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Yellow Submarine 5 quotes

Read the Yellow Submarine quotes from movie 5 many scripted by poet Roger McGough.
John: How was it, Ringo? Ringo: Arrowing. Old Fred: Look who's back. Full speed ahead. Ringo: Oh, no. John: The motor's packing in. Old Fred: By all the sea nymphets, we're losing power. Paul: We're being swallowed. Ringo: What shall we do? George: Serve tea. John: Lovely. Old Fred: By Neptune's knickerbockers, she's puttered out. John: Maybe we should call a road service. Paul: Can't. No road. Ringo: And we're not sub-scribers. George, John, Paul: Subscribers! George: I know something about motors. Let me have a look. Old Fred: Here. George: Is that the motor?




 
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Yellow Submarine 5
Yellow Submarine 5
  The dreaded vacuum
The dreaded vacuum
  Jeremy Hillary Boob PhD
Jeremy Hillary Boob PhD
  Ringo, Paul, George, John, subscribers
Ringo, Paul, George, John, subscribers
 
Old Fred: Can't you tell one when you see one? George: Of course I can. Let me peruse it. John: What do you think? George: I think I burned my finger. Ringo: Here, lads. Look at this. John: What do you think it is? George: Nothing. Ringo: Looks like nothing. Paul: It's a local inhabitant. Ringo: He's probably one of the nothings. Paul: At least that's something. Let's show him our motor. John: Steady on. You don't want to show your motor to just anybody. George: But this is a nobody. Jeremy Hillary Boob, PhD.: Medic, pedic, zed oblique, orphic, morphic, dorphic, Greek. Ad hoc, ad loc and quid pro quo. So little time, so much to know. John: Can you tell us where we're at? Jeremy Hillary Boob, PhD.: A true Socratic query, that. John: And who the Billy Shears are you? Jeremy Hillary Boob, PhD.: Who? Who indeed am I? John: Jeremy? Paul: Hillary? George: Boob? Ringo: Ph. D? George, John, Paul, Ringo: Who? Jeremy Hillary Boob, PhD.: Eminent physicist, polyglot, classicist, prize-winning botanist, hard biting satirist, talented pianist, good dentist, too. George: Lousy poet. Jeremy: Critic's voice, take your choice. Ringo: Must be one of them angry young men. Paul: Or a daffy old creep. Jeremy: I, daffy old creep? George: Do you speak English? Jeremy: Old English, middle, a dialect, pure... Paul: Well, do you speak English? Jeremy: You know, I'm not sure. Ringo: He's so smart; he doesn't even remember what he knows. Paul: Why don't we show him our motor? John: Should we really... show him our motor? Paul: He may not have seen one before. Jeremy: Turbo-prop, super-combustible spring. etrocyclonic and stereophonic, this motor, I see, has a broken down thing. John: He fixed it. Ringo: He fixed it? Paul: Great. Let's go. Jeremy: I must complete my bust, two novels, finish my blueprints, begin my beguine. John: Must you always talk in rhyme? Jeremy: If I spoke prose, you'd all find out, I don't know what I talk about. The footnotes for my 19th book. This is my standard procedure for doing it. And while I compose it, I'm also reviewing it. George: A boob for all seasons. Paul: How can he lose? John: Were your notices good? Jeremy: It's my policy never to read my reviews. John: There must be a word for what he is. John, Paul, George, Ringo (singing): He's a real Nowhere Man Sitting in his Nowhere Land Making all his Nowhere plans for nobody Doesn't have a point of view, Knows not where he's going to Isn't he a bit like you and me Nowhere Man, please listen, You don't know what you're missing Nowhere Man, the world is at your command He's as blind as he can be, Just sees what he wants to see Nowhere Man, can you see me at all? Nowhere Man, don't worry, Take your time, don't hurry Leave it all till somebody else lends you a hand Doesn't have a point of view, Knows not where he's going to Isn't he a bit like you and me Nowhere Man, please listen, You don't know what you're missing Nowhere Man, the world is at your command He's a real Nowhere Man, Sitting in his nowhere land Making all his Nowhere plans for nobody John: Okay, men, all aboard. Let's go somewhere. Ringo: What about him? John: He's happy enough going around in circles. Ringo: Poor little fella. Paul: I don't know. Ringo's just a sentimentalist. Ringo: Look at him. Can't he come with us? Mr. Boob, you can come with us, if you like. Jeremy: You mean, you'd take a Nowhere Man? Ringo: Come on, we'll take you somewhere. Okay, Booby. Down the hatch. Jeremy: Down the hatch. A quite curious phrase. The middle South Midlands Victorian phase. Its usage undoubtedly on the increase. I must work it into my New Statesman piece. John: That's the hatch, friend. Jeremy: Indeed. Old Fred: Steady now, crew. Prepare to go forward. George: Forward! Ringo: It's awfully quiet. John: What shall we do, Jeremy? Jeremy: Repair, revive, revamp, renew. Ipse dixit, just turn the screw. Jeremy: Log sign, clog sign, big thingamabob. Paul: What's he saying? What's he doing? Jeremy: Chewing gum will do the job. A turn of the screw, and all is and all is new. Old Fred: I can't stop her. H is for hurry, E is for ergent, L is for love me John: P is for... goodbye? George: That was lovely, Jeremy. Paul: We've lost the sub for good. John: Or for bad. Ringo: Or for worse. Jeremy: I'm sorry about that. John: But he did fix the motor. Chief Blue Meanie: Glove? Come here, Glove, look out there and what do you see? Tell him, Max. Max: Someone running, Glove. Chief Blue Meanie: Yes. Well, you'll soon put a stop to that, won't you, glovey? GO, glove! Point and having pointed! Go! Fred: Sir! Sir! The Blue Beanies are coming. Lord Mayor: Not here, young Fred, they wouldn't dare. Fred: They would, they are! What are you going to do? Lord Mayor: Finish the quartet. The Meanies launch another salvo. The first violinist is frozen with a lightning bolt, and Fred catches the violin. Fred: Trio, sir. The second violin is frozen as well. Fred: Duet, sir. Lord Mayor: Duet? The final violinist is frozen. Fred: Solo! Fred takes a whack at playing 3 violins at once. Lord Mayor: Young Fred...the Blue Meanies are coming! He leaps into Fred's arms. They run under heavy fire to a temple. Lord Mayor: Four scores and 32 bars ago our father land... Fred: A quartet... Lord Mayor: And mothers... Fred: 'Nether quartet... Lord Mayor: Made it in this...Yellow Submarine... Fred: What, that little thing? Lord Mayor: ...to Pepperland. The Meanies advance while the Lord Mayor sets up his music stand on the uppermost step and tunes his cello. Lord Mayor: Climb aboard, young Fred! Fred: But sir, I can't even make me soap float! Lord Mayor: I'm appointing you Lord Admiral. Fred: Lord Admiral! Well in that event, yes! More Meanies advance... Lord Mayor: Hurry young Fred, go, get help. Fred: But where, where, where should I go? A Meanie is advancing on the temple on the shoulder of a clown whose nose he presses... Lord Mayor: No time for trivialities...