[God] Aziraphale. Angel of the Eastern Gate.
[Aziraphale] Yes, Lord?
[God] Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale,
to guard the Gate of Eden?
Sword? Right.
Um... uh...
Big, sharp, cutty thing. Yes. [laughs nervously]
Uh...
Oh, must have, uh--
must have put it down here somewhere.
Um...
Forget my own head next.
Oh, dear.
[thunder crashes]
[chickens clucking]
Hello, Aziraphale.
Crawley.
So, giving the mortals a flaming sword.
How did that work out for you?
The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again.
Probably a good thing.
What's all this about?
Build a big boat and fill it with a travelling zoo?
From what I hear, God's a bit tetchy.
Wiping out the human race.
Big storm.
All of them?
Just the locals.
I don't believe the Almighty's upset with the Chinese.
Or the Native Americans.
Or the Australians.
-Yet. -And God's not actually
going to wipe out all the locals.
I mean, Noah, up there,
his family, and his sons, their wives,
they're all going to be fine.
But they're drowning everybody else?
[goats bleating]
Not the kids? You can't kill kids.
Mm-hmm.
Well, that's more the kind of thing you'd expect my lot to do.
Yes, but when it's done,
the Almighty's going to put up a new thing, called a "rain bow",
as a promise not to drown everyone again.
How kind.
You can't judge the Almighty, Crawley.
God's plans are--
Are you going to say "ineffable"?
Possibly.
-[horse whinnies] -Oy! Shem!
That unicorn's going to make a run for it.
Oh, it's too late. It's too late!
Well, you've still got one of them.
[thunder crashes]
[rain patters]
Father, please.
-[loud clang] -[gasps]
You have to forgive them.
Aah!
They don't know what they are doing.
Aah!
[Crowley] Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?
[Aziraphale] Smirk? Me?
Well, your lot put him on there.
I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley.
Oh, I've changed it.
-Changed what? -My name.
"Crawl-y" just wasn't really doing it for me.
It's a bit too... squirming-at-your-feet-ish.
Well, you were a snake.
So, what is it now?
Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?
Crowley.
-Hmm. -[hammer pounds]
[gasping and moaning]
Did you, uh...
ever meet him?
Yes.
Seemed a very bright young man.
I showed him all the kingdoms of the world.
Why?
He's a carpenter from Galilee.
His travel opportunities are limited.
-[Jesus cries out] -That has got to hurt.
What was it he said that got everyone so upset?
"Be kind to each other."
Oh, yeah. That'll do it.
[Jesus gasping]
[moaning]
[gasping]
-[wailing] -[dramatic music swells]
[indistinct chattering]
[Crowley] What have you got?
Give me a jug of whatever you think is drinkable.
Jug of house brown.
Two sesterces.
Crawley-- Crowley?
Well...
Fancy running into you here.
Still a demon, then?
What kind of stupid question is that, "Still a demon"?
What else am I going to be, an aardvark?
Salutaria.
In Rome long?
Just nipped in for a quick temptation.
-You? -I thought I'd try
Petronius' new restaurant.
I hear he does remarkable things to oysters.
I've never eaten an oyster.
Oh.
Oh, well, let me tempt you to--
Oh, no.
No, that's-- that's your job, isn't it?
[crows squawking]
[dramatic music plays]
[footsteps]
Hello?
I, Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round,
am here to speak
to the Black Knight.
Oh. Right.
Um... hello.
-Yeah, come. -[stammers] I...
I was hoping to meet with the Black Knight?
You have sought the Black Knight, foolish one.
But you have found your death.
Is that you under there, Crawley?
Crowley.
What the hell are you playing at?
It's alright, lads. I know him. He's alright.
I'm here spreading foment.
What is that, some kind of porridge?
No. I'm, you know, fomenting dissent and discord.
King Arthur's been spreading too much
peace and tranquillity in the land,
so I'm here, you know, fomenting.
Well, I'm meant to be fomenting peace.
So we're both working very hard in damp places
and just cancelling each other out?
Well, you could put it like that.
It is a bit damp.
Be easier if we both stayed home.
If we just sent messages back to our head offices
saying we'd done everything they'd asked for, wouldn't it?
But that would be lying.
Eh, possibly, but the end result would be the same.
Cancel each other out.
But, my dear fellow...
well, they'd check.
Michael's a... bit of a stickler.
