Original subtitles

Good evening.

Welcome to another edition of Where Are They?

All over the world, there are men and women doing unusual things.

This evening, let's take a look at Reginald Blake,

author and explorer,

last interviewed on this programme several months ago,

before he embarked on one of his more hazardous adventures.

Where is he now?

This is a map of the Sahara.

And somewhere about here,

Reginald Blake is walking.

Intending to be the first man to walk across the Sahara.

Mad? Impetuous?

Perhaps. But also brave;

a pioneer.

Let me tell you something about him, and his adventures...

in Africa,

where he removed a thorn from the paw of a savage lion.

And here, six months later, having recovered from his wounds.

He's on the brink of death in the Andes...

but, still, smiling gamely.

And here he is in the Arctic.

An ice floe had broken away from the main body...

and it was several weeks before they discovered that he was still alive.

Well, that tells us a little about Reginald Blake and his adventures;

adventures which his many successful books have described in moving detail.

But, where is he now?

This man to whom every trackless waste is as familiar as his own back yard?

He's lost.

Lost...?

Charles, how can you sit there looking so happy?

Reggie may be dead!

My dear Fran, old Reggie doesn't die. He only disappears.

D'you know how good that is for business? Look at this:

we've sold 130,000 copies.

I don't know how many we'd have got rid of if I

hadn't had the idea of Reggie clinging to the cliff.

With, of course, a ledge six inches under his feet.

154,000. Not bad.

Just for sitting on a piece of ice with an outboard motor,

two cases of champagne and a fur-lined sleeping bag.

All of which, of course, happened to fall

overboard just as the rescue ship came into sight.

And this, my dear: 172,000.

Well worth the cost of half a dozen rubber sharks.

One of those sharks was real!

Yes, that was a bit unfortunate, I admit. I'm sorry about that.

Also, you make it sound as though the way he wrote those books

had nothing to do with it.

They were good ― very good.

Oh, yes, they were all right, but, er...

I don't know how we'd have done if we hadn't, er,

helped them along a bit.

Now, this, my dear, this: 'I Conquered the Desert'.

With the whole country holding its breath for dear old Reggie,

there's no knowing how many copies we might sell.

He wasn't meant to get lost this time.

No, but you know Reggie; he probably thought it was a bit too easy.

Well, I don't like it.

I much preferred it when he was a nice, quiet, home-loving husband.

What? You mean when he was writing that ridiculous radio series

'Life with the McTavishes'? You can't be serious.

Look at him now ― famous, successful...

- And lost! - Oh, no, no. My dear girl,

I promise you, I promise you, I wouldn't be talking in this way

if I hadn't every confidence that he'd come out of this safe and sound.

Yes?

Yes, when?

What is it?

Ssh.

Er, have you confirmed it?

Reggie?!

Fine. Leave all the details to me.

They've found him alive and well!

Announcing the arrival of British Overseas Airways Flight

951 from Hong Kong,

Bangkok, Delhi, Bahrain, Cairo and Dusseldorf.

Hope you had a pleasant stay.

Watch your step.

Announcing the departure of British Overseas Airways Flight 735

for Rome, Karachi,

Calcutta, Bangkok and Hong Kong.

Where is he?

He knows what he's doing. He's making an entrance.

Reggie!

Thank you, driver.

May all your wives be fruitful.

What's he doing in that outfit?

You know how impressionable he is. It'll soon wear off.

Doesn't he look marvellous!

Hello, my boy. Ha, ha, ha!

- Charles. - How are you?

What do you think of the weather, Mr Blake?

Allah is doing his nut.

Would you care to make a statement, Mr Blake?

Now, then, boys ― one question at a time.

Could you tell us what really happened, Mr Blake?

Of course, of course.

Well, after I'd been walking for six weeks,

by examining the position of the sun on the horizon

and the shadows cast on the sand dunes, I made a simple discovery:

- I was lost. - Did you panic?

How do you spell that?

After several days of hunger and indescribable thirst,

I was discovered by some nomads.

Were they hostile?

Oh, only at first, until they discovered that I could speak their dialect.

They were a practically unknown tribe, called the Kaliphari.

If they were practically unknown, how could you have know their dialect?

Would you care to rephrase that question?

Listen to him; they're buying every word of it.

I wonder what really happened?

Ssh!

Well, after they'd fed and clothed me, I regained my strength,

and then I had a hand-to-hand battle with one of them who took a dislike to me.

Did you kill him?

No, but I gave him a very severe thrashing.

After this, they made me a blood member of the tribe,

and gave me my own camel, and four wives.

- Four wives?! - What were they like, then?

All right, all right, that's enough for now. Mr Blake's tired.

We'll have a press conference in my office later in the week.

Insha'Allah.

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!

Congratulations Reggie. You've done marvellously.

The greatest bit of publicity we've ever thought of.

I'll arrange an interview for you

with 'Life' magazine, and then perhaps a lecture tour, if you'd care for that...

Then, if the book doesn't top the best-sellers list for at least a year,

I'll walk the Sahara myself!

Wanda, this is Mr Blake.

Wanda baby-sat for us.

Ah.

Oh, Mr Blake, I can't tell you how glad I am you're not dead.

What a touching thing to say.

I've read all your books,

and the one about the Eskimo was simply fantabulous.

Thank you. Go home to your tent, child.

Thank you, Wanda.

Thank you, Mrs Blake!

You look... so romantic, Mr Blake.

Now, there are no reporters here. Tell us what actually happened!

We're dying to hear the real story?

The real story? It's all real, every word of it!

You mean, what you told the reporters at the airport was true?

Every single word!

But how? You had the supply trucks and the wireless that I provided...

and what about those hostile Bedouins that I'd arranged for?

Well, they must've had a better offer ― they didn't turn up.

And then this sandstorm started...

Sandstorm?

Yes, it was ghastly.

How can I describe it? I know: imagine Manchester,

but not rain - sand.

And when it finally cleared, I was alone.

No trucks, no wireless; nothing.

Really?

Best thing that ever happened to me! Cleared my mind!

For the first time, I had to use my own resources.

Resources, Charles,

which have been buried because of the life of lies and sham you forced on me!

I forced on you? You agreed to every one of them.

In fact, you insisted.

That's beside the point.

For the very first time in my life, I was just a man against the elements;

not a writer against a deadline.

And this was the cauldron from which emerged the new Reggie Blake

fine; clean; noble...

and humble.

