Paddington | Making Friends in Prison | Friendly Faces

Here goes Paddington. Manners. Good morning. How would you like to start a gardening club? How would you like to be buried in a very deep hole? After you. Spooner R, workshop. Brown P, laundry duty. Right. Laundry. Laundry, laundry. Laundry. Oh, it's only one red sock. What's the worst that can happen? Afternoon, chaps. If you ask me, the pink really brightens the place up a bit. If you ask me, you should pipe down and enjoy your dinner. Because it might be your last. Okay. Don't worry. I used to be a restaurant creep. It's not as bad as it looks. It's worse. What is this? Nobody knows. We've been eating it three times a day for the past 10 years. Why doesn't someone have a word with the chef? With Knuckles? Two things to remember if you want to survive in here. Keep your head down and never talk to Knuckles. Thank you. Well, I think it's a great idea. Tell you what, son. You get Knuckles to change the menu and we might forget about you making us look like a bunch of pink flamingos. All right, then. I will. Oh, you don't want to do that. Aunt Lucy said if you look for the good in people, you'll find it. She obviously never met Knuckles. Um, excuse me. Mr. Knuckles? Yes? I just wondered if I could have a quick word about the food. Send a medic to the canteen. You want to complain? Oh, no, I wouldn't say complain. Oh, that's a shame. Because I just love it when people complain. Really? Oh, yeah. Oh, well, in that case, it's very gritty and lumpy. And as for the bread... Need I say more? I think we need to completely overhaul the menu. Now, I know we're working to a tight budget, but we could at least add some sauce. Oh, sorry about that. I'll just, uh... No, that's just rubbing it in. Don't worry, I know what gets ketchup stains out. Was it mustard? No. That's just made it worse. Does anyone know what works on ketchup? Chaps? Better send a priest. You listen to me, you little maggot. Listening. Nobody criticizes my food. Right. Nobody squirts condiments on my apron. Got it. And nobody bonks me on the head with a baguette. No bonking. I'll overhaul the menu, all right. Really? Dish of the day. Yes? Bear pie. I don't like it! What is this? It's a marmalade sandwich. Marmalade? My Aunt Lucy taught me to make them. You mean you can make this? Well, yes. Stand aside. Get up off the floor, you bunch of yellow bellies. Listen to me. This bear is now under my protection. Anyone who touches a hair on his back will answer to Knuckles McGinty. Knuckles, the capital N. Thank you, Mr. McGinty. Don't thank me yet. I don't do nothing for no one for nothing. Beg your pardon? You get my protection. So long as you make that marmalade. Deal? Deal. For breakfast this morning, Chef McGinty would like to propose an orange marmalade served on a bed of warm, crustless bread topped with another piece of warm, crustless bread. Bon appetit. Two choices. Take it or leave it. Are you all right, Knuckles? Yes. Well, why don't you come and join the others? Don't want to. Are you scared what they might think? No. What do they think? Did they like it? Did they say anything? What did they say? Well... They hated it! I knew it! My father always thought of a mountain knuckling, and he was right! Knuckles! What? Come and look. A strange, warm tingle in my tom-tom. I think that's called pride, Knuckles. Well, I don't like it. Have you got anything else? What? You know, for a run. Pudding. No! Fair enough. I'm afraid we only know how to make marmalade. But if you have any recipes... This lot. You're wasting your time there, Paddington. They wouldn't know they're pectin from their paprika. Well, my grandmother used to do a lovely chocolate roulade. I think I can remember the recipe. Charlie Rumble makes a mean apple crumble. And I can make a strawberry panna cotta. With a pomegranate glaze. Oh, I like the sound of that. Don't you, Knuckles? Yeah! Come on, then. Let's get cooking. If this little proverb you would understand, you will lend your brothers a helping hand. Oh, nice lines, but... If this little proverb you would understand, you will lend your brothers a helping hand. Thank you, Phibbs. Whether you are wiping through... There you go, Paddington. Oh, Knuckles. How about those paddy poles now? So whether you agree or you should disagree, you cannot disregard the truth of this philosophy. Singing life would be easier, time would be breezier, if you love your neighbor. Excuse me, Professor. What would Aunt Lucy say? Why, she's kite-full. Well, then. We wonder there is ideal happiness above, which arises from the presence of her darling love. Careful it takes, Gordon. Thank you, Paddington. Oh, fire scoff! So you should try to emulate. Resist all temptation, restrain from