You don't want to get Gabriel upset with you.
Oh, our lot have better things to do
than verifying compliance reports from Earth.
As long as they get the paperwork,
they seem happy enough.
As long as you're being seen to be doing something
every now and again.
No! Absolutely not!
I am shocked that you would even imply such a thing.
We're not having this conversation.
Not another word.
-Right. -Right!
[helmet clanks]
[minstrel music playing]
[woman] Oysters!
-Oranges! -Some grapes, please.
-[man] To be or not to be, that is the question. -They look scrummy.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind
to suffer the slings and arrows
-of outrageous fortune... -I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here.
Blend in among the crowds.
[Aziraphale] Well, that was the idea.
-[Shakespeare] Hang on. -[woman] Oranges!
This isn't one of Shakespeare's gloomy ones, is it?
-No wonder nobody's here. -Shh. It's him. It's him.
Prithee, gentles. Might I request a small favour?
Could you, in your role as the audience,
give us more to work with?
You mean, like when the ghost of his father came on,
and I said, "He's behind you!"
Just so. That was jolly helpful.
Made everyone on stage feel appreciated.
A bit more of that.
Good Master Burbage, please.
Speak the lines trippingly.
I am wasting my time up here.
No, no, you're very good.
I love all the...
talking.
And what does your friend think?
Oh, he's not my friend.
We've never met before. We don't know each other.
I think you should get on with the play.
Yes, Burbage. Please.
From the top.
[Burbage] To be or not to be.
That is the question.
To be! I mean, not to be!
Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!
[laughs]
[Burbage] Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
-the slings and arrows... -He's very good, isn't he?
Age does not wither,
nor custom stale his infinite variety.
Mmm!
Yeah, I like that.
[Burbage] To die. To sleep.
-No more... -What do you want?
Why ever would you insinuate
that I might possibly want something?
You are up to no good.
Obviously. You're up to good, I take it?
Lots of good deeds?
No rest for the... well, good.
I have to be in Edinburgh at the end of the week.
-Oh. -A couple of blessings to do.
A minor miracle to perform.
Apparently, I have to ride a horse.
[groans] Hard on the buttocks, horses.
Major design flaw, if you ask me.
I'm meant to be heading to Edinburgh too this week.
Tempting a clan leader to steal some cattle.
Doesn't sound like hard work.
-The pangs of despised love and the insolence of office. -[burps]
-And the spurns that we are... -That's why I thought we should...
Well, bit of a waste of effort,
both of us going all the way to Scotland.
You cannot actually be suggesting...
what I infer...
you are implying.
Which is?
That just one of us goes to Edinburgh, does both.
The blessing and the tempting.
We've done it before.
Dozens of times now.
-The arrangement-- -Don't say that.
Our respective head offices don't actually care
how things get done.
They just want to know they can cross it off the list.
But if Hell finds out, they won't just be angry,
they'll destroy you.
Nobody ever has to know.
Toss you for Edinburgh.
Fine. Heads.
Tails, I'm afraid. You're going to Scotland.
It's been like this every performance, Juliet.
Complete dud.
It'd take a miracle to get anyone to come and see "Hamlet".
Yes, alright.
I'll do that one. My treat.
-Oh, really? -I still prefer the funny ones.
[crowd cheering]
-[wet slice] -[head thuds]
[crowd cheers]
[keys rattle]
[speaking French]
[speaking French, poorly]
...mistake--
Uh, erreur.
Bit out of practise at the French.
Um... [attempting French]
-I speak English. -[guillotine slides and crashes]
-[crowd clamouring] -Listen to that.
The fall of the guillotine blade.
Is it not terrible?
Yes. Yes, cutting off that poor woman's head. Terrible.
It is Pierre. An amateur.
Always he let go of the rope too soon.
You are lucky that it is I, Jean-Claude,
who will remove your traitorous head from your shoulders.
Look, this is all a terrible mistake.
-I don't think you understand-- -I have good news for you.
You are the 999th aristo
to die at the guillotine by my hand.
But the first English.
Now...
Please. No.
Dreadful mistake, discorporating me.
Oh, it'll be a complete nightmare.
-[guillotine crashes] -[crowd cheers]
Animals.
[Crowley] Animals don't kill each other
with clever machines, angel.
Only humans do that.
Crowley.
Oh, good Lord.
