Oh, Mr. Porter! Page #2

Synopsis: Through the influence of a relative, a hopeless railway employee is made stationmaster the sleepy Irish station of Buggleskelly. Determined to make his mark, he devises a number of schemes to put Buggleskelly on the railway map, but instead falls foul of a gang of gun runners.
Genre: Comedy
Director(s): Marcel Varnel
Production: VCI Entertainment
 
IMDB:
7.7
Year:
1937
85 min
Website
615 Views


What's that he said?

This gentleman is the new stationmaster

at Buggleskelly.

- Poor man. And him a stranger.

- Why? What's wrong with it?

You're a brave man. No chick nor child

o' mine'll walk abroad there after dark.

- Is it damp or something?

- Did you ever hear of one-eyed Joe?

- I never follow greyhounds.

- Follow?

You'll be a lucky man

if Joe never follows you.

He was murdered by the railway,

so he was.

In the old days, he was a rich man

and a miser too.

He owned the mill on Pooker Hill.

You should be able to see it from here.

One day, the railway came along

and ran a tunnel right through the hill

without by-your-leave or nothing.

He should have sued them.

He cursed the tunnel. He swore that any

train entering it should never come out.

That would mess up the timetables.

The first train that came along, there

stood one-eyed Joe, his arms upraised.

''Hold back,'' he cried.

- But the driver rode straight on.

- Over cock-eyed Joe?

And the next morning,

his body was found on the line.

And every night,

when the moon gives light,

The ghost of the miller is seen

As he walks the track

with a sack on his back

Down to the Black Borheen

And the mill wheels turn

though the night is still

And the elf lights flash

from the ruined mill

He haunts the station, he haunts the hill

and the land that lies between!

- Buggleskelly.

- Oh.

- Oh. That's your... Pardon.

- Thanks.

Hey, it says two miles to Buggleskelly.

- I can't help it.

- How do I get there?

Walk. Follow this road

around Pooker Hill

past the witch's oak,

drop down into Hell's Collar.

- I only asked a civil question.

- The station's in front of you.

- Thank you. Good night to you.

- Goodbye to you.

Well, you're the funny-looking bird.

Why you, you flat-faced pullet!

Next train's gone!

- The next train's gone.

- What do you mean? That's nonsense.

- It's like saying the last train hasn't...

- What?

- Well, gone... Come out and let me in.

- Come out? At night?

- Not me.

- Hey, hey, hey.

- There you are.

- You here again?

I haven't been away yet! You're

keeping me out of my own station.

Phew.

Phew. What a station.

- Look at that.

- Officious, ain't you?

- No disobedience. Who are you?

- I'm Harbottle.

Deputy stationmaster when there isn't

a stationmaster which is often.

Well, there's one now, see.

- Where?

- Here. I'm a stationmaster.

- Where's your presentation clock?

- How did you know I'd got one?

They all bring 'em.

Bung it with the others.

They look lovely when they're new.

''William Porter.'' Ah, another William.

- That was William O'Shea. Poor Bill.

- Why? What happened to him?

- They put him away. Had to.

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J.O.C. Orton

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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