Eddie the Eagle

Yes! My high score!

Champion!

Oi.

Where do you think

you're going, young man?

Rome. I'm going to hold my breath

at the Olympics.

You better take this then, hadn't you?

Put your medals in.

Thanks, Mum. I gotta get going.

Have fun.

- Terry?

- What?

He's off to the Olympics again.

Oi.

You gone mad?

I told Mum I'm going to the Olympics.

I held my breath for nearly 58 seconds.

Really? Well, I tell you what.

Why don't you jump in and we can

hold our breath all the way home?

That's about a minute away.

Eddie, all this Olympic medal stuff,

it's driving me a bit mad, mate.

Driving about in the middle of the night,

dark, freezing cold, looking for you.

When I should be at home doing what?

Watching It's A Knockout, Dad?

Yeah.

Marbles one week,

holding your breath the next.

When is it all gonna end, young man?

- When I become an Olympian.

- I see.

- Say goodnight to your dad.

- Night, Dad.

Night-night, son.

- Night, Mum.

- Night, love.

That's good flexibility.

Great. Now flex your toes.

That's point your toes towards you.

Good boy, thank you.

Now, you've got to take it easy.

Don't do any climbing up trees

and too much running around. All right?

- His knees are still healing.

- Okay.

Feel okay?

Good. Well done.

Right, that's it!

Listen, enough is enough!

It's never bloody ending with you, son.

You're gonna come to work with me

and learn to plaster.

At least it might keep you out of trouble.

- What about my Olympic preparations?

- Eddie! You are not an athlete!

- Morning, Tel.

- All right, Shirley?

Now, today I shall be finishing off

an arctic stipple.

- What did I just say?

- Raspberry ripple?

No, not a raspberry ripple.

An arctic stipple.

Which is my piece de resistance.

My plasterer's trademark that you

shall spend all day learning, young man.

Dad, you're a genius.

Where's he gone now?

You're right,

I'm never gonna go to the Olympics.

I'm gonna go to the Winter Olympics.

Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me

great pleasure to introduce to you...

the Head of the British Winter Olympics

Selection Committee, Mr. Dustin Target.

Thank you, George.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.

Thank you so much for being here...

on this glorious day for British sport.

You have entered a new era for business...

just as we have embarked

on a new era for sport.

Today it is my honor...

and privilege, to present to you...

the 14 young men who are all candidates

for the British Olympic Downhill Team.

Vying for your sponsorship and support...

in achieving their dreams...

to reach the 1988 Winter Games in Calgary.

It's an opportunity that requires

a new kind of athlete...

and you deserve the best...

in return.

Sorry. Hands up, that was my fault.

I'm sorry, fellas.

George. George.

More champagne?

Edwards, you've made

quite an impact today.

Good, I was trying to.

I think we both know that you've gone...

as far as you can go with the squad.

We shan't be selecting you for the trials,

I'm afraid.

But keep up with the training.

Aim for the '92 Olympics.

Mr. Target, that's in 5 years' time.

I'm ready now.

No, you're not.

You know, I've got run times

just as good as any of that lot.

It's not all about speed.

It's about what school you went to, is it?

Frankly, Eddie...

you will never be Olympic material.

Goodbye.

You wanna get yourself qualified.

I mean it's not exactly a career, is it?

Skiing.

I mean, how much

does a downhill skier earn?

What's the take-home pay after tax?

Is there a pension? I doubt it very much.

Get yourself qualified

for something useful.

Yeah, all right, Dad.

I get the point.

You've been banging on about it

since I've been out of nappies. Sign me up.

Good lad.

Good lad.

Made you a nice cup of tea.

Thanks, Mum.

No more downhill, then?

Not exactly a career, is it?

Not even for fun?

No.

It's about time I started paying my way.

Bring those dirty overalls down, then.

For the wash, you're gonna need them.

Ski-jumping is probably the most

spectacular of all the alpine disciplines.

A majestic,

gravity defying mix of power...

balance and dare-devil courage.

And more than a few bruises.

As Icarus and Sir Isaac Newton

both discovered...

what goes up must come down.

In the world famous training camp

at Garmisch in Germany...

you will find

the world's elite ski-jumpers.

...such as the Flying Finn, Matti Nyknen,

showing how it's really done.

I hate to disappoint you but...

we haven't got

an Olympic ski-jumping squad.

Not even a small one?

No. Last...

No, Britain hasn't had

a ski-jumper since...

Here we go. Hector Mooney.

Yes, with a distance of 22.9 meters.

And there's no plans for a team

in the near future?

Well, not unless Mr. Mooney

comes out of retirement.

But he died in 1975 so, no.

That is a shame.

Mum, where's my purple rucksack?

- Under the stairs.

- Thank you.

Why? Are you going camping?

No. Going to Germany.

Coach leaving very soon.

What about your City & Guilds, son?

Sorry, Dad, I've gotta get on them slopes.

No. Not this again, no.

Excuse me.

Hang on. What am I gonna tell

your plastering teacher?

- Tell him I've made new plans.

- New plans?

What plans?

I'm gonna be an Olympic ski-jumper.

No. No.

This is some kind of joke, right?

Dad, it's not like I'm taking up ballet.

It's still skiing.

Just a bit higher.

You name me one, one British ski-jumper.

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