[Crowley] What the deuce are you doing
locked up in the Bastille?
I thought you were opening a book shop.
Well, I was.
I got peckish.
"Peckish"?
Well, if you must know, it was the crepes.
You can't get decent ones anywhere but Paris.
And the brioche.
So you just popped across the Channel during a revolution,
because you wanted something to nibble?
-Dressed like that? -I have standards.
I'd heard they were getting a bit carried away over here but--
Yeah, this is not getting carried away.
This is cutting off lots of people's heads very efficiently
with a big head-cutting machine.
Why didn't you just perform another miracle and go home?
I was reprimanded last month.
They said I'd performed too many frivolous miracles.
Got a strongly worded note from Gabriel.
Well, you're lucky I was in the area.
I suppose I am.
Why are you here?
My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance.
So all this is your demonic work?
No. The humans thought it up themselves.
Nothing to do with me.
[snaps fingers]
Well, I suppose I should say thank you
for the, uh, rescue.
Don't say that.
If my people hear I rescued an angel,
I'll be the one in trouble.
And my lot do not send rude notes.
Well, anyway, I'm very grateful.
What about if I buy you lunch?
Looking like that?
[sighs]
Well, barely counts as a miracle, really.
[snaps fingers]
[man speaking French]
[gasps and sputters]
Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble.
What's for lunch?
What would you say to some crepes?
[guillotine slicing]
[chattering]
Look, I've been thinking. What if it all goes wrong?
We have a lot in common, you and me.
I don't know.
We may have both started off as angels,
but you are fallen.
I didn't really fall.
I just, you know...
sauntered vaguely downwards.
I need a favour.
We already have the agreement, Crowley.
Stay out of each other's way.
Lend a hand when needed.
This is something else,
for if it all goes pear-shaped.
I like pears.
If it all goes wrong,
I want insurance.
What?
I wrote it down. Walls have ears.
Well, not walls. Trees have ears.
Ducks have ears.
Do ducks have ears?
Must do. That's how they hear other ducks.
Out of the question.
Why not?
It would destroy you.
I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley.
That's not what I want it for. Just insurance.
I'm not an idiot, Crowley.
Do you know what trouble I'd be in if...
if they knew I'd been fraternising?
It's completely out of the question.
Fraternising?
Well, whatever you wish to call it.
I do not think there is any point in discussing it further.
I have lots of other people to fraternise with, angel.
-Of course you do. -I don't need you.
Well, and the feeling is mutual, obviously.
[mimics] Obviously.
[clock chiming]
[air raid sirens wail]
Mr Glozier. Mr Harmony.
Mr Fell. You are late.
But not to worry.
You have the books for the Fuehrer?
[Aziraphale] Yes, I do.
Books of prophecy.
Otwell Binns, Robert Nixon, Mother Shipton.
First editions, as requested.
What about the other book we told you to bring us?
The Fuehrer was most definite that he needs it.
It has the prophecies that are true.
With the true prophecy book, the war is as good as won.
The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch.
No luck. I'm afraid that is the Holy Grail of prophetic books.
The Fuehrer also wants the Holy Grail.
And the Spear of Destiny, should you run across them.
[Harmony] Why are there no copies of Agnes Nutter's book?
We have made it clear that money is no object.
You will be a very rich man.
The unsold copies of The Nice and Accurate Prophecies
were destroyed by the publisher,
which is, well, all of them.
It never sold a single copy.
But I found the publisher's catalogue for 1655,
and it does list one of Agnes Nutter's prophecies.
What was it?
Her prophecy for 1972.
"Do not buy Betamax."
Who is Peter Max?
I have no idea.
I will pass it on to the Fuehrer.
These volumes of prophecy will be in Berlin
by the end of the week.
The Fuehrer will be most grateful.
[Harmony] You have been exceedingly helpful, Mr Fell.
[gun cocks]
Such a pity you must be eliminated, but take heart,
just another death in the Blitz.
That's not very sporting.
You do not appear worried, my friend.
[gun cocks]
He's not worried.
Who is she?
She, my double-dealing Nazi acquaintance,
is the reason why none of those books are going back to Berlin,
and why your nasty little spy ring
will be spending the rest of the war behind bars.
Let me introduce you to Captain Rose Montgomery
of British Military Intelligence.
Thank you for the introduction.
Our side know all about you two.
She recruited me to work for you.