'Humble'? Oh, ho, ho, ho!

Charles, it's all here.

The first chapters of my new book: 'I Conquered Reggie Blake'.

What happened to I Conquered the Desert'?

Say nothing. Read, then talk.

I'll have a look at it tonight.

It's my legacy to the world,

to stir the hearts and minds of all mankind.

You won't sleep a wink.

- Reggie - - Yes?

Those four wives you said they gave you...

- Yes? - Was that true also?

Yes!

Oh.

...in name only.

You know, those women smear themselves all over with camel butter...

revolting! Ah, that reminds me...

For you.

For me?

Yes, for you. Put it on.

Oh, it's... well... Ooh, wait a minute...

One arm there... one arm there...

The women wear it whenever there are strange men present.

You all right in there?

Yes, er...

- Don't want to suffocate her. - Oh, she'll be all right.

Come and have a look at yourself in the mirror.

It's a yashmak.

That's exactly what it looks like.

It gives a woman an air of mystery, don't you think?

I'll tell you what I think later.

Daddy!

My son! A-hah!

Salaam Alaikum, old friend.

Thank you. Salaam Alaikum to you.

I want my daddy!

Here I am, my son.

You're not my daddy!

You're not my daddy!

Ooouw!

What's the matter with him?

He took one look at me and ran away!

He's very smart for his age.

He's ve...?

Oh, there,

Darling, look, it's only Daddy.

What's wrong with him?

It's your beard.

My beard? Give him to me.

There you are, ba―oowooh!

Where are you going?

To shave.

What's that you're singing, Reggie?

It's an old Bedouin love song.

Oh.

What do the words mean?

'I love your long white teeth and shaggy hair'.

Those women must be really dreadful.

The song is to a camel.

Oh.

Did you miss me?

Of course.

I missed you.

I saved all your letters.

Keep them. They'll be valuable someday.

What on earth are you doing?

Going to bed.

On the floor?

I got used to it.

Fran.

Never!

Camel drivers have an old saying...

I am not interested in what the camel drivers say!

What saying?

Annah hibkek inteh yanah bibkee.

Reggie, no!

No, no, no, no, no!

Reggie, stop it!

No! No, no, no, no, no, no...!

Morning, my love.

Sleep well?

No.

How is our little manchild this morning?

Our little manchild won't eat.

Nonsense!

He wants to grow up to big and brave, like his father.

Don't you, Bill?

Ah! It's probably Charles, unable to control his enthusiasm.

I'll get it, master.

Make sure the baby eats.

There you are...

He has spirit. But we will crush it.

Come along.

No!

Oh, dear.

Fran, I'm coming over to tell him what I think of those chapters...

Thank you.

Who... aw...

All around me, I saw the Kaliphari warriors,

their burning eyes looking down at me.

My senses hadn't yet completely returned.

Rough hands dragged me to my feet...

I knew what I had to do.

I passed out again.

Well?

Well, turn it off!

Any more of this noise while I'm working, and I'll―

I'm sorry, darling, but the baby spilled something.

Tie his hands!

It was then that I first noticed the ragged bundles of humanity

as they scurried round the camp.

I wondered who they were as I watched them unload the camels,

and start to prepare the food...

some of them chanting an old song which meant―

'Oh, how glorious it is to work and slave for my master!'

These were the Kaliphari women.

Answer the bell!

I'm going!

Good morning, have you a moment?

Well...

I'm helping in a government survey to determine

whether the British housewife of today

has more, or less, freedom than her mother did.

Oh, you are, are you?

Well, come in!

Does your husband believe in the equality of women?

Why don't we ask him?

Oh, what a splendid idea.

At the age of eight, all female children don the yashmak,

and their labours begin.

They carried heavy water bags all the way to the well...

- Reggie? - Hm?

Do you believe in the equality of women?

Shut the door! Oh, and get me some lunch!

Next question?

Hello, Uncle Charlie!

Hello, my boy. How are you?

All right.

All right, wait for me, wait for me.

Let's get rid of my hat and coat. Now, then, come along.

Let's go and find Mum.

Oh-ho, there she is.

I say, you're in a nice mess, aren't you?

Charles...

Tell me, how is he?

Oh, he's edgy.

Is he? Oh, dear.

Is his stuff really as bad as you said?

Good Heavens, its like the Koran, with Reggie playing the lead.

D'you know what he calls Chapter Three?

I don't dare ask.

'A Woman Is a Sometimes Thing'.

I believe it.

It's certainly not the book I contracted for.

I'll have to be very firm with him, very firm indeed.

Charles, it's going to break his heart.

Hearts don't break under my gentle touch. Leave him to me.

Aah!

- Oh, hello, hello. - Charles!

Excuse me, Fran ― man talk.

Oh, and get us some coffee.

Yes, master.

Come in and tell me how happy I've made you!

Ah, yes, well, as a matter of fact, there are one or two things...

Scotch?

Oh, thank you very much.

Soda?

Er, no, I think I'll have it neat, if I may.

Well, have a little more scotch, then.

Thank you.

- There you are. - How kind of you...

Well, here's to your next best-seller: my book!

Yes, of course ― here's to it.

Mm-hm. Delicious.

Now, let's get down to business.

Ah, I'm glad you've mentioned the word 'business' ― after

all, you're quite right, publishing is a business... isn't it?

So is writing.

- Oh, yes... - And, before you say anything else,

I've decided that I want an increase in royalties.

Oh, you have, have you?

It's about time, isn't it? Well? What d'you think of it - eh?

Now, these first chapters...

Fantastic, eh?

Well, there is a difficulty - an odd one, I admit - but a difficulty, nevertheless.

Now, this book of yours...

Amazing what you can pick up in the desert.

Yes, amazing.

D'you know, I can hit a vulture at fifty paces?

Can you really?

I... think I'll come back another time.

Just a minute ― what's wrong?

Wrong? Nothing.

What were you saying about my book?

Your book...? Oh, yes. Of course, well it's very good, isn't it...?

Mm-hm.

That's exactly it, Reggie; it's too good.

Too good?

Now, don't jump to conclusions.

Remember Shelley? That's an excellent example; Shelley.

His poetry was exquisite, yet in his day ― no sale.

Is this a criticism?

More of a compliment, I would say.

Now, Reggie, as a friend―

Your dual role fascinates me.

First, you're the businessman, and now, the friend.

