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In seeking his British nationalization, His Royal Highness
Prince Philip of Greece and of Denmark
-renounces his Greek nationality... -Here, sir.
...and all foreign titles.
And, from henceforth, he will be known as Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten, Royal Navy.
And here.
Philip Mountbatten...
I...
I grant you and the heirs, male of your body,
lawfully begotten, the dignities of Baron Greenwich,
Earl of Merioneth and Duke of Edinburgh.
And Knight Companion
of our Most Noble Order of the Garter.
-Congratulations. -Thank you, sir.
-Well done. -Thank you.
Yes.
And?
They got through it. I got through it.
I think they'd have preferred a nice, pink-faced marquis
with a grouse moor in the Scottish Borders.
Are you sure you wouldn't have preferred one of those?
Someone with a grand title, rather than a homeless Charlie Kraut?
No.
-Oh. -That would have all been very antiseptic.
Must you really smoke? You know how I hate it.
Pity. Because I love it so very much.
But, like a great many other things, I'm going to give it all up for you.
Well, you still have 24 hours to change your mind.
You think I can change my mind after all that?
No. Too late.
-I've signed myself away. -Or won the greatest prize on Earth.
That's certainly what they think.
Sir.
It's what I think, too.
Watch out.
See you tomorrow.
Try and get some sleep.
You too.
A naval officer's stag night? Chance would be a fine thing.
Thank you.
Question for you both.
Spot of blood in my spittle yesterday morning.
-Ought I be concerned? -Well, I'm not a doctor, sir.
-If it's just specks, sir... -It was.
It's probably just the cold weather. Gets right to the back of the throat.
Cold weather. That's what I thought.
The carriage will be cold too, Peter.
I've arranged for there to be hot water bottles, sir.
Oh, well done.
Oh, for Christ's sakes, James!
You're making bloody hard going out of this collar!
-Sorry, sir. Nearly there. -You're doing it on purpose!
Now, sir, we're not going to let something as small as a collar agitate us, are we?
No, thank you, James. Sir, eyes front. Chin up.
There was a young lady named Sally,
who enjoyed the occasional dally,
she sat on the lap of a well-endowed chap
and cried, "Sir! You're right up my alley!"
Right.
There was an old Countess of Bray,
and...
you may think it odd when I say
that despite her high station, rank and education...
Your Majesty.
...she always spelled cunt with a K.
Shall we?
You look beautiful
You'll be fine.
All right.
Here we go.
Slow down.
Are we the last?
-Yes, sir. -Good.
-Come along, Winston. -Wait, wait, wait.
Now!
Has Winston no shame?
It's a royal wedding, not a campaign trail.
He's outrageous.
But you have to admire him.
There's poor old Attlee. He's our prime minister.
-No one got up for him. -Yeah.
No, no.
Winston still thinks he's the father of the nation.
This whole thing's Mountbatten's triumph. He engineered it all.
The man who gave away India.
Dearly beloved,
we are gathered together here in the sight of God,
and in the face of this congregation,
to join together this man and this woman
in holy matrimony.
Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?
- I, Philip... - I, Philip...
take thee, Elizabeth Alexandra Mary.
...take thee, Elizabeth Alexandra Mary.
You know why his three sisters aren't here?
- They're all married to Nazis! - Do shut up!
Prominent Nazis!
I, Elizabeth Alexandra Mary...
take thee, Philip...
...take thee, Philip...
to my wedded husband.
...to my wedded husband.
To have and to hold...
from this day forward...
...from this day forward...
-for better, for worse... -...for better, for worse...
-for richer, for poorer... -...for richer, for poorer...
-in sickness and in health... -...in sickness and in health...
to love, to cherish, and to obey.
-"Obey"? -She insisted.
It was discussed.
And obey.
...to love and cherish and obey...
-till death us do part. -...till death us do part.
- Sheer perfection. - Your Highness...
You have to hand it to her. It's quite a victory.
There wasn't a single person supported the match.
Not a single ally at Court or in government.
Yet here we all are.
Utterly divine. May we have the groom's family, please?
She turned us all on our heads.
And barely opened her mouth in the process.
-You overestimate her. -You underestimate her.
Well, in the past 48 hours, reality has sunk in.
With Philip's family.
Would you look at the mother?
-Just out of a sanatorium, I heard. -And dressed as a nun.
- Are we ready? One... - A Hun nun.
Ein, zwei, drei.
Gutte schön.
To me, please. Are we ready?
