Ноттинг Хилл: Самая печальная история здесь

I'm going to give the last brownie as a prize to the saddest act here. Bern.

əm goʊɪŋ tɪ gɪv ðə læst ˈbraʊni ɛz ə praɪz tɪ ðə ˈsædəst ækt hir. bərn.

Yeah, all right. Well, obviously, it's me, isn't it? I mean, I work in the city in a job I don't understand, and everyone keeps getting promoted above me.

jæ, ɔl raɪt. wɛl, ˈɑbviəsli, ɪts mi, ˈɪzənt ɪt? aɪ min, aɪ wərk ɪn ðə ˈsɪti ɪn ə ʤɑb aɪ doʊnt ˌəndərˈstænd, ənd ˈɛvriˌwən kips ˈgɪtɪŋ prəˈmoʊtəd əˈbəv mi.

I haven't had a girlfriend since, well, since puberty. And, nobody fancies me. And if these cheeks get any chubbier, they never will.

aɪ ˈhævənt hæd ə ˈgərlˌfrɛnd sɪns, wɛl, sɪns ˈpjubərti. ənd, ˈnoʊˌbɑˌdi ˈfænsiz mi. ənd ɪf ðiz ʧiks gɪt ˈɛni chubbier, ðeɪ ˈnɛvər wɪl.

I fancy you.

aɪ ˈfænsi ju.

Really?

ˈrɪli?

Yeah. Or I did before you got so fat.

jæ. ər aɪ dɪd ˌbiˈfɔr ju gɑt soʊ fæt.

You see. And unless I'm much mistaken, your job still pays you rather a lot of money, whilst Honey here earns 20 pence a week flogging her guts out in London's worst record store.

ju si. ənd ənˈlɛs əm məʧ mɪˈsteɪkən, jʊr ʤɑb stɪl peɪz ju ˈrəðər ə lɔt əv ˈməni, waɪlst ˈhəni hir ərnz 20 pɛns ə wik ˈflɑgɪŋ hər gəts aʊt ɪn ˈləndənz wərst ˈrɛkərd stɔr.

Yes! And I haven't got hair. I've got feathers. And I've got funny googly eyes. And I'm attracted to cruel men.

jɛs! ənd aɪ ˈhævənt gɑt hɛr. aɪv gɑt ˈfɛðərz. ənd aɪv gɑt ˈfəni googly aɪz. ənd əm əˈtræktəd tɪ kruəl mɛn.

But on the other hand, her best friend is Anna Scott.

bət ɔn ðə ˈəðər hænd, hər bɛst frɛnd ɪz ˈænə skɑt.

That's true. I can't deny it. I mean, she needs me. What can I say?

ðæts tru. aɪ kænt dɪˈnaɪ ɪt. aɪ min, ʃi nidz mi. wət kən aɪ seɪ?

And most of her limbs work, whereas I'm stuck in this thing day and night in a house full of ramps. And to add insult to serious injury, I've totally given up smoking, my

ənd moʊst əv hər lɪmz wərk, wɛˈræz əm stək ɪn ðɪs θɪŋ deɪ ənd naɪt ɪn ə haʊs fʊl əv ræmps. ənd tɪ æd ˌɪnˈsəlt tɪ ˈsɪriəs ˈɪnʤəri, aɪv ˈtoʊtəli ˈgɪvɪn əp sˈmoʊkɪŋ, maɪ

favorite thing. And, um, well, the truth is, we can't have a baby.

ˈfeɪvərɪt θɪŋ. ənd, əm, wɛl, ðə truθ ɪz, wi kænt hæv ə ˈbeɪbi.

Oh, Belle.

oʊ, bɛl.

C'est la vie. Still, um, we're lucky in lots of ways. But surely that's worth a brownie.

sɛst lɑ vaɪ. stɪl, əm, wɪr ˈləki ɪn lɑts əv weɪz. bət ˈʃʊrli ðæts wərθ ə ˈbraʊni.