Well, in both capacities, it's no good!

Are you a nutcase?!

Now, it isn't only my opinion.

Give me the name and address of the other idiot.

Look here, my staff―

Your staff?! Ha, ha!

A band of incompetent, jealous drunks!!

They're not drunks.

Then what's wrong with it?!

Well, if you really want to know, Reggie, it's pompous...

Pomp-?!

- Egocentric... - Egoce―?!

- Lacking in humanity... - Lacking in huu...?!

...and there's nothing to be gained by shouting!

Eeeuh!!

Tell him!

Tell him what?

How humane I am.

Oh, he's very humane.

All right, I'm convinced, Reggie.

Now, you sit down and write the book the public and myself expect from you.

You dare to tell me what to write?!

El khil molawi moah saeed adhuk ayeem ayeev abahoo!

Good Heavens. What's that?

Something the camel drivers always say.

- Do they really? - Always.

How clever. What's it mean?

It means that the dog does not teach his master how to bark!

Now, then, don't go too far.

Too far? I haven't gone far enough! How dare you!!

- Sugar? - Two.

And the same for me, please. Did you say 'How dare I?'

You heard!

Reggie. Charles may be right.

What do you know about writing?

It's strains your mentality to its limits to read

the instructions on a packet of instant rhubarb!

Thank you.

Now then, stop picking on Fran.

I never speak to my wife with anything other than kindness ― do I?!

Obviously.

Well, I tell you, I won't publish the book.

But if or when you decide to honour your contract―

This is my decision: get out!!

It's my pleasure.

And don't come back.

Reggie, let's try and treat this sanely.

I have spoken.

Kilbeh sheikh harram

Oh, no, please, I implore you not to start that again.

You seem to have the horrible misconception that you're the only publisher in London.

Not at all ― just the only ones unfortunate

enough to have you under exclusive contract.

Goodbye.

If that illiterate tries to come back, slam the door in his face!

Excuse me.

Thank you.

The next time.

And what makes you think there'll be a next time?

He needs me.

You're not the only author he's got.

I'm the only one that sells 200,000 copies.

You're also the only one who autographs them all.

Hm?

Reggie, maybe if you read it again...

Read it? I wrote it!

It's humanly possible you may be wrong.

Never!

What does it feel like to be perfect?

Fine.

All right. So Charles doesn't publish your book. What do we live on?

Well, we've got some money in the bank, haven't we?

We had. How d'you think I kept this house going while you were away, bottle-tops?

That settles it ― we go back to the desert.

The desert?!

Yes. You can live in the desert for about three years on twenty-five pounds

we've got that much, I suppose?

Well, what'll we do there?

Nothing.

You have gone insane.

No. I have regained my sanity.

You would bring our son up in the desert?

Make a man of him.

The desert makes men out of women.

Certainly made a man out of Simone...

Simone who?

I told you about her.

Never.

Oh, she was the photographer with the search party.

D'you know, after a week she could kill a goat with her fist.

Oh, she could, could she?

Well, maybe I can't kill a goat with my fist, but-

I have spoken. You are my wife. You'll do as I order.

Order? Reggie Blake, you're a-

Reggie, darling...

can't you see what's happening to you?

You've had this wonderful, uplifting experience,

but you mustn't lose your sense of humour!

Keffar um kinoh leh dohdat.

I won't even ask what that means.

It means, 'A worm is not expected to understand a lion'.

'The worm'?

Nothing personal, of course...

Well, who else is in the room?

Fran, let me try to explain...

Look, I have had a profound emotional experience.

It's changed me, and enabled me to write a great book.

I shall be immortal!

You'll be immortal, all right. An immortal bore!

Oh, it's no good trying to explain. What do you know about

me? What do you know about the real me, the inner me?

What do I-? I know you forwards and backwards.

If anyone should write a book about you, it's me!

You write a book? Ha, ha!

Ooh, the book I could write about you!

'The Real Reggie Blake'... the Reggie Blake that lives in central-heated igloos

and fights rubber sharks!

- You wouldn't dare. - Wouldn't I?

Well, why, why should I worry?

You'd have to look up 'cat' in the dictionary.

Reggie, I'm warning you...

Ha, ha, ha, ha! You write a book! Ha, ha, hah!

That does it.

Kibbledepibbledebibbledeboo!

I beg your pardon?

That's camel driver for you asked for it'.

I'm going to write the book on Reggie Blake.

And I've got a title, too: 'I Was Conquered by a Middle-Aged Monster'!

It's too long for a title. Cut out the Middle-Aged'.

Three hundred and ten...

three hundred and eleven...

three hundred and twelve...

three hundred and thirteen...

three hundred and fourteen...

three hundred and fifteen...

Fran?

Fran?

Fran? Oww! Ooh...!

Oowwah! Ach! Oohee!

Oh! You frightened me.

Hungry?

Hm? Er... no, I thought I heard someone in the fridge.

What're you doing?

Writing.

Well, I can see that. What're you writing?

Your biography.

Whaat?

I said I would.

Now, look, look, look, look. A woman's place is in the kitchen.

I am in the kitchen.

Cooking, not writing.

You don't cook at three o'clock in the morning.

Well, you don't write at three o'clock in the morning.

I do.

Look, I don't mind your writing. You can paint on the ceiling if you like.

Thank you.

But if it disrupts the house―

'Disrupts the house'? The trouble with you is, you're

afraid people are going to see you as you really are.

Nonsense. Look, even if you finished it

which is very unlikely ― who'd publish it?

Charles Lunton and Co.

Whaat?!

Charles has agreed, and I'm having lunch with him tomorrow.

You're making a damn fool of yourself.

Goodnight, darling.

Blasted... oh.

Ooo-ooh!

Oh... Oh! Ooh...

Who are you?

Phoebe.

- Phoebe? - I work here twice a week.

Well, I suppose Mrs Blake engaged you while I was away, eh?

Yes.

Yes. She does peculiar things like that.

Oh, does she?

Now look - Phoebe - I am Mr Blake,

and when I'm here I don't want any noise - no vacuum cleaners, nothing.

How do you expect me to clean the carpet?

Go down on me hands and knees and inhale?

As long as you remember to go outside when you sneeze.

Oh, ha, ha, ha... very funny man...

Huh. Well, if you'll excuse me.

Oh, so it's to be a fight, is it?

Answer the door.

Not on your life.

Why not?

I've turned in my job.

When?