Quite magnificent. Thank you, thank you.
Your Majesties?
That's quite charming. Are we ready?
Thank you.
-What's that? -This present is from me.
-Can I open it? -Mm-hm.
Oh, Papa!
If your...
marriage is as happy as mine has been,
I don't want you to miss a single thing.
Lilibet? They're waiting.
Thank you.
Put it in.
-Bertie? -Are you ready?
Everyone ready? Margaret?
-Sir. -Thank you.
Thank you.
We want the king! We want the king!
Row! Row you, bastards!
Everyone inside. We're starting now.
Thank you so much for coming. Oh, good, you're here!
Right, come on, you two, inside. Can't start without you.
-Boys, come on. -Yes, ma'am.
Thank you.
Ladies and gentlemen, pray silence for Her Royal Highness, Princess Elizabeth.
Thank you, Martin.
As I'm sure you all know,
my dear husband will soon no longer be Lieutenant Mountbatten
but Lieutenant-Commander Mountbatten.
Thank you very much.
Which, I gather, involves a whole new gold ring for me to sew onto your uniform!
Half a gold ring, darling. Half a gold ring, gentlemen.
So I've asked the two most important people here to do the presentation.
Hello? Charteris. Yes?
Ah.
Very good.
There we are. Good boy, Charles, well done!
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Important call from London, ma'am.
Charles! Anne!
Children. Wait. Wait.
They're waiting in the green drawing room, ma'am.
-Right. -Where's grandpapa?
He's upstairs with the doctors.
Now, you wait with nanny and we'll be back in a minute.
Charles, wait. Here. Okay?
-Mummy. -So glad you're here.
-We came as soon as we could. -I know.
-Ma'am, I'm so sorry... -Granny.
They're operating.
It's been two hours.
He's here.
I'm happy to say the procedure went well,
and that His Majesty's immediate post-operative condition is satisfactory.
Thank you, doctor.
That's good news, isn't it? Yes. Are you all right?
...after the votes are finally counted,
Winston Churchill is Prime Minister
of Great Britain and Northern Ireland once again.
After the Conservative Party achieved a narrow...
No bacon.
A little bacon won't hurt, surely, Gerald? It's been five weeks.
Let's cool this down.
And make sure that egg is well-plated and no shell to risk irritation.
And turn that noise off. He'll still be prime minister tomorrow.
-Ready? -Ready.
Let's get him back on his feet.
...who took office aged 83.
We await the announcement of the new Cabinet in the coming days.
Good morning, Your Majesty.
-Your first day back at work. -Who won?
Who, who won?
Mr. Churchill, Your Majesty. By 17 seats.
Good for him! You didn't hear me say that.
...Mr. Winston Churchill.
They keep trying to count him out,
but he keeps getting back up.
...and happy moment, to be elected for the second time,
as your Prime Minister.
What this nation needs is several years
of strong, steady, experienced administration.
Congratulations, sir. Dr. Moran is here for you.
Yes, you just won a General Election, but...
155 over 90.
We can do better, Winston.
Have a look at this for me, will you?
In the war, we used mathematicians to decode the indecipherable.
I need an expert to cut through the jargon.
Are they keeping something from me?
Well, I wouldn't be unduly concerned about the man's pneumatics.
And, given his age, and he's a smoker.
Catarrhal inflammation, it's not that unusual.
But I would be concerned about the bronchoscopy.
They wouldn't have done that unless they were looking
for something far more serious.
And they conspicuously fail to mention the results.
Instead they go on about the lung resection.
Which they performed because of "structural alterations".
What are structural alterations?
It's what doctors say when they avoid using the word
that it almost inevitably describes.
Who is this man?
Just a little.
One doesn't want to overdo it.
One doesn't want to look ill, either.
A sick...
king is no good to anyone.
There must be no weakness.
No vulnerability.
Oh, thank you.
Evening Chronicle! Evening Chronicle!
-What's that? -An armchair, sir.
-I just thought, a man of his age... -This one never sits. Get rid of it.
Mr. Churchill, Your Majesty.
Your Majesty.
The people have spoken.
Your party has won the election,
and as... as their Sovereign,
I invite you to form a government in my name.
An honor I gratefully accept.
My dear Winston. Congratulations.
Would it be terribly unconstitutional of me to say how happy I am?
I've missed our weekly chats.
Your predecessor is a fine parliamentarian.
A good man.
But, well, as company, as a companion...