And now she's going to tell you that this building
is surrounded by British agents,
and that you two have been--
What is that lovely American expression?
Played for suckers.
-Yes, about that-- -Right. Everyone!
Come on!
Round them up!
Rose, where exactly are your people?
[laughs] We are all here.
Allow me to introduce
Fraulein Greta Kleinschmidt.
-She works with us. -[gasps]
[speaking German]
"Played for a sucker". I must remember that.
I am played for a sucker, you are played for a sucker,
he, she, it... [chuckles] will be played for a sucker.
Now, where were we?
Oh, yes. Killing you.
You can't kill me.
-There'll be paperwork. -[door slams]
[Crowley gasping]
Sorry, consecrated ground.
Oh! It's like being at the beach in bare feet.
What are you doing here?
Stopping you getting into trouble.
I should have known. Of course.
These people are working for you.
No. They're a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies
running around London,
blackmailing and murdering people.
I just didn't want to see you embarrassed.
Mr Anthony J. Crowley.
Your fame precedes you.
-Anthony? -You don't like it?
No, no, I didn't say that. I'll get used to it.
The famous Mr Crowley?
That's such a pity you must both die.
What does the "J" stand for?
[stammers] It's just a "J", really.
Look at that!
A whole fontful of holy water.
It doesn't even have guards.
Enough babbling. Kill them both.
In about a minute, a German bomber will release a bomb
that will land right here.
If you all run away very, very fast, you might not die.
You won't enjoy dying,
definitely won't enjoy what comes after.
You expect us to believe that?
The bombs tonight will fall on the East End.
Yes. It would take a last-minute demonic intervention
to throw them off course, yes.
You're all wasting your valuable running-away time.
And if, in 30 seconds, a bomb does land here,
it would take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it.
A real miracle?
Kill them. They are very irritating.
[air whistling overhead]
[bombs explode]
-[air raid siren blares] -[people screaming distantly]
That was very kind of you.
Shut up.
Well, it was.
No paperwork, for a start.
Oh, the books.
Oh, I forgot all the books!
Oh, they'll all be blown to...
[grunts]
Little demonic miracle of my own.
Lift home?
[psychedelic pop music plays]
So, Spike, you're the muscles,
you'll be hauling on the ropes.
And she'll be going down on the ropes then?
-[door creaks] -Hang on.
Who are you?
I understand you need a locksman.
[Crowley] I was expecting Mr Narker.
Well, Mr Narker's passed on to his reward.
I've taken over the business.
He was my cellmate. He taught me everything he knew.
My name's Shadwell.
Please, sit down, Mr Shadwell.
Lance Corporal Shadwell.
If you don't mind.
[Sally] So, what's so valuable
that they're going to leave it in a church at night?
We'll go over the details of what you're obtaining for me
when we get there.
You will all be very well compensated.
You have a question, Lance Corporal Shadwell?
Stealing from a church.
There's nae witchcraft involved here, is there?
No.
Completely witch-free robbery.
Mm. Pity.
Any other questions?
[Shadwell] You are not yourself a witch,
warlock or someone that calls your cat funny names?
Not a witch. No pets. Anyone else?
What are we getting paid?
A hundred now,
another hundred when the job's done.
A hundred more to keep schtum.
[laughs]
[Shadwell] Mr Crowley?
May I have a moment of your time?
Yes... Lance Corporal Shadwell.
What are you a lance corporal in?
You don't look like an army man.
[chuckles]
Well, that is precisely the matter upon which
I planned to talk to you.
You might remember earlier this evening,
I asked a rather pointed question about witchcraft.
-Yes. -Well, I am a proud member
of an enormous organisation.
Vast.
A secret army that battles the forces of witchery.
How nice for you.
The Witchfinder Army. Perhaps you've heard of it.
What? I thought you said it was secret.
Well, you never know when a gentleman such as yourself
might have need of such an organisation.
A man with hundreds of pounds to throw around.
If you need us,
the Witchfinder Army are here for you.
A whole army?
Think it over.
You know where to find me.
What are you doing here?
I needed a word with you.
What?
I work in Soho. I hear things.
I hear that you're setting up a... caper
to rob a church.
Crowley, it's too dangerous.
Holy water won't just kill your body.
It will destroy you completely.
You told me what you think 105 years ago.
And I haven't changed my mind.
