to fit in, to be ordinary.

So I thought moving to a new town

would be my chance, my chance to be normal.

But I was forgetting one little thing.

I'm a vampire.

-I'm we should have taken a left back there.

-Can you stop breathing in my face?

You can't have brushed your teeth for weeks.

Am I the only one gagging here?

I can't believe we have to speak this stupid language.

-We've got to keep a low profile.

-And why did we have to move anyway?

-Please be quiet, Mistress Ingrid.

I'm trying to read the map.

-Don't tell me to be quiet, insect biter.

-All right.

That is it.

-Don't you touch me, you fungus.

-Brat.

-Creep.

RENFIELD: Witch.

INGRID: Pus face.

VLAD: Turn right.

RENFIELD: Can't do it.

Crescent freak.

Fart breath.

INGRID: Spider licker.

-Scab picker.

-Snot eater.

COUNT DRACULA: (ANGRILY) Renfield!

What exactly is going on?

-Sorry for disturbing you, Master.

-Silence!

-Ingrid wants Renfield to turn the hearse

around and go back to Transylvania.

-Oh, you do, do we now?

And what about the angry torch-wielding

Tryansylvanian peasant mob, hm?

Would you like to go back to them, too?

[angry yelling]

-Yeah, well, better going back to face

them than living in this dump.

I mean, look at it.

It's so normal.

-Normal.

That's just what I was thinking.

ELIZABETH: Robin!

Robin!

Robin!

-Face it, mum.

You did a good job with me and Paul.

-And me.

-Three out of four ain't bad.

-It's just unfortunate you also had a weirdo goth child.

-Ian, this isn't funny.

He hasn't come out of his room all morning.

-PAUL: And that's a bad thing?

-If he doesn't come out, no one's going camping.

-Hey, nut job!

Open up!

-Ah!

RENFIELD: Can I proceed now, Master?

-Yes, yes.

-Good.

It smells like a zombie's armpit in here.

I thought so.

It's Vlad's stupid stuffed dog.

-Hey, he's not a dog.

He's a wolf.

And he doesn't smell.

-Well, actually, Master Vlad, I do smell a bit.

My sawdust seems to have got a little damp in transit.

COUNT DRACULA: Renfield, drive.

What is that?

-Home sweet home.

Maybe Dad should go on a diet.

COUNT DRACULA: I heard that.

Well, here we are at last.

Hmm.

It's not exactly what I was expecting.

I mean, where are the cobwebs?

The damp?

The rotting corpses?

-Look, Dad, you just said find a castle.

It was the best I could find on the internet at short notice.

COUNT DRACULA: Well, I suppose I might feel

better when I've had someone to eat.

-All right.

I'll get my things.

Bagsie the tower room.

INGRID: Uhh, I don't think so.

I'm the eldest.

I'm having that one.

-But I called it.

-When?

VLAD: In the hearse.

-Right.

Well, I called it before you were born.

So kiss my cape.

COUNT DRACULA: Please, this is very simple.

Vladimir will have the room.

-Brilliant.

Oh, Ingrid, I do believe you were about to chew on that.

-This is because he's your favorite, isn't it?

-Yes, that's right.

INGRID: I hate you more than garlic.

COUNT DRACULA: She is so much like her mother.

Ugh.

In the attic.

RENFIELD: Yes, Master.

-Behind some boxes.

RENFIELD: Yes, Master.

COUNT DRACULA: Under a sheet.

-Thanks, dad.

-Oh, Vladimir.

There's no need to thank me.

You are the son and heir of the Dracula family.

So you're right, you should have the best room.

-Well, actually, I only wanted the tower room

because I thought I might get a TV,

and the reception is better up there.

-Arrgh!

[low rumbling noise] -Time to meet the neighbors.

-Not juicy enough, go away.

-A TV?

A TV?

If you want to see moving pictures,

Vladimir, run around the portrait gallery.

Does he think he's living in the 19th century?