Well, I don't know. Look at William. Very unsuccessful professionally.

wɛl, aɪ doʊnt noʊ. lʊk æt ˈwɪljəm. ˈvɛri ˌənsəkˈsɛsfəl prəˈfɛʃənəli.

That's true.

ðæts tru.

Divorced. Used to be handsome, now kind of squidgy round the edges. And absolutely certain never to hear from Anna again once she's heard that his nickname at school was Floppy.

dɪˈvɔrst. juzd tɪ bi ˈhænsəm, naʊ kaɪnd əv squidgy raʊnd ðə ˈɛʤɪz. ənd ˌæbsəˈlutli ˈsərtən ˈnɛvər tɪ hir frəm ˈænə əˈgɛn wəns ʃiz hərd ðət hɪz ˈnɪkˌneɪm æt skul wɑz ˈflɑpi.

You did it. I can't believe it, you did. Thanks very much. Thank you. Well, at least I get the last brownie.

ju dɪd ɪt. aɪ kænt bɪˈliv ɪt, ju dɪd. θæŋks ˈvɛri məʧ. θæŋk ju. wɛl, æt list aɪ gɪt ðə læst ˈbraʊni.

I think so, yes.

aɪ θɪŋk soʊ, jɛs.

Well, wait. What about me?

wɛl, weɪt. wət əˈbaʊt mi?

I'm sorry? You think you deserve the brownie?

əm ˈsɑri? ju θɪŋk ju dɪˈzərv ðə ˈbraʊni?

Well, a shot at it at least, huh?

wɛl, ə ʃɑt æt ɪt æt list, hə?

All right, you'll have to prove it. I mean, this is a very, very good brownie. And I ah, I'm going to fight for it.

ɔl raɪt, jul hæv tɪ pruv ɪt. aɪ min, ðɪs ɪz ə ˈvɛri, ˈvɛri gʊd ˈbraʊni. ənd aɪ ɑ, əm goʊɪŋ tɪ faɪt fər ɪt.

I've been on a diet every day since I was 19, which basically means I've been hungry for a decade. I've had a series of not-nice boyfriends, one of whom hit me.

aɪv bɪn ɔn ə daɪət ˈɛvəri deɪ sɪns aɪ wɑz 19 wɪʧ ˈbeɪsɪkli minz aɪv bɪn ˈhəŋgri fər ə ˈdɛkeɪd. aɪv hæd ə ˈsɪriz əv not-nice ˈbɔɪˌfrɛndz, wən əv hum hɪt mi.

And every time I get my heart broken, the newspapers splash it about as though it's entertainment.

ənd ˈɛvəri taɪm aɪ gɪt maɪ hɑrt ˈbroʊkən, ðə ˈnuzˌpeɪpərz splæʃ ɪt əˈbaʊt ɛz ðoʊ ɪts ˌɛnərˈteɪnmənt.

And it's taken two rather painful operations to get me looking like this.

ənd ɪts ˈteɪkən tu ˈrəðər ˈpeɪnfəl ˌɑpərˈeɪʃənz tɪ gɪt mi ˈlʊkɪŋ laɪk ðɪs.

Really?

ˈrɪli?

And one day not long from now, my looks will go, they will discover I can't act, and I will become some sad, middle-aged woman who looks a bit like someone who was famous for a while.

ənd wən deɪ nɑt lɔŋ frəm naʊ, maɪ lʊks wɪl goʊ, ðeɪ wɪl dɪˈskəvər aɪ kænt ækt, ənd aɪ wɪl bɪˈkəm səm sæd, ˈmɪdəˌleɪgd ˈwʊmən hu lʊks ə bɪt laɪk ˈsəmˌwən hu wɑz ˈfeɪməs fər ə waɪl.

No! Nice try, gorgeous, but you don't fool anyone.

noʊ! nis traɪ, ˈgɔrʤəs, bət ju doʊnt ful ˈɛniˌwən.

Pathetic effort to hog the brownie.

pəˈθɛtɪk ˈɛfərt tɪ hɑg ðə ˈbraʊni.