strife. And try to live a noble and an upright life. And this too you must learn, make the best of what you earn. Strictly learn to leave your brother's property alone. And life would be easier, time would be breezier, if you love your neighbor. Monster wasn't such a monster after all. And they all became the best of friends. The end. Time for bed, you lot. You need your beauty sleep. It's visiting day tomorrow. Visiting day. I do hope you have good news. In the past month, these three shadowy individuals have all been seen snooping around three London landmarks. Oh. We think the thief you saw is part of a criminal gang. Using the pop-up book as a treasure map. Well, it's a theory. Have you found out who they are? Not yet. Maybe I should take a look. I'm sorry, this is a private conversation. Oh, it's all right, Mr. Brown. This is my friend, Knuckles. How are you? And this is Phibbs. G'day. Spoon. Hello. Jimmy the Snitch. All right. T-Bone. Watch out. The Professor. Oh. Squeaky Pete. Ow! Double-Based Bob. Hello. Farmer Jack. Okay. Mad Dog. Johnny Cashpoint. Ka-ching! Sir Geoffrey Wilcott. I hope I can rely on your vote. And Charlie Rumble. It's so wonderful to meet you all. You must say it's a great relief to know that Paddington's already made such sweet friends. Would you excuse us a moment? What are you doing? Talking to the nice men. Nice men? Mary, we can't trust these people. I mean, look at them. Talk about a rose gallery. Hideous. And as for that bearded baboon in the middle, he's only got two brain cells to rub together. We can still hear you, Mr. Brown. That was the light you turned off. The microphone is on the other side. It's got microphone written on it. Gentlemen, if I have offended you in any way... Don't worry about it. We're fond of the little fella. And let's face it, if anyone can recognize a criminal gang, it's us. We'd be grateful for any help. Please. Well? Knuckles? I'm afraid I don't recognize any of them. Mads? There are only men in the bar. I mean, I couldn't possibly come in. Sorry to say it, kid, but your friends are barking up the wrong tree. None? A beefeater and a king? Sounds more like a fancy dress party than a criminal gang. Then what are we going to do now? Knuckles? Got a proposition for you, kid. Me and the boys have been talking, and it seems to us, if you're going to clear your name, you're going to need our help. The Browns may meet well, but it takes a thief to catch a thief. Oh. Now, if we could figure a way out of here and hit the streets, we'd find this guy soon enough. But that would mean escape. It certainly would, but we got a plan. But it's a four-man job, so we need your help. What do you say, kid? He's very kind of you, Knuckles, but I don't think Aunt Lucy would like the idea of us breaking out of prison. The Browns will find the real thief. I just need to be patient. You may not want to hear this, kid, but sooner or later, Browns, they'll forget you. They always do. They'll miss one visit, then two. Before you know it, you won't have a home to go back to. You're wrong, Knuckles. You're all wrong. The Browns aren't like that. They'll come tomorrow, and they'll have good news. You'll see. We leave at midnight. We want to clear your name, it's now or never. You in? I'm in. Right, time to call it a night. What's going on here, anyway? Ain't been good as gold recently. Down, Spoon. There she is, boys. Our ticket out of here. What do you mean? Where are we going? Might as well tell him, Knuckles. Tell me what? Aren't we going to clear my name? Sorry, kid. Change of plan. What? We're leaving the country. And you're coming with us. But... you lied to me. Oh, hey, no. It wasn't like that. I'm doing you a favor. If we told you the truth, you'd never have come along, and it's better this way. We... are gonna make mammalade together. But I don't want to, Knuckles. I want to clear my name and go home. And you said you'd help. You promised. Sorry, kid. No can do. Paddington! Let him go. He wants to get himself arrested. That's his choice. Four convicts made a daring escape from Portobello Prison last night. The prisoners all appear to have vanished without a trace. Except Paddington Brown, who was seen boarding a fare train bound for Bristol. Police are closing in and expect to make an arrest soon. Poor little fella. Must be somewhere down there right now. Shouldn't we help him, Knuckles? How? If we go back down there, they won't just lock us up, they'll throw away the key. I know, but... he's our friend. Stick to the plan. I don't do nothing for no one for nothing. Knuckles! You came back! Can't make marmalade on me own now, can I? Thank you, everyone. Paddington? He's burning up. Better get the little fella to bed. He's gonna be fine. Aren't you, little buddy?