The Titfield Thunderbolt

Charlie! Here's your death warrant. Stick it up when you've got the time.

- Good morning, Charlie. - Good morning, sir.

- Morning. - Morning, sir.

Here you are, Charlie.

Right away!

Can't go yet. The squire's not here.

For heaven's sake, Harry!

What am I supposed to do, hedge hop?

Dan!

Dan!

Dan! Spare a hand here.

Come on, Dan!

Can't wait any longer.

- We're three minutes late. - Three and a half, to be exact.

- I'm due in court at ten o'clock. - Just going now, sir.

Can't go yet. Squire's here.

What's the idea of leaving me behind on market day?

- Four minutes late. - Church clock says four minutes early.

British Railways run by Greenwich not Titfield time.

My great-grandfather built this railway for Titfield not Greenwich.

My, my! So they let you have her on loan, eh?

- We've bought her! - Railway's had it?

- Closure notice put up this morning. - At last!

Nah, that's just the beginning.

Five years from now, they'll be calling this place Pearcetown.

- Yes, Emily? - The squire and Mr Blakeworth, sir.

Well, well, well! Come in!

- Emily, the ginger wine! - We're not interrupting the sermon?

No matter. You'll find cigarettes in the pocket of my cassock.

Sam, we've come to talk about the railway.

- The railway! - You haven't heard the news?

- The news? - They're closing it down.

I cannot believe it. The oldest surviving branch line in the world.

It's unthinkable. They cannot possibly close it.

What about the Canterbury-Whitstable line?

They closed that.

Perhaps there were not men of sufficient faith in Canterbury.

Sam, we've got to fight this.

It'll be a virtual monopoly for Pearce and Crump and their buses.

- The end of Titfield as we know it. - It must never happen.

- Our railway must be kept running. - But how?

There's no solution short of buying up the line.

- My dear Mr Blakeworth! - The railways are all nationalised.

The Transport Act of 1947 only nationalised existing railways.

A new company formed now wouldn't come under the Act.

Well!

There'd be hundreds of conditions to fulfil.

Get a Light Railway Order, most won't apply.

How do we get a Light Railway Order?

By means of a prayer to the Minister of Transport. It's a legal term.

You'd need an engine crew, signalmen, platelayers.

The railways are short-handed. They'll never let anyone go.

Good gracious, boy!

You, whose great-grandfather built the railway?

What are you thinking of? We'll run it ourselves!

- Good heavens! - Yes, we will, Sam!

What a thought! By heavens, we will!

- I'll drive the engine. - I'll be the guard.

Oh, good heavens! Where are you going to get the money from?

- Oh. - We'll raise it.

We'll organise a raffle, a jumble sale.

We'll revive the flower show, have a flag day, a silver collection,

a line of pennies, put on The Mikado again.

Sam, you've done all that for the organ fund. How much have you raised?

£49, three shillings.

We'll need at least 10,000.

Oh!

But if we could interest Mr Valentine...

Mr Valentine?

He's spent 40 years standing people drinks.

- Why can't he stand us a railway? - Impossible!

Sam, a railway of our own?

Good heavens!

- And a large gin for me. - In your hand, Mr Valentine.

Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, here's to our magnificent generals,

General Gordon and General Booth.

No, leave it there, my dear. Time we all had another little drink.

Ah, our good chaplain!

I was just about to invite the company to take wine with me.

- No, please let me. - I've already staked my claim, sir.

You must accept defeat like a gentleman. Mr Weech?

Well, it's very kind of you. Perhaps a glass of sherry.

Yes. A sherry wine. For you, Mr Chesterford, the same again?

- I haven't had one yet! - Oh, well!

Let us not quibble over the lapse of a few empty hours

since we last stood here together.

Was it not a blend of mild ale and bitter beer?

- Mild and bitter. - There.

- Mr Weech, you're looking solemn. - Mr Weech has had a nasty shock.

- They're closing our railway. - Oh, my dear padre.

All this time together and not one word of sympathy from me.

