Our third month at Château St Pierre.
Squadron Leader Rex still keeping the pilots on their toes with formation flying.
All Spitfires operational, although there have been some problems with propellers.
The pilots have settled into the routine of this phoney war.
Even if there is no action, the food is superb and there's always plenty of high spirits.
The French are, for the most part, very hospitable and friendly,
although there have been several complaints about dangerous flying.
We have had our first casualty.
An unfortunate accident and a sad day for Hornet Squadron.
The Luftwaffe are obviously feeling bored as well.
At least this war has a sense of humour.
The battle must start soon.
I thought we weren't supposed to play aerobatics.
That's OK when the CO's leading the flight.
Really flashy, isn't he?
You'll be like that when you grow up, Coxy.
"Come on, you lot, settle down."
"Right."
What's that?
It's not one of ours.
How did he ever pass the exam? I mean, any exam.
We have to do this, chaps. It's a refresher in case we meet the enemy.
Try again. Sticky?
It's not French, is it?
Don't mess about. It's a Messerschmitt 1 1 0.
Any advances?
Junkers 88?
COX: "Told you - 1 1 0."
Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Look at the twin tail fins.
It's got two Daimler-Benz engines and they're as big as a Merlin, so it ain't slow.
It might even win the war for them if they've got enough of them.
Now, any offers?
Nasty brute, isn't he?
Try it this way. It looks different, right?
It's a Dornier reconnaissance bomber, the ''Flying Pencil''.
Four-man crew, five machine guns.
Oh, and at least a ton of bombs.
"Tighten up, Red Three."
As you wish, Red Leader.
RED LEADER: "I can't stand people dawdling." "Closer, closer!"
RED THREE: "Closing in, Red Leader."
You're still four yards out of position, Red Three.
- I didn't think so. "-This is Red Leader,"
"and, in my opinion," "you are four yards out of position."
"Are you receiving me, Red Three?"
Unidentified aircraft, nine o'clock below. Maybe a Heinkel.
Probably a French Morane.
"But we'll take a look."
It's a bloody Heinkel! This could be our lucky day.
"Check your safety catches."
We'll get the sod before he gets home.
Come on, Hornets. Tally-ho! Tally-ho!
(Machine-gun fire)
"- Fire, Red Three." "- I want to get closer, Red Leader."
Red Leader. Regroup, regroup.
Well done, chaps. I think the drinks are on me.
"Let's wake 'em up at home."
(Boisterous singing)
♪ We cannot shoot, we cannot fight, nor march like infantry
♪ But when it comes to big parades
♪ We shout with all our might
♪ To anyone that asks us
♪ ''Of course, Jack, we're all right''
(Singing)
♪ ''Of course, Jack, we're all right''
Have a look at this, will you?
All righty. What do you think of that, eh?
(Dog barks)
Gentlemen...
Our first war trophy.
I think it'll look rather good over the mess bar.
What about a swastika?
Take it easy.
Fritz, you speak English?
Parlez anglais?
Well...
..I'm sorry about your colleagues.
But no more war for you, my old friend, eh?
You're well out of it, anyway, Fritz.
They'll take good care of you. The French are good people.
- Any of you lot speak deutsch? - Über Alles? Marlene Dietrich!
"We don't really need that," "Flying officer Cattermole."
He seems a decent enough chap.
So...
Good to see you.
You're an honour to the Luftwaffe.
Well, good luck.
- Get away, you bastard! (Dog whimpers)
Waaaay!
Come on, Flip, get it away!
"Get him, Sticky!"
Line out! Line out!
Come on, B-Flight. Get your finger out.
To the back, sir! Come on!
"Yes! Come on!"
Yes?
Not my favourite poison.
Weddings, birthdays.
And apparently, shooting down the Boche.
Will this be the standard celebration, do you think?
- Why not? - I was just wondering.
The Luftwaffe have about 1 ,500 bombers.
At this rate, total victory's going to place an enormous strain on the kidneys.
They're all young and fit, you know.
I was actually thinking about myself!
- Argh! "- Come on, get him, get him!"
You're shirking, Moggy!
Bugger off!
Cheeky sod!
For goodness sake!
Bugger you, Moggy!
"Not at me! Come on!"
"Not at me! At him!"
"Come on! Over there! Watch!"
I don't really care for this, Uncle.
"Get some more!"
"Come on, Cox!"