ZOLTAN: Of course not, Master Vladimir,

the Count thinks he's living in the 17th century.

He's a few hundred years behind everyone else.

-I hate being a vampire.

It really sucks.

-Hmm, isn't that rather the point?

-I just hoped this move will be a new start for us,

you know, a chance to be a bit less--

-Vampiric?

-Exactly.

Come on.

Take a look at this.

See?

Semi-detached houses, streetlights, a newsagent,

a golf course, it's all so normal.

Right.

New life, new neighborhood.

Time to check 'em both out.

ZOLTAN: But Vladimir, your father

has forbidden us from leaving the castle.

We need to keep a low profile.

-Zoltan, I'm a preteen vampire.

That means I've got the reflexes of a night hunter combined

with the incredible ability to sneak

up behind my parents' back.

[sighing]

-Mmm.

Ingrid.

How's the grand sulk going?

-I've decided I'm going to go live with mum.

-Ingrid.

Your mother's dead.

-You're dead.

We're all dead.

-Still can't go and live with her.

-You're just mad because she left you for a werewolf.

-She did not leave me for a werewolf.

We mutually agreed to separate.

-After she met a werewolf.

-Vladimir keeps the room.

It's his birthright.

-And what's my birthright?

-I don't know.

Cleaning my capes?

Housework?

Something like that.

I haven't really given it much thought.

-I hope you get some really painful

splinters from your coffin.

-Ah!

-Renfield.

My stomach tells me it's lunch time.

Time to sample a local peasant.

-Now, Master, promise you won't be angry.

-No, I like being angry.

-Promise you won't hurt me.

-Again, not a commitment I feel I can make.

-We, um, we may have a food problem.

-What sort of problem?

RENFIELD: Sort of, we don't have any problem.

-(ANGRILY) What do you mean?

-I thought you wanted to keep a low profile

so I turned a peasant away.

COUNT DRACULA: Arrgh!

RENFIELD: And what with the driving and map reading

and the cobweb hanging, I didn't have time

to stock up with any fresh blood.

-Two weeks from Transylvania and all I've had to eat

is some black pudding in a motorway services.

It's not good enough.

I need a juicy peasant or at least a steak!

-Steak?

-Hmm.

Extremely rare.

RENFIELD: Don't worry, Master.

I'll think of something.

-Going somewhere?

-Yeah, just popping out.

COUNT DRACULA: Ow, ow ow, ow!

You're not going anywhere, young vampire.

Go to your room.

-But Dad.

-Ooh.

Ah!

-You know which room is yours, don't you?

It's the one that should be mine.

RENFIELD: I'm coming, Master!

-I hate sunlight.

-(SINGING) We're all going on a camping holiday.

Just some tent pegs and a rope or two.

-Dad, you're making strange noises again.

-It's called singing, Robin, people

do it when they're in a good mood.

Oh, sorry, good mood, I hope I'm not confusing you

with my complicated technical jargon.

-Ha-ha.

Small drama inside, we're out of Kendal mint cake.

-What?

We can't have a Branagh family camping

expedition without Kendal mint cake.

This is a disaster.

Elizabeth!

-I wish they'd do

-I'm disappointed in you, son.

I mean, where's this bad attitude coming from?

The cheeriness, the- the optimism.

Ugh, love of the outdoors.

-Dad.

COUNT DRACULA: And the clothes you wear-- why?

Why the bright colors?

Make my eyes hurt.

-It's what kids wear.

-Well, not my kids.

Vladi, come stand here.

This is what we are, son, we're vampires.

What are we?

-Vampires.

-There's no escaping that.

You know, in a few years you'll come into your full powers

and your reflection, like mine, will disappear.

Now, I am going to sort out the food situation.

-Can't we have something normal, like a hamburger?

-Oh.

A person from Hamburg.

-No!

-Vampires.

You can't escape it.

It's your destiny.

Hehe.

[door closing]

-Oh, great.

-Ah!

Cool.