You must think me an unfeeling old man.

- Not at all. - But I insist.

We're planning to take it over, work it ourselves.

Indeed! And why not?

- I've the man for you! Mr Taylor! - If we can find the capital.

Yes. Mr Taylor!

Mr Taylor! There you are. Stop dodging about, sir.

You're going to drive an engine for these ladies and gentlemen.

Oh, no!

Mr Taylor's a railway servant of long experience.

- 41 years. - Yes, I know. A platelayer.

I can drive an engine better than what you can.

At what percent of piston travel does an engine cut out

- before she starts her run? - Eh?

- He doesn't even know that. - First blood to the cloth!

- Come on, Mr Taylor, have at him! - What's a Samson?

One doesn't need a knowledge of slang to operate a locomotive.

- Hit for Mr Taylor! - Get into him, Dan!

- What's a petticoat pipe? - Come on, Mr Weech!

What's the purpose of the firebox throat plate?

- When does an engine bark? - What's a stuffing gland?

- How long's your jay rod? - How do you free a clogged blower?

- How do you treat a big end brass? - Answer my questions, man!

Well, you answer mine, and take your paws off me!

Gentlemen, order, please!

I declare the contest a draw. They must both drive the engine.

- (Laughter) - If they ever get the chance.

Mr Valentine, we need £10,000 to float our company.

My dear Mr Chesterford, what is £10,000 between friends?

- Nothing, we're hoping. - Money is only a symbol. Come on.

Let's drink to your success. Miss Hampton, dear, set them up.

- You'll finance us? - I, dear boy? Charming gesture.

But what right have I to exploit your enterprise for gain?

- I, a foolish old man? - You certainly won't gain by it.

I, who already have enough for my simple needs.

This line has been losing money for years.

It's bound to go on losing money.

There's an honest man. Thank you, my dear sir.

But for your timely warning, I might have made a foolish investment.

Come along, Miss Hampton, dear.

Mr Valentine, what do you do in the morning before this place opens?

I wait impatient for the day to dawn.

Suppose the day dawned at 13 minutes to nine.

Mr Chesterford, you're a poet,

a dreamer of beautiful dreams.

There is nothing in law to prevent a railway company opening a bar

in one of its trains whenever that train is under way.

Give us your backing and we'll run a bar on the Titfield-Mallingford line

- every morning and afternoon. - Sundays excepted.

You... You wouldn't tease an old man, would you?

Mr Weech, you wouldn't joke about a sacred subject.

I am assured it will be quite, quite legal.

You can write your own timetable.

My very dear sir, you can write your own cheque!

Hallelujah!

- (Cheering and laughter) - Set them up, Miss Hampton!

- Morning, Tom. - Morning, sir.

- Morning. - Morning, sir.

- Morning, Mr Clegg. - Morning.

Titfield branch line. British Railways are prepared to sell.

These people are determined to run it themselves.

That is their intention.

You will be conducting an official inquiry at Mallingford next Tuesday.

It's going to be tough. Bound to be a lot of local opposition.

- Amateurs running a railway. - There is.

You will ascertain whether or not such opposition is justified.

- You know, Sam, this is serious. - Scandalous! Gross libel!

Yes, but we are amateurs.

Amateurs?

- Come on up, Mr Weech. - I say, Ben. You are a brick!

- Did the guard see you? - No, I don't think so.

- Come in, Mr Chesterford. - Thanks a lot, Joe.

- Driver didn't see you, did he? - I don't think so.

That's the lot.

- Open her out, Ben. May I? - Steady, now. Steady.

Faster, Alec. Faster.

It's safer by road!

In view of the very grave dangers of a privately run railway,

I feel the only solution to the problem is a privately run bus.

Hear, hear!

Quiet, please.

All right, so it all boils down to a question of safety first.

There's no doubting the fact that the Titfield people as a whole

are somewhat disturbed at the idea of an amateur-run railway.

I don't know, of course, how many have...reasons of their own