The moment I saw you.

I wouldn't've come 'ere at all, but I thought you was dead.

I know your reputation.

When Mrs Blake comes back, tell 'er I've quit.

Open that door!

Hah! You've opened the door!

And I'm shutting it.

Well?

Good morning.

I alvays say, vhy vaste time'?

Nobody could improve on my offer. So vhy bargain?!

I beg your pardon, have we met?

My name is Felix McGregor. My friends call me 'Sandy'.

Daddy...

A baby! You know, I love babies!

Hello, leetle baby!

Mmm, mwah! Sveet as an apple!

Would you mind putting my son down and telling me what you want?

Baby - go and play. Enjoy yourself vhile you are young, hey?

Babies taste deleecious, no?

I don't know. I've never eaten one.

Who are you?

I just told you - I'm Felix McGregor. You can call me Sandy'.

I'm a film producer, like Brewster.

Who's Brewster?

One of my closest friends; I hate him!

Oh. Well, what do you want?

Vhy should I beat around the bush? Vhat does it gain a man?

It's all over town!

Lunton doesn't like your book.

All over town...?

Yes. I've read some of your books, Mr Blake.

Oh! Do you like them?

Who cares vhat I like? Vhat the public likes, I like!

This one I'll buy ― unread; unseen.

Tventy tousand pounds ― blind!

Mr McGregor, I'm busy.

So am I, Mr Blake, so am I.

I am producing a picture right now that will make Ben Hur look like a trailer.

Theenk about it.

Tventy-thousand... cash!

Ta-ta, baby.

I love babies, I can't...

And, er, give my best to your vife. Tell her I'm dying to read her book, too.

Here, just a minute. How do you know my wife's writing a book?

This morning's paper. Second page.

Ta-ta, Blake!

And don't forget ― tventy thousand, on top of the table,

under the table, in Svitzerland... anyvhere you vant it.

Even legally.

Ta-ta!

'Charles Lunton gave me the news last night that Fran Blake,

wife of intrepid explorer Reginald Blake, is

writing a scorcher of a book about her husband...

which he will put on his spring list!

We are going out.

Sir? Your ticket.

Ticket?

Where's Mr Lunton?

He's over there, sir.

Thank you.

Uh-uh... just a little joke.

I'll help you all I can, my dear.

Charles, I don't know what I'd do without you.

Well, dear, anything you write would be better

than that nonsense Reggie's been turning out.

Oh, I've never seen anything like it in my life!

Black or white... you swine?

Reggie!

Good Heavens! You might've scalded me! What're you doing?

I do beg your pardon. I merely wanted to hit you with the pot!

Reggie! Get out of here!

So this is what you do while I'm away, eh?

Well, we... we were merely discussing Fran's book.

You don't hold my hand when we discuss my books.

Stop making a scene!

Is there anything I can do, sir?

Had you anything in mind?!

- Yes. More coffee. - Yes!

Oh, no, no, no, no more coffee.

Charles was sympathising with me

and, believe me, I need sympathy being married to you!

I should say she does. Control yourself, Reggie.

Remember what Shelley said? 'The eyes see what they bring to the seeing.'

It's funny that every time you stab me in the back you quote Shelley.

You said you were going back to the desert. Why don't you go!

I'm going! But first of all, I should like to perform an old Arab ritual.

What are you talking about?

Oh, ho, ho, ho, he wouldn't dare!

I've never been so humiliated in my life!

You cleverly forget my humiliation.

What humiliation? I didn't make a spectacle of myself.

Then exactly what were you doing?

Charles Lunton is old enough to be my father.

Well, so am I. That didn't stop me.

I wish it'd stopped me.

You were holding Lunton's hand!

Oooh, why do you keep going on about that?

Because you keep on doing it.

You're jealous - of Charles!

What, me? Jealous? Why should I be jealous of a cowardly, old, ineffect-

you'll never see him again!

Charles is our friend!

He was!

Oooh, you're impossible!

Impossible?! I think I'm eminently fair and reasonable

except when it concerns my wife being pawed.

'Pawed'?! Charles Lunton's never pawed a woman in his life.

He has a mental block. He's never even kissed a woman.

I saw you being fondled!

You've got a dirty mind!

So's that old bachelor.

- He does not. - He's a man.

Not all men think like you. Charles is refreshingly different.

All right; he can have you.

Reggie, you are the most―

I will not stand in your way. I'm not going to hang on to an old bone.

Who's an old bone'?

I promise you, I will look after our son.

You'll look after him? He goes with me.

Mummy!

Phoebe!

She isn't here.

What do you mean? Why?

I gave her the bullet.

You didn't...

This is the end. Thanks to you, we're now blacklisted in every agency in the country.

Now I do leave.

Just a minute. Where will you be? So I know where to send your bills.

Waah!

Oh, my baby!

Come on. Come on, now. Up we come.

Come to Mummy.

Quiet, dear. We're all right now.

He's only frightened, he's not really hurt.

Come on...

Well, as I was about to say, I refuse to allow my son to

be brought up without the shining example of his father.

And d'you think I'd allow him to be brought up without the love and care

and protection of his mother?

Ssh...

Well... we can't divide him in half.

No. But I know what we can divide...

What?

And we're going to. The house.

You can live in your half, and I'll live in my half.

We'll each look after our half of the house, and our half of the baby.

That's a splendid idea.

And what each does in his own half is his own business. Agreed?

Agreed!

Agreed.

Right.

Ah! The study's mine.

The large bathroom.

Hah! Large bathroom...

The kitchen.

Well, I'll find some use for it...

Our bedroom.

Damn.

The living room. Hm.

The small bathroom.

Small bathroom...!

Just a minute... I hope you're going to have the

decency to allow me the use of one of your bathrooms?

Why?

'Why'...? Well, we've only got two, and I'm only human.

Oh, really? I thought you were immortal.

Fran...

Well, there are always those public things at the Tube station.

The Tube station?! That- that's a quarter of a mile away!

Run.

Fran!

All right. I'll trade you the small bathroom...

for the study.

The study?! Where will I do my writing?

Where I do mine now - the kitchen.

In the kitchen? I couldn't. It would be too humiliating!

It's your choice.

You think it's very funny, don't you?

No. But I can wait.

All right. Study's yours.

Baby... where's the baby?

Ba-argh! Ooh...

Oh! Ooh...

Tea...

Tea...

where's the― ah, yes, fridge.