An empty taxi pulled up at the House of Commons, and Mr. Attlee got out.
Quite.
Now you may congratulate me in return.
What for?
My rapid recovery.
-Oh. -Yes.
I seem to have bounced back a lot quicker than people expected.
Yes.
Not sure I ever imagined what breathing through one lung would feel like.
Turns out there's barely any difference.
Good. Good.
Though... probably wise to let the Princess Elizabeth
undertake the Commonwealth tour? Hm?
What say you?
-Is she up to it? -Yes, I'd say so.
Besides... we have to start breaking her in gently, don't we?
Do we?
Keep one eye on the future.
The distant future.
- Welcome back, sir. - What's this?
-It's the teleprinter. -Let's have it upstairs.
-Everything as it was before, sir? -Yes!
Everything exactly as it was before.
Ladies. Ladies. Now-- Who's this?
-Oh, Miss Venetia Scott, sir. -A new addition.
-A good one, I'd say. -Thank you, sir.
I had hoped I'd seen the back of this place.
Could you give us a moment, please, Jock?
Thank you.
How was the king?
He talked a great deal about his recovery. Lots of mentions of "bouncing back".
Which always makes one fear the worst.
Not to mention the make-up.
He was wearing rouge.
Poor man.
It's cancer.
What?
-Who knows? -No one.
Least of all him.
-Sir? Lunch. -Let's have it in here.
See what they've been serving for the past five years.
-So he's dying? -We're all dying.
That's what defines the condition of living.
Will he die tomorrow? No.
What about the day after tomorrow? And the day after that?
The country needs to be led by someone strong.
-Well, I'm strong! -You are also tired, Winston.
We both are.
A situation like that would require enormous energy.
And I won't lie to you.
I have considered resigning for Anthony's sake.
For your sake.
But then I realized a situation like that would also require statesmanship.
The party needs me. The country needs me.
She needs me.
-Who? -Her!
Oh, her.
This is Clarence House dining room to Clarence House kitchen.
Dining room to kitchen.
- Dining room to kitchen! - Yes. Dining room to kitchen!
Oh, bugger it!
Right, check the circuits and up the amperage of the fuse wire.
Right, I'm off.
-Breakfast with your mother? -And Margaret.
Imagine. I'm checking curtain fabrics in an hour.
Yes.
Let's pick the curtains.
-Where to, ma'am? -Buckingham Palace, please.
Buckingham Palace.
I see.
The queen has asked to see you.
Yes, we look forward to seeing the doctor then.
-Thank you. Goodbye. -Drawing room!
-Now? -Yes.
We do both so love living at Clarence House
and he has all sorts of ideas about how to modernize it.
He really is rather ingenious like that, actually.
-Now, Peter. -Your Majesty. Your Royal Highnesses.
I have to make a decision about Christmas.
Tell me, do you think the King will be well enough to go to Sandringham?
I do. As a matter of fact, I think it would do him good.
-So it's decided. -Will you be joining us, too?
Me?
Course not. Peter will be spending Christmas at home with his family.
I was only thinking of papa.
Given the choice, you know he'd never let him out of his sight.
Well, that's true.
-He's quite devoted to you. -Then let me discuss it with Rosemary.
Oh, no. No, it's out of the question.
Why, mummy? Let Peter discuss it.
-Well, he did offer. -Oh, very well.
But, as a wife, I know what my answer would be.
I'd want my husband at home at Christmas with his children.
Excuse me.
I saw that.
What? No, I haven't finished.
That look between the two of you.
-Oh, Margaret! -You must tell no one.
The papers all think I'm for Johnny Dalkeith or Billy Wallace.
-Mummy and Papa, too, by the way. -They're just boys. Whereas Peter is...
No, I quite see the attraction of Peter.
But he's married.
Doctor Weir, Your Majesty.
You told me that, after the operation,
I might expect some... soreness,
some difficulty breathing.
But you didn't tell me about this.
-The coughing has returned? -Yes.
-How often? -All the time.
At the time of the operation, as you know, structural alterations were discovered.
Of course. The blockage in the lung.
It's time we gave that blockage a name, sir.
It was a tumor.
A malignant tumor.
I see.
-But... we removed it? -We did.
So what is this?
We removed the left lung, sir. But the right...
has fewer, but still significant, blockages.
So, what's next?
Next?
I argued that His Majesty should be told at the time.
A patient has a right to know the full picture.
But I was overruled. The theory was that, if His Majesty felt he'd been cured,
he could throw himself into his work without undue stress and, and, and worry.