But I can't have you risking your life.
Not even for something dangerous.
So...
you can call off the robbery.
Don't go unscrewing the cap.
It's the real thing?
The holiest.
After everything you said.
Should I say thank you?
Better not.
Well, can I drop you anywhere?
No, thank you.
Oh, don't look so disappointed.
Perhaps one day we could...
I don't know.
Go for a picnic.
Dine at the Ritz.
I'll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go.
You go too fast for me, Crowley.
[car door opens and closes]
[theme music plays]
Sorry. Right number.
I'll just go to head office and explain it all.
Yes. So, Gabriel, um...
Listen, Gabriel,
most holy Archangel Gabr--
No, that's too formal.
Hello, Gabriel, me old mate.
There is a-a-a child we have to deal with
and-and make everything OK again.
Oh, God.
[sighs]
Hello, Gabriel.
Just thought you ought to know
that due to an unfortunate mix-up in a hospital,
the Antichrist has been mislaid.
But it's alright, because I've found him.
He's living in the English village of Tadfield.
And his 11th birthday was the start of...
uh, the end of things.
I have his address, and so we just have to eliminate him now,
then everything could still be OK, yeah.
He'll have an enormous Hell Hound with him.
He won't be hard to spot.
[God] This wasn't, insofar as the Hell Hound
had had any expectations,
what he had imagined life would be like
in the last days before Armageddon.
Form shapes nature.
There are certain ways of behaviour
appropriate to small dogs,
which are in fact welded into the genes.
He'd surprised the huge ginger cat from next door,
and had attempted to reduce it to cowering jelly
by means of the usual glowing stare.
-[meows] -[yelps]
It had always worked in the past.
Dog was looking forward to a further cat experiment,
which would consist of jumping around
and yapping excitedly at it.
-[Anathema] I can't believe it! I can't believe it! -[objects smashing]
-Three hundred and fifty years my family kept it safe. -[whimpering]
Three hundred and fifty years!
So stupid!
Come on, Dog.
[Dog barking]
Hello, are you OK? Can I help?
[crying] I'm fine.
But you were crying.
I know.
[sniffles]
Hello.
This is going to sound so stupid,
but I lost my book and it all just got a bit much.
I can help you look for it.
Oh, that's sweet of you.
It's been in my family for a long time.
I wrote a book once.
It was about this pirate who was a famous detective.
I bet it was a lot more exciting than any book you've lost.
Especially the bit in the spaceship
where the dinosaur comes out
and fights with the cowboys.
I bet it'd cheer you up, my book.
I'm Adam. I live in Hogback Lane.
Thanks, Adam.
Oh, I'm Anathema.
Are you from around here?
This is my world.
From Hogback Wood to the Dip,
and from the old quarry up to the pond.
You haven't seen two men in a big black vintage car, have you?
Did they steal it?
Professional book thieves,
probably go around in their car stealing books.
No, no, no, they didn't mean to steal it.
Do you want some lemonade?
Are we going to have to break into the cottage
and battle the witch for it?
That's my cottage.
I'm renting it.
Look, excuse me for asking,
if it's not a personal question,
but are you a witch?
No, I'm an occultist.
Oh, well, that's alright, then.
[Dog growling]
Come on, you silly dog.
[God] There had been a horseshoe over the door
of Jasmine Cottage for hundreds of years.
It protected the inhabitants from evil, or so they believed.
You can just leave him in the garden.
[Adam] No. He has to do everything he's told.
My father says I can only keep him if he's properly trained.
[Dog yelping]
-Now, Dog, go inside. -[growls]
Good boy. It wasn't that hard, was it?
[God] The Hell Hound entered the cottage
and a little bit more of Hell burned away.
[sizzling]
[suspenseful music]
[God] Strictly speaking,
Shadwell doesn't run the Witchfinder Army.
According to Shadwell's pay ledgers,
it is run by Witchfinder General Smith.
Under him are Witchfinder Colonels Green and Jones,
and Witchfinder Majors Jackson, Robinson and Smith.
Then there are Witchfinder Majors Saucepan,
Tin,
Milkbottle, deceased,
and Cupboard,
because Shadwell's limited imagination
had been beginning to struggle at this point.
[TV chatter playing in background]
Sergeant Shadwell.
Mr Crowley.
You're looking well.
Clean living.
And your father, how is he?