Where's the tea?!

Where... ah!

One for the pot...

Oh, no.

Hang on, shan't be a minute!

Oh, no!

Oh!

Bread...

Where's the knife?

Oh ― scissors!

Shaddap!

Hello? Hello?

Hello? Hello? Hello, are you there?!

Hello, are you there?!

Hello? Hello?

You're there, I can hear you stirring!

Hello? Hello!

I want Mummy! I want Mummy!

For the moment, I am your Mummy.

I want Mummy! I want Mummy! I want Mummy!

Front door ― yours!

I want Mummy!

Ah, Phoebe! Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?

My 'usband said it once... then 'e borrowed ten bob off me.

Ha, ha! Come in, come in!

Madam 'phoned and apologised for you.

Oh, yes, yes, yes I made her do that.

Ah, well ― you're here.

Well, now, first of all I want you to feed the baby and get him ready for nursery

school... and then, er, do the laundry, and clean

the place up a bit, and then do the shopping.

Where're you going?

To do madam's bedroom.

Oh, no, I want you to do these things for me first.

Well, don't hold your breath till then.

What's the matter? It's just a few simple jobs.

Look, I only came because madam promised I wouldn't have to lift a finger for you.

But, please! I'm sorry!

I apologise!

I'll pay you double!

I―

You're fired!!

But, Phoebe, please... have pity.

Don't boil the baby's egg too hard.

He's got teeth. He can bite an egg.

And don't forget his porridge.

Oh, God...

All right... Here we are.

Hello. Hello.

Hello! Hello!

Hello!

Hung up. How about that!

There we are.

Here's you egg.

There isn't going to be any trouble, is there, son?

All right, all right!

His coat.

Expectin' rain?

Very funny.

Tell me, Harold...

what is it about women that attracts you most?

I mean, what makes you take a second look at a woman?

Is it her figure, her colouring, or her...

Oh...

Well, with my husband, it's eyes...

Oh! Yeah, well, er...

in my case, it's legs.

Good-lookin' legs.

You've got very nice-lookin' legs, Mrs Blake.

Oh, thank you, Harold, it's very sweet of you to say so!

Well!

I believe you've met Harold, our window cleaner?

Window cleaner?! Have you no shame?!

What're you talking about?

More to the point, what're you talking about?

Legs.

Especially my wife's ― eh, Harold?

Oh, oh, er... Mrs Blake... er... doesn't he know?

The husband is always the last to know.

Harold and I were merely discussing―

Your legs!

Oh, lawd... now, look, Mr Blake...

Mrs Blake, tell him, please!

Wouldn't you rather, Harold?

I have an idea you won't be able to speak for the next few days.

Harold was giving me material for my book.

We were comparing his married life and ours.

We lost!

Yeah ― that's, that's how it was, Mr Blake; you see, I was givin'

er some stuff for er book...

D'you think I didn't know that?

Well, I'll, erm...

finish the windows in the mornin'.

Oh ― me ladders.

Oh ― me bucket.

Oouh!

Oops. Sorry, sir...

Oouh!

Harold...!

Harold. Your sponge.

Thank you... thank you... very much, Mr Blake.

Reggie!

Call him back and apologise at once!

I'll do nothing of the sort.

What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.

And, for the record, I'm the gander.

Hello...

Hell-o...!

Don't you remember me?

Simone?

You do remember.

How could I possibly forget?

Are you going to invite me in?

Uh...? Oh, I insist!

Oh! Sorry.

Doesn't seem to reverse.

Do come in.

Oh, dear.

Never mind, I'll fix it.

Oh, dear.

Shan't be a minute...

Lucky I forgot to buy the eggs!

Argh!

Can I get you something?

No, thanks. I just dropped by for a minute.

Surprised to see me?

Delighted.

You look different without the beard.

I'd hardly have known you.

Different-good, or different-bad?

Very good.

And me?

You look... splendid.

Hmm. May I sit down?

Make yourself at home.

Thank you.

Well... this brings back memories, doesn't it?

Thousands.

Remember the night the Sheikh invited me to join his harem?

Yes. I remember you said you couldn't because you weren't a member of the union!

Yes! Ha, ha, ha!

Well, well, well, Simone...

Tell me, how did your pictures turn out?

You must come over to my flat and see for yourself.

I absolutely must.

Hm...?

Oh...! How pretty!

D'you like flowers?

All natural things fascinate me. Do they fascinate you?

They absolutely paralyse me.

Mm.

I believe you met Felix McGregor?

D'you mean the man who produces films and eats babies?

He's an old friend of mine.

He tells me he wants to do a desert picture.

Aa-ah...

so, your visit wasn't without purpose, eh?

I never do anything without purpose.

Does that frighten you?

Foolish girl.

But I'd never sell rights to my books until after they've been published.

Never...?

Well, a principle...

is a principle.

That's exactly what I was going to say.

Good.

Look, why do we have to talk business when

we have so many wonderful memories to share?

All right. Let us share a few.

D'you remember how we used to keep warm during those cold desert nights?

I do, indeed.

All we need now to complete the picture is a cold wind...

and I think we've got one.

Excuse me. I should've knocked.

Yes. But we forgive you.

Ah, this is my wife, Fran.

How do you do.

And this is Simone.

Simone?

Simone Rolfe.

Oh, yes; the celebrated goat-killer.

Well, I'm really a photographer. Killing goats is just a sideline.

You travel quite a bit?

Yes - quite a bit.

Good. Then you won't be in London long.

Well... it depends...

Well, I must go, now.

It was nice meeting you.

It was nice meeting you.

Ooh, by the way, I'd love to read your new book.

May I?

Oh, we... well, I've only got five chapters so far.

Well, couldn't I take them?

Then, of course, I'll have to bring them back...

Oh... yes...

There you are.

Thank you!

Now that you know where I live, you won't be a stranger, will you?

I promise.

And you...? You won't forget my proposition... lover?

I promise.

Bye!

What 'proposition'?

Oh, just business.

Oh, really? Is that why she called you lover'?

She calls everybody 'lover'...

What d'you do, stand in line?

I detest vulgarity.

Oh, by the way - where do you keep the large brown envelopes in my study?

In the bottom drawer. Why?

I wish to send the first chapters of my book to my publisher.

Mr Lunton, here's the reader's report on Mrs Blake's first chapter.

Ah, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Let's have a look.

Now, then...