Voltaire. They shouldn't throw Voltaire.
- You are so beautiful. - Hmm...
I'm supposed to say that to "you."
But I'm not and you are.
You're so young and innocent.
- Perhaps you are perfect. - (Laughs)
I say, steady on, old girl!
Old girl? Is that the best you can say?
It's a term of affection.
For what? A horse?
Don't you like horses?
- No, idiot! - Ow!
Laisse-moi!
You're just a bad loser!
And you English.
Remember Jeanne d'Arc? She was born near here and you've killed her.
Not me, personally.
Well, it was you bloody English.
That was the Army. Not Fighter Command, old girl.
I suppose that's what you'd call a first-class cock-up?
I wouldn't call it that, darling.
I see what you mean.
Come on, Fitz. It's not the end of the world, you know.
Isn't it?
Of course not.
It just takes practice.
Are you sure?
Of course. Well, it's a bit like riding a bike.
All of a sudden, one day, it just comes naturally.
Really?
Really.
Jesus, that's awful!
It took me four years to learn to ride a bike.
You couldn't have been trying.
Have you got any lemons?
What for?
I just read it somewhere that...
lemons are supposed to put... lead in your pencil.
Lemons?
Could have been melons.
Poor Fitz. You'll have to wait till the summer.
Just my bloody luck!
We haven't got time, my sweet.
Seen this?
Bloody hell! Who'd do that?
Maybe the French don't like us. Perfidious Albion, all that stuff.
Is it for me or for Mary?
"God knows! I wouldn't worry about it."
Maybe they don't like our uniforms.
Did you have a good time?
Well, you know, the usual. How about you?
Smashing!
- Really? - She certainly knows her onions!
- What do you mean? - Well, you know, everything.
Oh, yes. You said she knows a lot about biology.
She certainly does.
See that?
What?
Should be hundreds of bullet holes. Most of the shots missed.
So what? We shot it down, didn't we?
It was a Mickey Mouse kill.
Six against one. He had an engine on the blink.
"It was like rolling a drunk in the street."
Our guns are harmonised for the wrong distance.
Oh, yeah? Well, they seem all right to me.
Our bullets converge at 400 yards. Any closer and you're overshooting.
Yes, that happens to be from Fighter Command's manual.
BOTH: The Doubting Spread.
To compensate for pilot error.
All that means is that the average RAF fighter pilot is a lousy shot.
Oh, come on, Chris!
Anyway, "you" got close enough.
That's because I harmonised my guns at 250 yards.
You did what?
And if I were you, I'd do the same thing.
Next time, it may be one-on-one instead of six-on-one.
Watch out for him! Grab his elbow!
Flip! What are you doing?
Get him down!
Get off, you grammar school oik!
"Go, Reilly!"
That dog's a Jerry!
"Reilly! Pass!"
"Reilly!"
"Reilly, behind you!"
(Players shout to each other) "- Where are you going?"
Moggy!
"I think you'll enjoy this, sir."
Henri keeps a very fair table.
Country cuisine rather than metropolitan fare.
Ah, yes.
Yes, old Henri does a very decent Scotch smoked salmon.
How does he get that, I wonder?
People are always going to and fro to London, aren't they?
Hmm.
The boeuf en croûte is really quite excellent.
Your Heinkel went down well with HQ.
- I'm glad, sir. "- I'm not divulging a secret."
We've put you up for a DFC. What do you say about that?
An honour for the whole squadron, sir.
We can't give one to all of them, so we'll give one to you.
I'm deeply honoured.
- Always nice for the family, if nothing else. - Quite, sir.
"Come in."
Am I intruding, young man?
Not at all. My pleasure.
Can I offer you a drink?
That's not a bad idea.
I have to have a few words with you.
Yes, I've been waiting for it.
"Ah."
Far be it from me to curb a chap's style...
- Everybody else tries, Uncle. "- Do they?"
Hardly surprising, eh?
It's not usual for a junior officer to criticise Fighter Command's tactics.
Even when they're wrong? I've fought them before...
"But we're not in Spain."
May I point out that you were on the losing side?
"No, thank you."
I think that some of the chaps are a bit bored by your experiences in Spain.
Anything else?
"For some reason, you don't admire..."
or even like the CO.
"Most of us know when we're well-off."
-Yeah, sure, the food's great. "- Yes, it bloody is. And the wine."
Gramophone records, latest magazines, English beer.