You resemble him very much, you know.
So they tell me. Yeah, he's well.
I've prepared the ledger.
The men need paying, Your Honour.
It's hard times for Witchfinders in today's degenerate age.
That won't be necessary.
Two hundred and fifty pounds.
I'll drop the money off for you on Saturday.
Only in cash, in an envelope.
Don't take plastic.
You astonish me.
So...
There's a village called Tadfield, in Oxfordshire.
Send your best people down there.
I'm looking for a boy. He's about 11.
I don't have anything more than that.
But look for anything... strange.
This, uh, boy...
he's a witch?
Possibly.
We'll have to find him first, won't we?
Aye. [chuckles]
Well, my best operative,
that would be Witchfinder Lieutenant Table.
Call me if you find anything.
Witchfinder Sergeant Pepper.
All my family have had occult powers,
going all the way back.
-[Dog whining] -We can find ley lines.
Right. What's ley lines?
Invisible lines of force linking places of power.
Amazing there being all these invisible lines of force around
and me not seeing them.
We can see auras.
And they are?
This coloured forcefield surrounding someone.
Everyone's got one.
And I can look at its strengths and colour
and tell you how you're feeling.
That's brilliant. Why don't they teach us about them at school?
Because school is a repressive tool of the state.
So, what colour's my aura then?
Adam, I can't see your aura.
You said everybody's got one.
I don't know, hon.
It's an art, not a science.
So, what else don't they teach us at school?
They're clubbing baby seals.
They're cutting down the rain forest
so you can get a cheap hamburger.
Watch out for genetically modified food.
Don't get me started on global warming.
And that's because whales have huge brains,
and they're hunting them for no reason.
Nuclear power stations.
Nuclear power stations are rubbish.
Yes! Yes, they are.
We went to one on a school trip,
and there was nothing bubbling,
and there wasn't any green smoke,
and there weren't anyone in those space suits.
-And it was so dull. -Well, yes,
but we need to get rid of them.
Serves them right for not bubbling.
-[bell jingling] -Adam, I have to get back to work.
But if you're interested in any of this stuff,
I have some old magazines here.
You don't have to read them if you don't want.
Wicked.
[God] It might have helped Anathema
to understand what was going on,
if she understood the very simple reason
why she couldn't see Adam's aura.
It's for the same reason that people in Times Square
can't see America.
[Gabriel] So, Aziraphale...
got your message.
Have you got something big?
Lay it on us.
I'm sorry?
What's happening?
OK, ahem, so...
Well, ahem...
It's-- It's about the Antichrist.
[Uriel] Yes?
[Aziraphale] I think that, um...
Well, it's not impossible,
uh, considering all--
all the alternatives that the--
the other side,
might have lost track of him. [laughs nervously]
The "other side"?
[Gabriel] Lost track of him?
He's the son of the U.S. ambassador.
He's under constant surveillance.
The other side are currently transporting him
to the plains of Megiddo.
Apparently, that's the traditional starting point.
Middle Eastern unrest. Everything else just follows.
The Four Horsemen ride out.
Last great battle between Heaven and Hell.
Yes. Well, um...
it's possible that the demon, Crowley,
a-a-a wily adversary...
[laughs nervously]
Keeps me on my toes, I can tell you.
But the, um, ambassador's, uh, son, uh...
-Well, it may have been a ruse. -A ruse?
And the actual Antichrist might be, um...
somewhere else.
Where?
Not sure.
I mean, I-I-I could find out.
I have a team of... agents.
A dedicated team who--
who would investigate the possibility.
Um...
hypothetically speaking,
if that were the case--
It wouldn't change anything, Aziraphale.
There was war in Heaven
long before the Earth was created.
Crowley and the rest were cast out,
but nothing was ever really settled.
I suppose it wasn't.
But there doesn't have to be another war, does there?
As much as we appreciate your hypotheticals, Aziraphale,
I'm afraid we have other things to do.
The Earth isn't going to just end itself, you know.
No. Yes. Right.
[device humming]
Hello.
[indistinct chattering]
Hello.
R.P. Tyler.
Neighbourhood watch.
I couldn't help but notice, young person,
that you have a map.
Casing the joint, are we?
I'm-- I'm renting Jasmine Cottage.
Oh, good Lord, you're an American tourist.
Sorry. Thought you were a person of interest.
Oh, I-- I am.