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

What's the matter, Mr Lunton?

This is not what I expected at all.

Now I have got a problem.

If you want me, I'll be at the Blakes'.

Charles! Come in.

Thank you. Is, er... is Reggie about?

No, he's out shopping. It's his turn today.

I beg your pardon?

Oh, I'll explain later.

Listen, Fran, I hope you don't think I'm frightened of Reggie;

it's just that I make it my policy never to hit clients.

I think that's a very good policy.

Charles, there's no need to be so nervous.

I'm not nervous.

Well, what is it, then?

It's your book, dear. You know, we may have made a big mistake.

Is it no good?

No, it's not that; but if these pages were to get into the wrong hands,

Reggie might be the laughing stock of the century.

Hah! Wouldn't that be wonderful?!

Now, Fran, Fran, wait a minute. It was our original

intention to make Reggie re-write, not to destroy him.

Intentions change.

Does the name 'Simone Rolfe' mean anything to you?

Good Heavens. Not another woman?

Have you ever heard of a man called 'Simone'?

Come to think of it... no.

Well, are you going to publish the book, or aren't you?

Because I'll need the money ―

to get the divorce.

Fran, you wouldn't!

Wouldn't I? Look at my eyes.

Ooh, I believe you would.

So if you'll give me those pages, I'll carry on with it

because if you won't publish it, I'll have to find someone who will.

Sorry.

I wish you'd change your mind, Charles; for me.

You know how I feel about you, Fran - but I can't.

Charles...

But it's a matter of loyalty.

If it weren't, I couldn't wait to get my hands on your-

Aaah! At it again, eh?!

Oh, Reggie, don't be ridiculous.

How dare you flaunt your lover in my face?

Lover?!

Yesterday it was the window cleaner.

She has the gall to admit it!

Me, Fran's lover?!

Well, how is it that every time I find you two you're larking about on the floor, eh?

Reggie, you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick.

Do you know what they do in the desert to men who touch other men's wives?

They cut off their hands!

Do they? How barbaric.

Not at all, they're most highly civilised.

We were talking about my book!

I've heard that one before.

Well, here's one you haven't heard before: he likes it!

Hah, hah, hah! What does he know about books? He turned down the Kinsey report!

I'll have you know, my taste is infallible!

All right, well, go ahead and publish it!

- I will. - Oh, Charles!

Oh, dear.

Show this creaking Casanova out of my house!

Your house? This happens to be my territory!

Out, or I'll take back my bathroom!

That isn't fair!

I'll do it.

Very well.

Oh, just a word of warning, he wears a corset.

He does not!

How do you know?!

Out!

And this happens to be my territory.

But, Charles, we were going to discuss-

I'm sorry, Fran, but I never stay anywhere when I don't know what's going on,

and I certainly don't know what's going on here.

Ah... what were we talking about?

Oh, yes - my book.

Now, the cover. I see my name in bold type...

and underneath, a picture; something revealing...

shall we say... my personality?

Let's go in here where we can have some quiet.

The bedroom's mine. And much more comfortable.

Why, I'd love to, lover... tout de suite.

- It's Blake? - Hm.

What does he vant?

What do you think? And I thought I was not getting through to him...

Vith your equipment, my dear, you could raise the dead.

You are sweet.

He asked me to go right over, so I'll ring you later.

You know, darling? You signal's been getting through to me also...

I didn't think you were still picking up signals.

Like a radar, my dear.

Lover... you are in the wrong beam.

Well, I should have the rest of the book outlined in a day or two, at the most.

Good, good, good...

Oh, I... I believe you've met my wife.

Ah, yes.

And this is my ex-publisher, Mr Lunton.

- How do you do. - How do you do.

Goodbye. I beg your pardon ― I mean, er... nice meeting you.

Is it?

Oh, thank you. How nice of you to say so―

I hate long goodbyes.

Yes... ha, ha... very original.

Ah-ah― you've forgotten something.

The back door, please.

The front door's mine ― remember?

Ha, ha, ha!

You were saying you read my book and adored it, weren't you, my sweet?

Yes...

and I can just see Cary Grant as you in a picture.

What a splendid idea!

We'll drink to that.

'Desert Fires' - remember?

Ah, how could I forget? Wow!

Don't spill any, or you'll burn the rug.

Cheers.

Oh, wait! Wait! D'you remember when we used to sit down on the ground to drink them?

Oh, yes, of course to keep from falling!

- That's it. - Let's do it.

Ah... there.

- Cheers - Cheers.

Splendid.

Mmm...

I hope you won't mind, I... I made some notes on your chapters.

You made some notes on my chapters?

Was that bad of me?

Oh, no, no... 'course not, I...

welcome any suggestions.

If there's one thing about me...

that's the thing about me. Heh.

Funny, isn't it, how quickly these things take effect?

Or funnier, what they make you want to do...

Oh...

Oh, no, don't worry, Simone...

just, er, a marriage of convenience.

Cheers!

Two more gone.

Mmm.

You know... floors are different.

Some are impossible.

I often felt that.

Let's have another.

Lovely!

Can you see it?

Um. Hm?

'Sandy's Productions Presents...

ba-ba-ba-baah! in Magnifoscope ...'

Reggie Blake's Bew Nook!

New book!

Yes - exactly.

If you make doubles, you won't have to bother again.

You... you know, Simone, you are an exceptionally clever woman.

I know.

Ha, ha, ha...

Ooh!

Ooh la!

D'you know, it's amazing that I can stand here completely sober!

Ha, ha, hah!

You are sitting!

Don't be ridiculous! Ha, ha, hah!

Simone...

do you really think my book'd make a good film ― eh?

I am positive. I am sure.

- You are. - Yeah.

I'll give my ex-publisher an apres farce.

Yes, but first you have to finish the book! Ha, ha, ha!

A mere detail. We'll go somewhere where I can concentrate.

The desert?

Yes! Oh, yes! And I can help you there...

My slave!

Mmm! That sounds deleecious!

How soon can you get packed, then, hm?

- Seconds. - Seconds.

I won't need much.

Just a few veils, eh?

If we go into the desert you can grow your beard again.

Give me another one.

Oh, yes, another one... hm, hm.

Is... is it Sunday? I hear bells. Mm?

It's the door.

Whose door?

I don't know...

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.

You know ― what were you saying?

What were you saying?

Front door ― yours.

Yoo-hoo.

Join us for a Desert Fire!