"Who pays for all that?"
Squadron Leader Rex.
So if I don't behave nicely, Rex is gonna cancel The Tatler?
You're very difficult, aren't you, Hart?
Perhaps I should mention good manners.
Very British.
The RAF happens to be British. We do things in our own way.
"Such as..."
squash courts are for officers only.
Oh, Christ!
"We have a system and, by and large, it works."
Yes, it's called snobbery.
"One of the less attractive features of the service."
You may think so, but your treatment ofTodd resulted in embarrassment and humiliation.
Are you kidding? That wasn't my fault.
Todd thinks it was. He asked to be transferred from your flight.
You should've known that, anyway.
"Your family background, et cetera?"
What were you trying to prove?
Democracy, maybe?
Ah, that.
Well, it's all right in its place.
Yeah.
It's a question of fitting in, old boy.
Yeah.
- You've excelled yourself, Henri. - My pleasure, my lord.
So many of my customers do not appreciate the great vintages.
Mmm.
First class.
Merci.
- Bon appetit, my lord. Monsieur. - Bonne chance, Henri.
I think you're going to enjoy this, sir.
Why not, eh?
What's all this business of ''my lord''?
I think it amuses him.
You haven't encouraged this notion, have you?
They expect it of me.
How's our American? Settling in?
I'm afraid not.
He doesn't like our tactics and wants to change the harmonisation on our guns.
We're going to do that, anyway.
At 400 yards, you can't hit anything at that range.
That's the experience of other squadrons.
How interesting, sir.
- Is he a good pilot? "- That depends."
Frankly, what gets on my nerves is his rotten formation flying.
"It's quite deliberate."
I really don't see that I can stand for that. I'll have to chop him.
Like hell!
"We need him."
Well, I certainly don't need him, sir.
The powers above.
We need America's help to fight this war... or so I'm told.
"Why that should be, I've no idea.They weren't" "much use last time, till it was too late."
We need publicity.
Or perhaps propaganda in the wonderful USA.
Hart stays. Sorry.
- Politics? "- Of course."
I want to see Hart in the thick of things.
Make sure he shoots down a Jerry as soon as possible.
- We've only seen one, sir. - Look for another one.
Is that an order, sir?
Not an order, Rex, but it's bloody good advice.
"I thought I'd see you at the cottage." "Been here long?"
Not really.
"- Nothing wrong, is there?" "- No, no. Mary was a bit tired, that's all."
Bloody cold, isn't it?
Nicole's never tired.
Really? Good for her.
Take any precautions, Fitz?
For what?
Oh, you know.
Oh, precautions! Yeah, I see what you mean.
"Well, do you?"
Um...
Sort of. How about you?
We try.
Nicole wants a baby.
- Christ! Why? "- Why not?"
Perfectly natural thing for a girl - well, a woman.
Doesn't she want to be married first?
Ah.
- Didn't she say anything about that? -Yes, I suppose she did.
- Flash? "- Hm?"
Didn't you ask?
There's nothing wrong with marriage.
Oh, no. I think it's...
It's just... Old wedding bells, eh?
Yes.
Well, congratulations, Flash.
I hope you'll be very happy.
Piece of cake.
(Footsteps outside)
"Hello."
Not reading, young Fitz?
Well, no, not really.
They're all in French.
One of the problems of living in France!
- Been out? -Yes.
You know about everything, don't you, Skull?
Just a rumour, actually.
Well, do you know anything about lemons?
"Melons?"
You're not thinking of starting a greengrocer's?
No. Oh, Christ, no.
Are you married?
Not at all.
Good God!
Why?
It's nothing.
You see, it's this...
friend of mine.
"He's got a bit of a..."
..you know.
Problem?
Yes.
He's got a girlfriend...
..this friend of mine, you see.
"And he can't seem to..."
He can't seem to...
warm up his engine.
Well, I'm sure your friend can get a book about it.
"You could do something for your friend."
You're going on leave.
"Seven days, lucky chap."
Drop in at Foyles.
"It's a bookshop."
If you want my advice,
I should tell your friend not to worry about it.
- Well, that's what I told him. -Then you've solved the problem.
You see?
I knew you'd know about everything.
My pleasure.
Thank you, Skull.
Seven days!
Right.
Lucky sods!
- Say hello to Piccadilly. - Don't get lost, Moggy.
-They've gone. - Oh, no!
You rotten sod!