Listen, 11 years ago,
something came to this village.
Some sort of beast or creature.
And if you're neighbourhood watch,
maybe you noticed.
Tadfield is a perfectly respectable village.
If you're coming here to smoke your fatty spliffers
and bimble off to woo-woo land,
then I suggest that you go elsewhere.
Like back to America.
[dog barking]
"Fatty spliffers"?
What did you think of that, then?
That's an angel who's been down there too long.
I don't trust him.
Hypotheticals, indeed.
[phone rings]
[ringing continues]
[in posh accent] Hello.
[Aziraphale, on phone] Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell, please.
Or, um, one of his officers.
[Tracy] I shall endeavour to see if he is available.
Hold on.
Coo-ee, Mr Shadwell.
Oh, hello, dear.
Hello, Madame Tracy.
Away with you, harlot.
There's a gentleman on the telephone for you.
Sounds ever so refined.
And I'll be getting a nice bit of liver for us for Sunday.
I'd sooner sup with the devil.
So if you could just give me the plates back from last week.
There's a love.
-Aye? -[door closes]
[Aziraphale] Sergeant Shadwell.
-It's you-know-who. -Who?
Me. Your, um, sponsor.
Listen, do you have any men free?
I need them to poke about a bit.
Poke?
Where exactly do you want them poking?
Tadfield.
It's a small town in Oxfordshire.
There's a boy I need placed under observation.
I-I need to know where he is at all times.
I can give you his address.
I'll put a squad of my best men onto it.
Oh, good. Thank you so much.
[Aziraphale] Oh, and I should have asked about Witchfinder Major Milkbottle.
I was so sorry to hear of his untimely end.
I sent flowers.
Aye, the flowers were appreciated.
And so was the extra £20 for the family.
He was a brave man.
Oh, I was flabbergasted when you told me how he died.
Aye. A brave man.
I'll be by the bookstore, um, next week
to pick up your annual dues.
Squad of best men to Tadfield, dear fellow.
And keep them there until I give you more orders.
Now, the boy is called...
Adam Young.
And his address is number four, Hogback Lane, Tadfield.
Have you got it?
[Shadwell] Absolutely, Your Honour.
-Tadfield it is. -Right. Pip-pip.
And let me know when your men are in position.
Pip-pip.
Great southern pansy.
Find any witches yet, Witchfinder Private Pulsifer?
Even better than that.
I found something really interesting.
Hmm.
I've discovered some unusual weather patterns.
There's a town in Oxfordshire
with some very strange weather events.
Oh? Raining blood?
Or raining fish?
Satanic frost in summer withering the crops
after some hag got into an argument with a farmer?
No. It's just...
it always has perfect weather for the time of year.
You call that a phenomenon?
Normal weather for the time of year isn't normal.
Crisp autumns, long, hot Augusts.
The kind of weather you used to dream of as a kid.
[Newt] It's snowed there every Christmas Eve for the last 11 years.
Not interested.
Just look for witches and witch-caused phenomenon-enoms.
[God] He called himself "Dr Raven Sable",
but you know him by another name.
He loves hunger.
He loves people not eating enough in fancy restaurants.
Your main course, madam.
Chicken froth on a reduction of broccoli gel
with a mushroom foam.
And the chef recommends that you have this first.
A balloon filled with lavender-scented air.
It is the first course.
[Sable] It just occurred to me.
I've never seen a room full of rich people so hungry before.
[God] He's a businessman with a chain of restaurants.
And he's about to launch something new.
Chow: food-free food.
["Hound Dog" playing]
Artificial bun. Artificial burger.
Fries that have never seen a potato.
Foodless sauces.
And... we're rather proud of this:
a completely artificial dill pickle.
The shake doesn't contain any actual food content either.
Well, nobody's shakes contain any actual food content.
OK, let's try it out.
Press this button when you hand over the Chow.
And don't call it "food". It's Chow.
[electronic voice] Chow-brand unfood contains spun,
plaited and woven protein molecules
designed to be ignored by your digestive enzymes,
no-cal sweeteners, oil replacements, fibrous materials,
colourings and flavourings. Chow is an edible substance
and must not be confused with food.
Eating Chow can help you to lose weight, hair and kidney functions.
May cause anal leakage. Enjoy your meal.
Party, name of Sable?
I thought it was you.