I have two questions.
Who knows the full picture?
Apart from the surgeons?
Perhaps the Prime Minister, sir.
Of course.
But not the queen?
-Nor anyone else in my family? -No, sir.
And the second question?
It's impossible to say, sir.
My understanding is the surgeons did everything they could.
And?
It could be years.
More likely months.
Thank you.
Merry Christmas.
Come on.
- Oh, look. - Oh...
Charming. Quite charming.
Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you.
Very good. Charles, come on.
-Alright. -No, Mummy.
Ma'am, His Majesty has requested you attend him in his study.
Urgently requested, ma'am.
Alright.
Will you take them?
I'll be back soon.
Off we go then!
In case you're wondering, I haven't anything specific to say.
Just wanted to spend time with you.
If there's anything you wanted to ask me, just fire away.
Are they a nuisance?
Oh, the boxes.
Not if you keep on top of them.
-Even at Christmas. -Even at Christmas.
Well, what's inside?
Everything they want me to know, they stick on top.
Everything they'd rather I didn't know,
Cabinet meetings, Foreign Office briefings,
they tuck away at the bottom.
Which is why... the first thing I do when no one is looking, is this.
Will you take that? Thank you.
Yeah.
Don't you get sick of it all?
I do.
And lonely?
Sometimes.
Which is why it's so important to have the right person by your side.
I've been very lucky in that regard with your mother.
How's your fellow?
-Philip? -Mm.
Well, he...
Well, I'm afraid he's become something of a snagaholic.
A what?
Well, you know we're renovating Clarence House to make it our permanent home?
Mm, yes.
Well, ever since he started supervising the work,
he can't look at anything without seeing its faults.
"That switch is an inch too high. And that door handle's wrong."
"Well, don't be silly," I say. "A handle's a handle."
I should make more of an effort with him.
Take him shooting.
-Would he like that? -Yes, I think he'd love it.
And then when your health's improved, we'll return to Malta
and he'll have his navy again, and all will be well.
Of course.
But, in the meantime... I'm still not yet well enough to travel.
Not long distances, anyway.
Which brings me to the forthcoming Commonwealth tour.
I was wondering if you would consider stepping into my shoes, so to speak.
My health is improving but I'm still not yet well enough.
-Well, if you think we're up to it. -You'll be fine.
-Where is it? -Well...
Ceylon. Australia.
Then on to New Zealand. Bermuda.
And there's talk of starting in Kenya.
Very good!
Right, we'll be gone months.
Yes. But it would mean so much to papa that we do it.
-What am I supposed to do all that time? -Don't worry, we'll put you to work.
My work is as a naval officer,
not grinning like a demented ape while you cut ribbons!
-What about the children? -The children will be fine.
Oh! Without their parents for months on end?
-Daddy, can you come and play? -I won't be a moment, darling.
If you go and play with grandpapa, I'll be right over. Good boy.
Come on, darling, Daddy's busy. Come and start again.
- Daddy's coming. - They won't know.
-They're too young to notice. -Come on. Be quiet.
It would so help in papa's recovery.
Charles, come back here.
- Daddy, can you play now? - Charles.
Yes.
Thank you.
- What are we playing? - Granny's footsteps.
Come on then. Let's go. And then it's bedtime.
Ready, steady...
Sir?
-What's the weather like today? -Rather misty at the moment, sir.
-Morning! -Bugger off!
Yes, I'm not sure that's the correct address for the King of England.
-It's a beautiful morning for duck. -What?
I thought Wolferton Splash.
Christ.
Reed warbler, see?
Oh, Teal. Below the withy there.
When I woke up this morning, I thought we'd go to Babingley Flat or Eleven Acres.
But, in the end, there's nowhere better than the Splash
with a bagful of cartridges to lift the spirits.
His Majesty's back to himself again.
Oh, he is, thank you. Like a young man again.
We'll be all right. My son-in-law's a naval man.
We will. If I can handle a frigate.
You understand, the titles, the... dukedom.
-They're not the job. -Sir?
She is the job.
She is the essence of your duty.
Loving her.
Protecting her.
Of course, you'll miss your career.
But doing this for her, doing this for me...
there may be no greater act of patriotism.
Or love.
I understand, sir.
Do you, boy?
Do you really?
I think so.
Come.
Let's go shoot some duck, shall we?
Three cheers for His Majesty!
- Hip, hip! - Hooray!
You're too kind. Thank you.
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