- Why go home? Stay with your girl. - I've got to go and see my parents.
Father's been ill. You know what parents are like. See you!
The idea is simple.
You'll be taken by lorry to the Vosges region here.
You'll be dropped separately in various remote spots.
You'll come back here under your own steam.
Four days. That should do it.
No map, no compass and 1 00 francs in your pocket. Any questions?
"Thank you for joining us," "Flying Officer Cattermole."
"I don't want any criminal behaviour. None at all."
There may be companies of French mounted troops out looking for you - and their dogs.
Somewhat ill-mannered, I believe.
Remember, you are officers in the Royal Air Force.
So don't stand any nonsense from them.
"- I don't think you'll have time for winter sports." "- Why not, sir?"
-This is a serious exercise. - I'm a serious skier.
Any questions?
Are you going to lead us, sir?
I know how to survive. I'm going to Paris.
But you'll have Flight Lieutenant Kellaway and Flying Officer Skelton here to hold the fort.
Right.
Good luck, chaps.
If you could select your stuff.
We'll get double pneumonia!
You're young, fit chaps. Nonsense!
Should've listened to my mother. She's always knitting things.
Is that how she made you?
(Gunshot)
(Rifle clicks)
Un Boche. Va chercher les gendarmes. Dis-les il y a un Boche à la ferme.
CATTERMOLE: "Camarade!"
English!
Royal Air Force!
(Gunshot)
(Scratch of record finishing)
Don't take it off. I'm tired of the Mills Brothers, or whatever they're called.
The other side, old man.
(Car approaches)
♪ Baroque classical music
"- I thought it was too quiet." "- What?"
KELLAWAY: "It would have to be Moggy." "SKELTON: Accident prone."
KELLAWAY: "Not him." "All that happens to him is deliberate."
SKELTON: "I wonder what he's been up to?"
I don't know, robbed a bank?
"Oh, well, I suppose I'd better go and see" "what he's done and pay for the damage."
MARY: "I'm very touched by Fitz's concern."
"- You must know that he cares for you." "- Yes, of course."
He's very conscientious, isn't he?
In some ways, older than his years. In some ways, younger.
But I'm sure you know that.
- He does get awfully anxious at times. - Really?
Just little things.
- I haven't offered you a drink. - I should've brought something.
Of course not, I've got lashings of wine. Do you like white?
I'm in your hands, Mrs Blandin.
Oh, please, Mary.
Then you must call me Lance.
- I thought everyone called you Moggy. - Oh, you know about me?
Fitz has talked about you.
"I'm honoured."
That's why I dropped by, really. Just to make sure you were...sort of all right.
He really cares about his parents. I always like that quality. Don't you?
May I?
I wonder what Fitz is up to at this moment.
After entertaining his parents, I've no doubt young Fitz is on the spree.
Does he usually do that?
Oh, after he's written a letter to you, Mary.
"Then painting the town pink," "drinking the bars dry,"
and reminding society that nobody's daughter is safe when a fighter pilot's on the loose.
He's a very dependable chap, young Fitz.
He's a very good dancer.
Is he really?
I suppose you like dancing as well? You've certainly got the figure for it, Mary.
I don't know about that.
Do you like Tommy Dorsey?
Mmm, my favourite.
Funnily enough.
♪ More Than You Know
May I have the honour?
♪ Quickstep
♪ Romantic melody
You're a very good dancer, Moggy.
Well, as they say, it takes two.
(Glass shatters)
Stay here.
(Car speeds away)
(Sobs)
Poor Mary!
- You're not hurt? - No.
Moggy's going to take care of you.
They hate the English.
I mean, some of them.
And here we are, defending them from old Jerry!
- Odd, isn't it? - It "is"odd.
I'm such a terrible crybaby.
No wonder, my sweet. You're soaking wet.
Good wine, as well.
You'll get a chill.
Better take it off.
(Record finishes)
I suppose.
You won't leave me?
Don't go.
- Where the hell have you been? - Catch!
Schnapps? ''Made in Germany.'' Where did you get that?
Mum's the word, old boy. We're secret agents.
Rex thought you were dead. You should have been here three days ago.
-The roads were appalling. - Something to do with the war.
I want to see you lot. Right now.
"- Switzerland?" "-Yes, sir."
"- I sent you on a survival exercise." "- You certainly did."
I may be wildly wrong about this, but isn't Switzerland a neutral country?