Reggie, the bell!

Reggie, the bell.

Ah! The bell.

My turn, my turn.

Oopla...

Oooh...

The Deshert Fire izh a drink.

I'd never've guessed.

No? Oh.

Well... I must... I must go now.

Must you?

Yess.

Oooh... she's angry...

- Goodnight. - Goodnight.

Goodnight?

Your coat.

Mmm... f-fiendish.

D'ooh!

Thass my drink.

Who'd want to stick a pin in the door?

Yes - when there are so many other places more deserving?

Ugh... I don't feel well.

You're drunk.

Oh, go on ― go to bed.

Where is it...?

Uh... Shelley...

No, no. I'm sorry. It's absolutely...

d'you mean to say you're asking me to seduce this woman away from Reggie?

Not seduce; entice.

Oh, of course, yes, I beg your pardon ― sorry.

Well, but, honestly, dear, if you'll excuse me for saying so, I think you must be mad-

Charles, you've got to. They're planning on going away together!

Well, they'll come back. Reggie always comes back.

Charles, please. I love him.

I don't know why anymore, but I do. You're my last hope.

Yes, dear, but...

even supposing I could do it, I mean, why should this

French mademoiselle be interested in a middle-aged,

confirmed bachelor like me?

Don't you realise you're at your most dangerous age?

Me? Am I? Ho, ho, am I really? Oh, I hadn't realised that―

No. Oh, you don't catch me like that, my dear.

Fran, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'd do anything, anything else, but not this.

The very thought of it makes me shudder.

Why?

Don't ask me why... Good Heavens, some people are frightened of wild animals,

and I'm not, I adore wild animals ― the wilder the better - but this is different;

I don't know why.

You've got to help me; you got me into this situation.

I got you into it?

Of course. If you hadn't sent Reggie into the

desert, he'd never have met that woman, and-

You see, it's all your fault.

Oh, dear, I suppose it is...

it's an interesting bit of logic, though, I must say.

All right then, I suppose...

Oh Charles, thank you. Thank you.

I might as well start getting used to this sort of thing, mightn't I?

You'll never regret it!

I regret it already!

- Now. - What?

...with a woman like Simone, you've got to be sophisticated...

suave... dashing... devil-may-care!

Have I? Suave, dashing... me?

Yes, you can do it! I know you can!

- You think I can? - Of course.

In business you're assured, very successful...

think of it as a business deal.

All right, then. She's a business deal.

I'll never forget you for this! Mwah.

'Suave'... 'Dashing'... 'Devil-may-care'! Ho, ho, ho...

'I'll give you the key to my heart.'

That's not bad, I'll make a note of that.

Oh...

Yes, Mr Lunton?

Come in a moment, will you, please?

What was it? I'll... give... you...

the key... to... my... heart.'

Yes, Mr Lunton?

Oh, erm... come in, come in, come in.

Ah... call me Charlie', will you?

I beg your pardon, Mr-

No, not 'Mr'. Just Charlie'.

'Call me...

Charlie'... 'course...

Hm... Christian name...

Fran.

Is there a doctor in the house?

Fran?

Fran...

Fran...

Good afternoon, sir.

Nice day for a stroll.

Wind's coming up a bit, sir.

Might get a bit chilly later on.

I'll get a hat.

This is my house?

Well, it's the one you came out of, sir.

Incredible logic.

I'll see you get promotion for this.

Thank you, sir.

Big'ead.

Mm...?

Hm. Good old friend...

'I Was Conquered by...

I wonder who she means?

I want to speak to Miss― Ma― er... to, to Mademoiselle Simone R-R-Rolfe, please.

This is Miss Rolfe...

Oh ― is it?

Oh, no...

This is, erm... this is, er...

Er, w... wait... Oh, yes, th-th-this is Dear Mr Lunton.

No, no... er, Mr Lunton, dear.

What am I talking about?

This is Charlie Lunton.

Oh. Lunton? The Mr Lunton I met at the Blakes'?

That's right, I met him too.

Oh, no, no... well, Ma... yes, I, I, I...

Hah, hah! Well, call me 'Charlie', eh...

Thank you.

Would you care to have dinner with me?

Oh, no... no, I'm sorry, I can't.

And then back to my place, naturally.

What?

Oh, no, no! No.

Oh, that comes later... I beg your pardon.

Hold on, hold on, will you?

Phew.

'Business deal', that's what Fran said; business deal'.

Of course... easy.

Are you there, miss?

Yes.

Er, mademoiselle. It would be to your advantage

if you were to have dinner with me tonight.

Oh, it would? How?

Well, you're a photographer, I'm told?

Yes...

Well... I'm a publisher, and I'm thinking of publishing a book of photographs.

Oh, you are?

Pick me up at my place at seven-thirty.

I beg your pardon?

Seven-thirty, my place.

Forty-five, Chapel Square.

Er, seven-thirty - wait a minute, wait a minute... don― don― don't―

Er, hello? Are you there?

Oouph.

Well, well.

'Call me Charlie', indeed...

Oh. How do you do.

Oh, Charlie, how thoughtful of you.

- Not at all. - Thank you.

They are beautiful.

Yes...

And now... you are going to tell me all about the wonderful book

you are planning for me... lover.

Lover... yes.

Erm... don't you think perhaps we ought to get to know each other a bit better first.

Go... go round the town... have some fun...?

Fun! I'd love to!

But I didn't think you were the sort of man who ever thought of fun.

Oh, ho, I wonder where you ever got that idea from?

'Fun's my middle name.

Oh, really? Come on!

You fun-loving Charlie, you!

Yes... hm.

Oh, what a cute leetle car! I bet it's fun driving it.

May I, lover?

Erm, 'Charlie'. Certainly, of course.

Get in.

There we are.

- She handles well. - Yes.

I like a car with guts.

Yes. So do I.

I have driven in the Monte Carlo rally four times

Really. Did you ever finish?

Ah, ha, ha! You're cute!

Hm, thank you. Tell me, wh-what's your favourite restaurant?

Maxim, in Paris.

I daresay I meant, er...

Well, it's much too early to dine.

Oh.

There is a party going on in Chelsea that sounds like fun.

- A-ha. - Shall we?

Er, yes, I've told you 'Fun's my middle name.

'Life is long', they say.

And I answer, 'Life is a junkie's dream, lying frozen in the gutter.'

Marvellous imagination, don't you think?

