. Look.

The booby's making

more and more sense.

It's getting better all the time.

Great. Come on, let's all

look for the Sea of Green.

The Sea of Holes...

into the Sea of Green.

Hydrolate, verdant chrysodine.

I think we're near the Sea of Green.

I've got a hole in my pocket.

Where's Jeremy?

He was over there.

- He's not here now.

- He must have jumped ship, then.

He wouldn't do that.

He's our friend.

Booby, Jeremy, Hillary,

where are you?

Sea of Green...

Pepperland.

A bit salty around the edges.

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