I looked around, I thought, "Tall gent with a beard, nice suit."
[Int'l. Express Man] There's a package for you, sir. You have to sign for it.
[man singing indistinctly]
[man singing "Hound Dog"]
["Hound Dog" and kitchen chatter continue]
-[Frannie gasps] -[Sable] The measuring scales.
Finally.
I'm flying to England.
I'll let the jet know. When are you returning?
Who knows?
Cancel all my appointments.
For how long?
-The foreseeable future. -[box snaps closed]
Sergeant Shadwell,
you know the village I was telling you about
with the perfect weather?
Well, according to the manual,
witches can influence the weather.
What if I was to sort of nip over there tomorrow,
have a little look round?
I could pay for my own petrol.
This village, it wouldn't be called Tadfield, would it?
How did you know that?
Aye.
Well, I suppose it can't do any harm.
Be here at 9:00 in the morning, afore you leave.
What for?
Your armour of righteousness.
[phone rings]
[Crowley, on phone] It's me.
Meet me at the third alternative rendezvous.
Is that the old bandstand, the number 19 bus,
or the British Museum café?
The bandstand. I'll be there in 15 minutes.
-[crows cawing] -[TV plays in background]
Dad, did you know that there are ley lines everywhere?
No, Adam. Ley lines are rubbish.
Oh, you'll like this bit, Deirdre.
They've taped the gun under the chair.
-[laughs] -It's not rubbish.
They wouldn't write about it in magazines if it was rubbish.
[laughing]
There's people from Tibet watching everything we do
through hidden tunnels.
-[woman on TV, indistinct] -[suspenseful music swells]
I think I might go to bed early, actually.
[whispers] Do you think he's alright?
He's fine.
[Crowley] Well?
-Any news? -Um...
What-what kind of news would that be?
Well, have you found the missing Antichrist's name,
address and shoe size yet?
His shoe size? Why-- Why would I have his shoe size?
It's a joke. I've got nothing either.
It's the Great Plan, Crowley.
Yeah. For the record,
great pustulent mangled bollocks
to the Great blasted Plan!
May you be forgiven.
I won't be forgiven.
Not ever.
That's part of a demon's job description.
Unforgiveable. That's what I am.
You were an angel once.
That was a long time ago.
We find the boy. My agents can do it.
And then what?
We eliminate him?
Someone does. I'm not personally up for killing kids.
You're the demon. I'm the nice one.
I don't have to kill children.
-Uh-uh-uh... -If you kill him,
then the world gets a reprieve
and Heaven does not have blood on its hands.
Oh, no blood on your hands?
That's a bit holier-than-thou, isn't it?
I am a great deal holier than thou. That's the whole point.
You should kill the boy yourself.
Holi-ly.
I am not killing anybody.
This is ridiculous. You are ridiculous.
I don't even know why I'm still talking to you.
-Well, frankly, neither do I. -Enough, I'm leaving.
You can't leave, Crowley.
There isn't anywhere to go.
It's a big universe.
Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo,
we can go off together.
Go off together?
Listen to yourself.
How long have we been friends?
Six thousand years!
Friends? We're not friends.
We are an angel and a demon.
We have nothing whatsoever in common.
-I don't even like you. -You do.
Even if I did know where the Antichrist was,
I wouldn't tell you. We're on opposite sides.
We're on our side.
There is no "our side", Crowley.
Not anymore.
It's over.
Right.
Well, then...
[grunts]
Have a nice doomsday.
[TV plays in background, muffled]
Brilliant.
[voices, whispering] You can do it.
[voices overlapping]
It's getting closer.
It's getting stronger.
[Klaxon siren wails]
[whispers continue]
[whispers fade]
[alarm continues]
-That's a bit-- -[man] Impossible.
Is this a joke?
[woman] 240 megawatts of power
are currently being produced by this power station, Eric.
It's just, according to our indicators,
nothing's producing them.
What do you mean I have to authorise it?
Is there anyone else?
I know I'm the minister.
Well, then, yes.
I authorise you to open the bloody thing up.
[Geiger counter clicking]
[woman] Oh.
There's something you don't see every day.
An enormous room without a nuclear reactor in it.
But... there's nothing there.
Not nothing, chief.
[woman] It looks like a sherbet lemon.
[indistinct, overlapping whispers resume]
Mend it all. End it all.
End it all.
[upbeat theme music plays]