So I believe, sir.
And as our Intelligence Officer, Skull, could you confirm this?
It is not a belligerent state.
Never was.
My next question is, how did you get into neutral Switzerland?
He had his US passport and his uncle works at the American Embassy in Bern.
Actually, he's the Ambassador.
Well, that explains everything. And then?
- Well... -Then we...
Flying Officer Miller, perhaps.
Well, it was smashing.
We went to the pictures.
"A superb hotel. I mean, the bar never closed."
And then he bought the Mercedes, second-hand of course,
"and we went to Chamonix for a bit of skiing."
Couldn't get through Gstaad. The pass was closed.
Appalling luck!
Well, Chamonix is pretty good.
And Hart, did you have enough loose change in your pocket to buy the Mercedes?
No, I had to phone my bankers in New York.
How lucky you had sufficient in your current account!
That "was" lucky, sir.
- You deliberately ignored my orders. - You didn't tell us not to go to Switzerland.
Should I be amused by that?
I think not.
- I posed you a problem... - And we solved it.
Don't interrupt!
Hart, you knew what was intended.
The spirit of the exercise was perfectly obvious.
And you dodged it.
In your own way,
you dodged it.
That's all. Off you go.
The trouble with the rich is, they think they can buy their way out of everything.
I suppose. You should know.
I beg your pardon?
Ah, yes. What I meant was,
well, by any normal standards, your family is extremely rich.
"- Is it not?" "- Is it?"
I think people know that.
Everyone knows.
(Taps his pipe out)
I don't want people thinking I'm a soft touch.
- Well, you are. "- Not true."
You pay half of everybody's mess bills.
Because this squadron is something rather special. At least to me.
Agreed. Could I say something?
Difficult to stop you, Skull.
It just seems to me that you're taking it personally.
"They did exhibit considerable initiative." "Don't you think?"
All I say is this.
What does Mr Hart do if he bumps into a flock of Messerschmitt 1 1 0s?
Cable his bloody banker?
Come on, chaps. You're always threatening to buy me a drink.
I think Skull's in the chair.
On my measly 1 1 shillings a day?
(Phone rings)
CO's office.
Good God! Thank you.
No drinks, I'm afraid, sir. It's a scramble.
(Bell rings)
All clear!
Contact!
"Hornet Leader to Hornet aircraft."
"For God's sakes, close up!" "You're like a bunch of Girl Guides on a picnic."
Closer. Closer.
"Enemy bandits, 1 1 o'clock below."
1 1 o'clock below.
(Whine of engines)
Jesus, look out above you!
(Gunfire)
Aaargh!
(Gunfire)
Regroup!
Regroup! Regroup!
You're beginning to bore me, mister.
(Engine fails)
It's quite clear, in my view.
It was a shambles, Uncle.
I wouldn't say that...really.
"Well, I would."
When will they learn?
Formation discipline is the key.
If they don't regroup, we're in a bloody great mess.
We destroyed a Heinkel and a probable.
Hardly a major victory. Our score?
Pip Patterson's in hospital - shock and a fearful bump on the head.
"He'll be out in a day."
Poor old Miller...
Well, they've identified the body.
And Flash... God knows.
Three of them certainly saw him bale out, and confirmed that the parachute opened.
He can't be too far.
I suppose I should address the squadron.
The game's afoot. The struggle is becoming more arduous.
"Now is the time" "to stand shoulder to shoulder."
Let us close ranks and show the Boche what we're made of.
SKELTON: "You're not actually going to say that?"
Why? What's wrong with that?
Oh, I...
Yes, I'm sure that's the right sentiment.
♪ COLE PORTER: Anything Goes
- What are you drinking? - Whisky.
(Thunder)
(Car approaches)
You've missed lunch, I'm afraid. First-class partridge as well.
No complaints about the catering.
''Dinner: soup of the day, pâté of salmon, saddle of lamb...'' Oh, jolly good, ''Jam roly-poly.''
- The French can't do that sort of thing. -Very good, sir.
- Do you shoot, Trevelyan? - Not really, sir.
Plenty of wood pigeon round here, and there's a rumour of deer.
Not my sort of thing, but the CO wants to see everyone involved in country pursuits.
Now, what else?
Oh, Sticky! New boy, Trevelyan.
- Nice to meet you. - Nice to meet you.
"Billiards, squash, ping pong,"
an incredible cellar,
and erm...what?
Oh, a library. Do you read?
It's not really a hobby of mine.
Mah jong, bridge and a spot of backgammon.
I'm sure we can accommodate you. But don't play poker with the American.
- American? - Oh, yes.
An Irishman, a Scotchman and several Englishmen. That's not a joke, incidentally.
"It bloody is, Uncle."
God! I was about to write a letter to your father.
It bloody worked, you know. I never thought it would.
"A loud bang, a kick up the armpits,"
a nasty one in the crotch as well,
"and then there's this miraculous thing" "above your head."
All I wanted was a harp and a celestial choir, and I'd be in the promised land.
Hello. Who's he?
"He doesn't look like an angel."
- Oh, this is... - Where's Air Vice Marshal bloody Rex?
When I was wafting through the heavens, I thought, ''I'm going to kick Rex up his arse.''
He's a disaster, that man!
- Are you drunk? "- Not me."
- Are you sure? - Sober as a squadron leader.
Here.
A bit early for me.
- It's never too early in Hornet Squadron. - Now, come on, old chap!
- Is he a pilot? - Of course he is.
"Has he met the CO yet?"
Are you replacing my old friend Miller?
One of the best, old Miller, and you couldn't say that of the CO.
Have you ever been Tail-End Charlie?
Well, if the CO asks you to be Tail-End Charlie, just shoot him!
That's enough, Flash!
Well, if Rex asks you to be Tail-End Charlie, you get on a bus and stay there for the duration.
Hell of a good stuff, this.
Now, come on, old chap.
Uncle, you're my friend.
- Of course I am. - Are you my friend?
Of course I am.
- Is he my friend? - Of course he is.
This young fella needs to sleep it off.
REX: "Is he wounded?"
Blotto, sir.
Oh, this is Pilot Officer Trevelyan.
Delighted he brought his parachute back, anyway.
GORDON: Bastard.
"- What's he muttering about?" "- No idea, sir. Shell shock."
Have you baled out, Trevelyan?
No, sir.
I'm taking up A-flight in an hour. Perhaps you'll join us?
That'd be great, sir.
A routine patrol, but you can see what we do.
I like a tight formation, no dawdling. You can be Tail-End Charlie, OK?
Absolutely, sir.
Pip, give me a hand.
I thought he was dead.
Good pilots don't die. They're too bloody stupid.
Come on, Flash.
Get his jacket off.
Hello, Pip. I'm going to kill Rex!
Get your clothes off first.
Why don't they learn?
Do you think he needs a doctor?
No, he'll be all right.
He'll have a nasty hangover.
Of course, you saw him shot down.
Yes. Then I got jumped on.
It may happen again.
I hope not.
What did the MO say?
Concussion, sprained neck, shoulder.
"Just rest, he said."
- 1 4 days' leave. - I haven't had a note from him.
No?
You'll be all right once you get back into a Spit.
I was nearly a goner.
Did the doc give you anything?
I couldn't bloody sleep.
Seems to work with Flash.
Cox, put out that bloody cigarette!
Did you know that our new pilot is an Old Etonian?
- How grand. - Rex is delighted.
He likes good manners. Style, that's the thing.
Now, that's style! Crisp and tidy.
Do you recognise them when they take off, Skull?
-They all seem the same to me. - Not true. That's Fanny Barton.
"Careful man. Just enough throttle."
He's read the book.
"That's Cox. Leaves his wheels down" "for a few seconds, just in case."
- You recognise "him,"don't you? - Haven't got a clue.
"That's old Moggy, for God's sake!" "Don't you recognise Moggy?"
Look, look.
"Now, that's style. Retracts his undercarriage" "as soon as he's airborne."
"You see, the wheels spoil the look of the thing."
That's important for Moggy.
- I'm amazed. - What?
- Your keen observation. - It's obvious, surely?
- Look, look. Now, that's our transatlantic cousin. - Really?
KELLAWAY: "No messing around with him!"
"A natural."
A confident young man, our Master Hart.
"Oh, dear! Slow and fussy."
KELLAWAY: "What's he doing?" "SKELTON:The Old Etonian?"
KELLAWAY: "Mm." "SKELTON: Still thinking about Waterloo."
KELLAWAY: "Rex won't like that."
You're quite a psychologist, Uncle.
A philosopher, even.
A sage of the skies.
You do talk a lot of tosh, don't you, old man?