Er, ha, ha... yes, marvellous, marvellous...

Don't you like poetry?

No... oh, yes, poetry - yes, of course.

'Course I do...

..The way to make it is to play it cool.

The heart is real cool, too.

And I dig heart.

I dig the monkey on my back; the one on yours.

I make the scene with dopies... cats...

even John Law.

He has got a real talent.

You ought to publish him, too.

Well, it's a thought, yes...

For I'm the lion;

king of the cats.

Take a look in the mirror. That... creep,

staring back ripe for the six-foot box...

is you.

Bravo! Marvellous!

Erm, tell me, what's it called?

'The Optimist'.

Do you really think it's good?

I think it's excellent. Shall we go?

No, no, no, no, wait, you have to meet him!

Oh.

Charles...

Er, excuse me. That's yours, I think.

I want you to know Mr Oliver Rolinsky.

Er, Mr Lunton is a publisher.

It's a pleasure.

Crazy.

I listened to your poem with great interest.

Cool.

Have you, er... have you ever been published?

What for, man?

'What for, man?' - that's a good question, 'What for, man?'... ha, ha...

I mean, man... why?

'Why'? Ha, ha, that's another good one... Let me think... oh, er, money, perhaps?

I don't believe in it, dad. I dig truth.

That's very refreshing.

Sure, man. I don't dig parasites.

I beg your pardon?

I mean, man... you look like a hyena.

Know what I mean, man?

No, I'm afraid not. Do tell me.

Cool, daddy.

I'm pure, see? And... guys like you drink my blood.

Well, not just at the moment, thank you very much.

I think he liked you.

Well, shall it be your place or mine, then... baby?

Mine... baby.

Why, you...! How fast can we go?

About a hundred.

Bon.

Oh, no...

Oh... Ah...

Thank you very much for a lovely time.

No, no, come in, darling. Don't be afraid.

Oh, but aren't you longing to go to bed?

I beg your pardon ― I mean, to sleep?

The night is still young.

You have a lovely flat.

Thank you. You must show me yours sometime.

Oh, yes, of course, yes, yes...

You know... you are different to the other men I have met in London.

Different how?

Well, with the others I have to fight for my honour...

Oh, dear.

But you... I sense that you understand that love can be beautiful...

- Yes... - ...don't you?

Do you mean... sex?

As one free mind to another...

yes!

Ah ― I'm afraid it's past my bedtime.

Mine, too. So, you just relax, get comfortable...

and then we get to know each other better.

Thank you.

There you are.

Now, I get into something more comfortable.

And then we talk about...

my book.

'brrrrrrrrrr'... 'brrrrrrrrrrrrrr'...

'brrrrrrrrrr'... 'brr-brrrrrr'...

Baby?

What are you doing?

Making boats.

'Brrrrrrrr...'

Oh, no!

Baby, where did you get Daddy's book?

Found it. On the floor.

Get back to bed. Go on, quickly.

Oh...

First page of Chapter Two...

That's the first page of Seven, or is it page number eight...?

Second page of Chapter two...

Reggie's Chapter One ― it's burning!

Oh, it's... it's burnt!

Oh, no...

He'll think I've done it on purpose.

Page four...

You'll be immortal, all right. An immortal bore!

And it isn't only my opinion...

If anyone should write a book about you, it's me!

Reggie, in both capacities, it's no good!

...and, believe me, I need sympathy being married to you!

Reggie, I warn you...

You're beginning to believe your own publicity!

...and your book is lacking in inspiration.

And whats more important, lacking in humanity!

The old Reggie Blake is gone!

Gone, and forgotten!

No... no...

Uh!

I'm finished. The old Reggie Blake is dead.

Maybe I am dead.

I feel numb.

Huh... she'll be sorry. The old Reggie is dead.

What's the time?

It's late.

Coffee?

'I Conquered the Desert, by Reginald Blake.'

'The same moon and the same stars...'

Hn...?

Ah, Simone said she'd made some notes.

She's brilliant!

She's marvellous!

This is amazing.

Absolutely amazing.

Fran...

Yes?

I've been thinking.

What about?

Well, about you, and me, and life...

You have?

Yes. I was wrong. Completely wrong.

Made an absolute fool of myself.

Reggie, do you know what you're saying?

I must have been blind. It's all here.

I've found the person who can help me!

Oh, darling!

I knew you'd understand.

You've no idea how capable she is ― as a writer, I mean.

Who?

Simone.

- Simone? - Yes!

Yes, look at this. She said she was going to make some notes on my chapters, but...

She? She?!

Fran...?

Fran?

Fran, please, please! You're hysterical!

We're both mad! Absolutely mad!

Look, Fran, stop!

She didn't write those. You did.

Look - I'm referring to these.

Yes, so am I.

I promise you, I'll never see her again. I'll forget all about her.

All right, then. I confess.

It was an accident.

An accident.

You see, the first three pages of your book were in the oven.

The oven...

And I was ironing the rest of the manuscript.

Ironing... ha, ha.

Well, I had to get them dry.

Oh, yes, yes - of course you had to...

Well, I had to get them dry because they'd been sailboats.

Lie back, and I'll call a doctor, yes...? Hm.

Listen. Listen.

'To think... it was the same moon, and the same stars...

the same soft glow.

The child held out his little hand to me.

He was amazed. He'd never seen a sweet before.'

'Never...'

'I gave him some.'

But this is mine!

These are the letters that I wrote to you!

Yes - yours.

The old, magnificent Reggie Blake!

The old, magnificent Reggie Blake!

Aah! Ha, ha, ha!

Oh, and something else.

- What? - Your book.

What about it?

As a portrait of an absolute charlie it's the funniest thing I've ever read.

And the truest.

Darling, you're wonderful!

Yes, I am. Isn't it wonderful? But you're wonderful, too.

No. You're more wonderful than I am.

Oh... oh, there you are.

I had the most interesting experience last night.

Fran, your worries are over!

Simone showed me her photographs. Most illuminating.

I'm thinking of taking up photography as a hobby.

You know, darkroom and all that sort of thing, heh, heh, heh...

- Yes? - My darling.

Shut up.

Good Heavens. What's the matter with you?

Don't you want to hear about it?

Oh, well, of course, if you're not interested...

Mrs Reggie Blake Number One.

This way, madam.

Number Two...

Three... ha.

Number Four.

Excuse me, dear.

I take twenty-five percent of everything he gets.