Burke And Hare Page #3

I commend you both

on account of his freshness.

Thank you, Doctor.

Why is he bent in half like that?

Er, this man obviously died

in some kind of construction accident.

That is exactly what hap--isn't that

exactly what happened, Mr. Burke?

Aye, Mr. Hare, yeah,

that's exactly what happened.

Right.

I'll give you 3 pounds.

We was looking for 6 pounds, sir.

I'm afraid I can go no higher

than 4 pounds 10 shillings.

Doctor Knox, sir, y-you yourself

complimented us on account of its...

freshness, sir.

Quite the salesman, aren't you,

uh, Mr. Hare?

Could you make it

What with so much... construction work

going on in Edinburgh,

if we were to, uh, stumble on

any other unfortunates...

would you be interested,

Doctor?

I'll give you 5 pounds for your efforts,

gentlemen.

And I'll pay you the same for any more

unfortunates that you can deliver,

Except in the summer, when we have

a few problems keeping them fresh.

I completely understand,

Doctor Knox.

All right, Patterson.

Prepare this gentleman for the lecture.

What about his, uh...

posture, sir?

Uh, straighten him out.

I'm sure he won't complain.

- Sir?

Unbend him.

These fellows will assist you.

And then show them out.

Goodnight.

All right,

give me a hand with this.

Here's to our new product.

And where exactly

are we gonna find more?

Oh, there's lots more... product

just waiting for us to dig it up.

He's looking at me.

I'm sure he knows

what we're doing.

Forget the damn dog, Willy.

Just keep an eye out for the militia.

-- You know this is hallowed ground.

-- Touch of frost is all.

Look lively, men.

Who goes there?!

Fix bayonets!

It's the militia!

Listen up, lads!

Agh!

They got guns!

Oh, for pity's sake, Private.

Come on.

Be careful.

Either we give ourselves up

and risk being transported,

or we run for it

and risk getting shot.

As much as I like to travel,

I think I'm gonna go with the latter.

-- On three.

-- Right. One...

Ow!

Well shot, sir!

Thank you, Sergeant.

I can't believe this.

Six years in the Donegal Militia,

and I never got a scratch.

And three hours as a grave robber,

and I get shot in the arse.

All right, Willy,

show me your wounds.

All right, just be careful.

I think you've got a perfectly

lovely arse.

Evening, Mrs. McFie.

Is it bad?

It's nothing but a scratch,

you big baby.

-- Well, it still hurts.

-- Come on, Willy.

Oh, who was that screaming

in the graveyard like a wee girl?

You!

For the love of Lord Jesus.

She's fallen off the wagon again.

Are you all right, love?

It's God.

He's punishing us.

Oh, you know that's not true.

First Old Donald.

Now Joseph.

What's happened to Joseph?

That's two rents just gone.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes