Original subtitles

(lively music)

(car horn honking)

- Oh, bugger off!

Oh, you stupid old buzzard, you!

(car engine revs) Oh!

(bicycle crashes) (Murdoch screaming)

(bicycle crashes)

- Mr. Troon?!

Whoa!

Gert!

The Hon. Sec.'s dead!

Ooh, just look at all the blood!

- Blood?!

Where?!

Oh!

Send for a doctor!

Get an ambulance!

- Oh, Mr. Troon, you poor man, you badly hurt?

- Fairly badly, Miss Timpkins, but I'll manage.

- [Miss Timpkins] Oh.

(car horn honking)

- Shan't be a moment, Jackie, baby.

You want me to look with it, don't you, eh?

(humming softly)

Oh, you sexy beast.

(humming softly)

♪ Oh, I like a little bit better than a lot ♪

♪ And a lot better than a little bit of it ♪

- Oh, will you be late tonight, Mr. Fox, as usual?

- Shouldn't be at all surprised, Mrs. S.

Going to an orgy in Golders Green.

Don't wait up.

- I've no intention of doing so.

Kindly do not forget to bolt the door.

And I'll thank you not to make as much noise

as you did last night.

- Ah, yes, well, I won't bring her in tonight,

I'll deal with her outside.

(Freddy purrs softly)

- And, Mr. Fox, I haven't had last week's rent yet.

- Yes, well, things are a bit dicky

in the car trade at the moment.

But not to worry, Mrs. S.

Come on, give us a wee kiss.

(lips smacking)

(car horn honks)

- Come on, Freddy!

- My sister.

(truck engine roaring)

(brakes squealing)

Why don't you turn that game in?

- I refuse to be driven off the roads by you motorists.

(Freddy laughs)

- Buy yourself a decent car.

Get yourself a girl.

This one's for sale.

Possibly a bit on the fast side,

but she's on very modern lines.

Smashing upholstery.

She's a real bargain.

- What a suggestion.

- Other sales points include an ample rear boot,

loose covers, and automatic clutch,

leaving plenty of room for fancy knee work.

- Dirty beast.

(Freddy chuckles) - Oh, you poor thing.

You've hurt your leg.

- [Murdoch] Ooh, aye.

- Who was that?

- Hm, oh, that's our fellow lodger.

Works for the town council.

Fancy a ride on his handlebars?

- No thanks.

He can ring his own bell.

(Freddy chuckles) - Oh.

- You know, Jackie,

you're one of the loveliest girls I've ever met.

I don't know why it is,

but I've always been mad about redheads.

- And do you mean to say he didn't even stop?

- He did not!

For all he cared, I might have been splattered

all over the road.

- Oh, you poor thing.

Anyway, it's not bleeding.

- What?

'Tis so.

- Oh, then we must put some iodine on it.

I hope you're not going to let him get away with it.

- Oh, certainly not.

I'll trace him through his number.

I don't work in the council offices for nothing.

- And then you'll make him buy you a new bicycle?

- Aye, and a new plastic picnic pack.

(Murdoch laughs)

(screams loudly)

- Bulmer!

- Now what does he want?

(spring reverberates)

- Don't let it happen again.

- Ferncliff.

Ferncliff.

Where is the blasted place?

(car brakes screech)

- Don't you bloody cyclists ever give hand signals?!

- [Murdoch] Away, and learn to drive!

(lawnmower rumbling)

(bicycle crashes)

- Oh, no.

Bulmer!

Lose it, Bulmer!

Is it your contraption?

- [Murdoch] Aye, it was.

- Look at the hole you've made in my lawn!

- Look what you've done to my roadster.

And, if I'm not mistaken, this is the second time

you've buckled one of my wheels.

- I have never set eyes on you in my life before!

- Ooh.

(dramatic music)

This house is called Ferncliff?

- It is.

- And your name is Chingford?

- Commander Chingford.

- Quite.

And I'd be right in assuming

that you are the owner of car 200 DY0?

- What is all this about?

- I happen to be the cyclist

you tried to murder last Sunday afternoon.

- I don't know what you're moaning about.

But since I only see only the backsides

of cyclists when I'm driving,

I can hardly be expected to recognise their faces.

- I've got 22 witnesses

and unless you're prepared to settle this account,

I intend to summons you for contravening

the Motor Vehicles and Road Traffic Acts of 1930 and 1934.

There's the bill. - Don't you quote

the Road Traffic Act at me!

I remember the incident perfectly.

You deliberately obstructed me.

- That's not what my 22 witnesses will say.

- I have no intention of affording your fellow pedal-pushers

the pleasure of committing perjury at my expense.

This is blackmail.

(bicycle crashes)

I shall consult my lawyers.

Follow me.

(gentle music)

- Good for you!

The old man's always bossing people around.

- Aye, but I don't like the sound of those lawyers.

- Don't you worry.

They'll make him pay up.

They always do.

I'm Claire Chingford.

Come and have a drink.

- Well, I wouldn't say no

on a hot day like this, Miss Chingford.

My name's Troon.

Murdoch Troon.

- Are you Scotch?

- Scottish, yes.

- You have a kilt?

- Well, as a matter of fact, I do.

- And do you ever wear it?

- Well, not as much down here among the Sassenach,

except on extra special occasions, of course.

- Tell me, do you wear anything underneath?

- I most certainly do.

- [Claire] Come on.

(dog barking)

- Not there, not on my prize Sam McCready!

Blithering idiot.

No, of course I wasn't talking to you.

Don't be such a fool.

(laughs)

- Help yourself!

- Oh, thanks.

(gentle music)

- Thank you.

- Well, here it comes.

Down Sauchiehall Street,

or whatever you say on these occasions.

(Murdoch gulping loudly)

(coughs softly)

My, that's an awfully powerful fruit cup, isn't it?

- Well, hardly a fruit cup.

It's a mixture of vodka and curacao,

usually taken in smaller glasses.

But, of course, you being a Scot--

- Ah, Miss Chingford, a right good williewaught

never did a Scot any harm.

- Willie who?

- Williewaught.

"Here's a hand my trusty fiere and gie's a hand o'thine

"and we'll tak a right guid williewaught

"for auld lang syne.

"We twa hae run about the braes and pu'd to gowans fine,

"but we've wandered mony a weary foot sin auld lang syne."

Miss Chingford, may I replenish your glass?

- To save trouble, and as your account comes to four pounds,

17, and sixpence, here's a fiver.

And kindly stop quoting Burns to my daughter.

- [Murdoch] Aye, what about that front wheel

that got broken this afternoon?

- As you haven't 22 witnesses,

you won't be able to blackmail me into paying for that!

And now, get off my property!

- Murdoch can't go yet,

he hasn't finished his williewaught.

- Do you think we'd better?

- Go on.

- Sure it'll be all right? - Go on.

Don't worry.

Down Sauchiehall Street.

(laughs)

(Murdoch gulps loudly)

- "And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp

"and surely I'll be mine,

"and we'll tak a cup o'kindness yet

"for auld lang syne."

Goodbye, Miss Chingford.

It's been a rare privilege and a great pleasure knowing you.

(Murdoch screams)

- Oh! (dog barking)

- Clumsy oaf!

Now look what he's done!

- Murdoch, are you all right?

- Perfectly all right, thank you, Miss Chingford.

- Oh.

(dog barking)

Oh, we can't let him go like that, he's hurt himself.

- Good!

- Murdoch, how far have you got to go?

- Only six miles.

- Oh, leave that thing here.

I'll give you a lift.

- Oh, no, it's not necessary.

Besides, what would your father say?

- Oh, who cares.

You can collect your penny-farthing anytime.

Come on, get in.

- Well, all right.

(chuckles softly)

I'm sorry, Miss Chingford.

Those williewaughts must have been stronger than I thought.

- You must take my advice next time.

- I will.

Next time?

- What do you do about your girlfriends?

- Well, frankly, I haven't got one at the moment.

- I'm not surprised.

Surely, a chap like you should have a car?

- Aye, I've sometimes thought

that the assistant to the town clerk

should have a wee saloon like this, you know.

- Why not a sports car?

You like the fresh air.

- Do you like sports cars, then?

- Oh, I'm mad about them.

But the great dictator won't let me have one.

And I like the men who drive them.

- Do you?

- Yes, I do, you silly old williewaught.

(car horn honking)

- [Child] Press it again.

(car horn honking)

(children laugh)

- [Child] I'd like that on my bike.

- Thank you very much, Miss Chingford.

Oh, are you getting out?

- [Child] Oh, I'd like to go for a ride in it.

Where's the handle?

- I'm really very much obliged.

- [Claire] That's all right.

Whew, whose is this?!

- Oh, Freddy Fox's, I expect.

He's in the car business.

He brings a different car home every night.

(car horn honking)

- Oh, marvellous.

Absolutely fabulous.

Red Label Bentley, late '27, three litre,

short chassis speed model with long stroke,

four-cylinder engine, fitted with twin slopers,

and single overhead camshaft.

- You sure know an awful lot about cars, don't you?

- Oh, I'm mad about them.

- Oh, it's called The Fast Lady.

Is this the sort of car you had in mind for me?

- Well, hardly.

You have to be really with it to handle one of these things.

No, what I mean to say is it's the last thing to have

if you haven't learned to drive.

Mind you, I'd adore to have it myself.

- Hello.

Aren't you going to introduce us, lover boy?

- Oh, certainly.

Miss Chingford, this is Mr. Fox.

- How do you do?

- How about a buzz around the houses, Miss Chingford?

The old girl goes like a bomb.

Finest car in our showrooms.

- Well, it'll have to be quick.

Dinner's at eight.

- I'll have you back before the table's laid.

(Freddy chuckles)

(gentle music)

Don't bother to wait, lover boy.

(engine revving)

(playful music)

(dog whimpering)

If I must say so, Miss Chingers,

you're one of the loveliest girls I've ever met.

I don't know why it is,

but I've always been mad about blondes.

- Change down, brother.

- I'm not kidding.

The moment I first saw you, the old chemicals began to work.

Zoom, zoom, zoom!

- Chemicals?

- The old love glands, you know.

When I chap looks across a crowded room,

sees a beautiful stranger,

they all start to bubble up and say, "This is it, Freddy.

"This is the real thing."

Your chemicals saying anything to you, eh?

- Your mixture's too rich.

(Freddy chuckles)

- That's a pity, mm.

Well, in that case,

perhaps I might interest you in a buying this car?

- Ah, you certainly could, if you could interest my father.

But as he owns Alba Motors,

I don't think that'll be very easy.

- Alba Motors?

What, the sports car people?

Ah, that's interesting.

You don't suppose you could get your father

to give me the agency for Alba in this area, do you?

- I don't think so.

You're not his type, either.

- That's funny.

- Mr. Troon, your supper's ready.

Come along.

Oh, you poor thing.

You've been in the wars again.

- Eh?

Oh, aye, aye.

(car engine revving) (car horn honking)

Did you enjoy your ride, Miss Chingford?

- [Claire] Super car.

Bye-bye, Freddy.

- Bye, Claire! (dog barking)

- Hello, darling.

You can collect your bike anytime you like, williewaught,

but preferably when Daddy's out.

He usually plays golf on Saturday afternoons.

- What's all this Claire and Freddy business?

- Well, don't be a square, you square.

You can't go on calling a girl like that

"Miss Chingford" forever, can you?

Why, have you got your headlamps on her?

- Oh, don't be ridiculous.

- Ooh, I just wondered.

Between you and me, old man,

I think she's got a bit of a shine on you.

- Oh, man, don't be silly.

- Well...

- Did she say something about me, then?

- Rather, she never stopped talking about you.

She seemed rather keen on you buying The Fast Lady.

Don't know why. - Did she?

- Yeah.

- Oh, don't think I'm gonna fall for that one.

Besides, I can't even drive.

- Oh, you poor thing.

(knocking)

- Come in.

- There, I thought you'd like a nice glass of hot milk.

- Oh, thank you very much, Mrs. Staggers.

- Counting your money, Mr. Troon?

- Aye, I'm not doing so badly, Mrs. S.

- You wouldn't be thinking of getting married, would you?

- Married?

Oh, no.

(Murdoch chuckles)

Don't think that marriage isn't on my agenda, Mrs. S,

but, well, it's not the sort of thing

a sensible chap rushes into, you know.

- Quite right, Mr. Troon.

Don't you be hasty.

Sleep tight.

(TV clicks)

♪ Oh, it's because those green hills are not highland hills ♪

♪ Or the island hills ♪

♪ They're not my land's hills ♪

♪ And fair as these green foreign hills may be ♪

♪ They are not the hills of home ♪

(lively music)

(knocking)

- Did you want something?

- As you've bust your bike,

I wondered if you'd like a lift to work tomorrow morning?

- Oh, that's very kind of you.

- It's a pleasure.

Pleasure.

I thought we could, I thought we...

Do we have to have that ghastly programme on?

- Aye, we do, and it's not ghastly.

It's the best programme on English television.

Oh.

What's all this about a lift, anyway?

- Well, I thought we could drop in

at the country hall and get a licence.

- Why, are you getting married?

- No, not that sort of licence.

I mean a provisional driving licence.

Then you could take your first

driving lesson tomorrow night.

- Is it very expensive to learn to drive?

- Now, if you went to Kingscombe School in Pepper Road,

the first lesson is free.

- Is that so?

- [Freddy] Mm.

- Pepper Road, eh?

Well, I'll think about it.

- Yeah, you do that.

Chap with your know how shouldn't need more than one lesson.

(sniffing softly)

Cheery-bye.

Don't overwork your bagpipes, will you?

(door thuds)

(TV clicks)

(gentle music)

- [Claire Voiceover] Get yourself a sports car.

- [Murdoch Voiceover] Do you like sports cars, then?

- [Claire Voiceover] I like the men who drive them,

you old williewaught.

(car engine revving)

- 65 laps completed, three to go,

on the 2.9-mile circuit here at Silverstone,

and this critical race for this year's World Championship

has developed into a titanic struggle

between John Surtees, Graham Hill,

and the brilliant young Scottish newcomer, Murdoch Troon.

(tyres screeching)

This Troon is displaying

tremendous courage and determination

because with the peculiar suspension on his car,

he must realise that his tyres are shot to ribbons,

but with only two laps to go now, he's not letting up.

He's staying right in there

and fighting it out with the masters.

(car engines roaring)

And now, as they come down into Woodcoate Corner

for the last time, it's Surtees, Hill, and Troon,

and I don't think there's anything Troon can do about it.

But he's closing up on Graham Hill

on the braking distance,

and he's taking him on the inside,

and he's coming past Hill, and this isn't possible,

but he's coming alongside Surtees,

and he's getting past Surtees, and he's done it,

and Troon wins by inches.

What a brilliant victory for this young Scotsman.

(tyres screeching) But now, the car

suddenly swings across the road.

He's lost it and he's over, the car's turned over.

I don't know what it was.

I should think it must have been a tyre burst

at over 120 miles an hour.

But we'll send John Bolster down to investigate

just as soon as possible.

- Governor!

Governor, are you all right?!

Speak to me, Governor!

Speak to me!

- I'm all right, Jack.

(sombre music)

- Any last words, Troon?

- I'm glad that I won for Scotland.

- Well, we were lucky to hear the words

of a very gallant gentleman.

- [Freddy] Governor.

- Make way, please.

- [Chingford] Make way.

Make way, now.

- Is he gonna be all right, Doc?

- I shall have to operate at once.

Pass me me saw.

(saw rattling)

- I don't need an anaesthetic, Doc.

Just give me a wee williewaught.

(elegant music)

- Murdoch, darling.

- [Mrs. Staggers] Half past seven, Mr. Troon.

- Oh, darling. (Mrs. Staggers screaming)

- Mr. Troon!

- Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. Staggers.

I was having a lovely dream.

- It's not like you to have those sort of dreams, Mr. Troon.

You'd be better off having a cold bath.

- Yes, madam, I've fixed your test at Broadley Heath.

(chuckles)

Yes.

Excuse me a moment, madam.

Would you mind taking a seat, sir?

Thank you.

Now, listen.

- You taking driving lessons, man?

Let me tell you something.

This is a very good school, you see.

Excellent teachers.

So far, I've only had two crashes.

- Yes, madam.

Oh, excuse me, madam, slight emergency.

I'll call you back.

Oh, good afternoon, sir.

Ken Kingscombe, at your service.

Now, sir, if you will just fill in this form,

I will arrange for your first free lesson.

Now, were you planning a course of 12 or 24?

- Well, I thought I'd just have the free lesson first

to see how I get on.

- I see.

Yes, well, would you put your name and address here

and just sign it at the bottom?

(Ken chuckles)

Ah, good, good.

Now, if you'll just excuse me, sir,

I'll see if the CDI can take you right away.

- [Murdoch] The CD what?

- The CDI, the chief driving instructor.

I should like him personally to handle your initial run.

I can't think what's happened

to your instructor, Mr. Constantine.

- Perhaps he's had another crash, huh?

(both laugh)

- Oh, very amusing.

Ah, there's a tight-fisted Scot outside,

only wants a free one.

Now, if you butter him up a bit,

you might squeeze six out of him.

Huh, you're in a bad way, Basil.

Nerve not going, is it?

- No, I'll be all right.

- Ah, good man.

Good, good.

Now, then, Mr. Troon, this is our CDI, Major Wentworth.

- How do you do? - How do you do?

- The CDI is a very excellent motor teacher, you know.

He gave me my first 20 lessons.

(laughs)

- Follow me, Mr. Groom.

(Constantine chuckles)

Just one word of warning before we start.

- Oh, yes?

- Some people seem to develop a sort of power complex

when they get behind a steering wheel.

- [Murdoch] Go on.

- Oh, yes, they get selfish, arrogant,

intolerant to criticism, even from their own instructors.

- Oh, I know the type.

- I sincerely hope that you will not be one of those.

- Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Major.

Intolerant of criticism.

(laughs)

Dual controls, eh?

- Just in case.

Well, let's run through the controls, shall we?

- Aye, it's just as well if you tell me

which is the brake and which is the gear lever.

(laughs)

- You're not serious?

Well, this is the gear lever and that's the accelerator.

(engine rumbling)

(car crashes)

- Hey, man, what is this, another crash?

Look.

(laughs)

- Three: Look in the mirror.

Now, why do we do that?

- To make sure that the road is clear behind.

- Well done.

Five: Make the appropriate hand signal.

- Like this? (hand slaps)

(tyres screech)

- Of all the brainless, four-eyed, dim-witted twerps,

you take the whole bleeding cake!

- Go and get...

Yeah, well, that's another golden rule.

Anybody who shouts at you like that, keep calm.

Well, come on, then, what are you...

I'm sorry. Go on.

Five: Put your clutch out and engage the gear.

- Yeah. - Six: Release your handbrake.

- Uh-huh.

- Seven: Let your clutch in again.

At the same time, gently depressing the accelerator

and you move smoothly out into the road.

Right?

- Well, it's an awful lot to remember,

but I think I can manage it.

- Well, let's have a shot at it, then, shall we?

- [Murdoch] Yep.

(car engine revving) (tyres screeching)

- Now, what did we forget?

- The bloody handbrake.

- Shall we try it again, then?

(car engine revving)

(car crashes)

You put it in the wrong gear!

- I know that, you damn fool.

Why didn't you tell me?

- I can't be expected to watch everything.

- But you should do.

You're supposed to be the instructor, aren't you?

- Shall we try it again?

- Aye.

And let's get it right this time.

- Man, this sure a great day for crashes.

(laughs)

(lively music)

- It's awful easy, isn't it?

(tyres screeching)

- Not quite so fast.

- I know what I'm doing.

(tyres screeching)

(chuckles)

I'm a very good judge of distance, you see.

You weren't nervous, were you?

- Not at all, not at all.

You're exceeding the speed limit.

- Well, who's to know?

What's the matter with it?

We're losing power.

- Nothing the matter, I'm applying my brake.

- I thought I was supposed to be driving this car.

- You're supposed to be doing what I tell you.

- I would have thought it was obvious

that I had a natural aptitude for driving.

- Oh, dear.

- I'm getting a bit fed up with your carping criticism.

Oh, come on, come on.

Make your mind up.

Blasted cyclists.

Come on, get a move on!

Think you own the road?!

(car horn honks)

(car horn honks)

- Pull into the side, let him pass.

- Why should I?

- Well, I expect he's in a hurry.

- Ha, we're all in a hurry.

(tyres screeching)

(car crashes)

- [Chingford] Don't you ever teach your pupils

to give hand signals?!

- Now, then, don't you start picking on my pupil.

He was entirely blameless.

- That brainless idiot was never blameless.

- It wasn't my fault!

This old bosom walked right in front of me!

- [Woman] Don't you dare speak to me like that!

(umbrella clanks)

- I quite agree with you, madam.

- All you motorists are alike!

(umbrella clanks)

- Madam, please, let us keep our heads.

(umbrella clanks) Oh!

Oh. (crowd shouting)

- For all she cared, I might have been blinded for life.

Is the bruise very bad?

- I can't see anything, Mr. Troon.

- Must be an internal wound.

- You worried about your future, Fox?

- Good Lord, no, sir.

- Well, I am.

You haven't sold a car for three weeks.

- What?

Oh, it can't be as long as that.

Oh, yes.

- I'll give you a week.

No sales, no job.

- Well, there's nothing to worry about, sir.

I'm pretty confident I can flog this old sputnik here.

- Said that a month ago.

- I've got a real sucker this time.

- Oh?

- And furthermore--

- Yeah?

- What would you say if I got this firm

the agency for Alba Sports Cars?

- What would I say? - Yeah.

- I'd say, "Well done, partner."

- Partner?

- In the meantime, you're still on a week's notice,

don't forget that.

(sighs)

- Hey, did you want a word with me, Freddy?

- Oh, yes.

I've just been talking to Ken Kingscombe

up at the driving school.

- [Murdoch] Oh?

- Yes, he thinks you're a born driver.

He reckons if you had a car of your own,

you'd pass the test in a week.

- Oh, you're just trying to kid me into buying this.

- What a rotten suggestion.

Anyway, I couldn't, even if you wanted me to.

- [Murdoch] Oh?

And why not?

- Practically sold her this afternoon, titled chap.

Tell you what, though, there's a very nice

little saloon car up in the showroom.

- I'm not interested in saloons.

What's he offered you for it?

- Hm? Offered for what?

Oh, this?

Only 475.

- 475?

Pounds? - Mm.

- Oh, that's an awful lot of money.

- Well, as I always say, you can't take it with you,

so you might as well drive it there.

(chuckles)

- Have you accepted his offer?

- Yes, of course.

Well, as good as.

Cor, it's a giveaway at that price.

A giveaway.

I've got bills here for 400 pounds

spent on the engine alone.

Look.

Look at these tyres.

Marvellous.

Have you ever seen leatherwork

on a modern sports car like this?

Never.

As Claire Chingers said the other day,

it's one of the most beautiful Bentleys ever made.

- Aye, she said that to me too.

Hm.

- Well, I'd better get back to the showrooms.

That titled chap is coming in

to settle the deal, seven o'clock.

(car engine whirs) (car engine rumbling)

- If I made you an offer of 500, would you take it?!

- What?

I couldn't do a thing like that.

We car salesmen have a code of honour, you know.

- Oh, pity.

- Mind you, if it was somebody I could trust,

somebody who'd love, honour, and cherish the old girl...

It's no good.

I'm a sentimental old fool.

I've no business in the motor trade.

It's yours for 500 pounds.

Credit or cash?

- Oh, cash, naturally.

I'm not paying out interest to another English moneylender.

- Congratulations.

- Oh, I haven't actually-- - What's more,

I guarantee to teach you to drive her.

In next to no time, you'll be roaring up to Claire's house

like a knight on a white charger.

- Oh, a green charger.

- Yes, exactly.

Come on, let's go inside and settle this deal

before I change my mind.

That titled chap, he's gonna be furious.

(Freddy chuckles)

(tyres screeching)

- Silly old fool.

Never looks where he's going.

- Doddering old nincompoop.

(bicycle clattering)

Bulmer!

Is this thing yours?

- No, sir.

I don't own no bicycle.

When I go shopping, I takes a number 16 bus

from Highfield Road, then I changes over

to a number 23. - Bulmer.

I do not care where or how you do your shopping.

Who is the owner of this heap of junk?!

(lively music)

The next time you attempt to deceive your doting parent

by concealing a bicycle under a piece of sacking,

be so kind as to arrange that it does not become entangled

in my rear bumper.

To whom does the bicycle belong?

- Ooh, get with it, Daddy,

you know perfectly well it belongs to Murdoch Troon.

You ran it down with your mower, remember?

- And now, I've run it over with my car.

- Ooh, lucky williewaught.

You'll have to buy him a new bicycle.

- I shall do nothing of the sort.

It would be far more to the point

if he was to remove himself entirely from the district.

- What's he done now?

- Not content with being a menace

to the cyclists on the roads, he's learning to drive a car.

And whoever suggested he should so do

ought to be stood up against a wall and shot.

- Go ahead and shoot.

It was me.

- You know, I simply cannot understand

why you encourage this haggis-headed halfwit.

There are so many other pleasant young men

to go around with.

- I'm bored with all the boys that hang around me.

I'd like Murdoch to take me out.

I think he's a doll.

- A doll?

- Yes, he has such possibilities, especially in a kilt.

- No, darling, I simply cannot allow you

to go out with that clown.

(lively music)

Claire, where are you going?

- I'm going to give him back his bike.

And I'll tell him you ran it over,

so you'd better call your lawyers just in case.

- Check for me, logbook for you.

You're now the proud owner of The Fast Lady.

More sherry?

- Oh.

Thank you very much.

- Cheers.

- Cheers, Stirling.

Cheers, Jack.

Cheers.

- Let's put our cards on the table.

You want Claire Chingers,

I want the agency for Alba Motors.

- Yeah, but I don't see the connection.

- Claire's old man owns Alba.

Few words from you in Dad's little ear hole,

Bob's your uncle.

- Aye, well, Bob's not gonna be anybody's uncle.

Mr. Chingford hates the sight of me and vice versa.

- All the more reason why you need my help.

- I don't need help from anybody, thank you very much.

(car horn honking)

Here!

Take your hands off that car!

- Hi, williewaught, I've brought back your penny-farthing!

That's about all it's worth now!

- Oh, it's Miss Chingford.

What will I do?

What'll I say?

- "I don't need any help from anybody, thank you very much."

- All right, I'll make a deal with you.

You help me and I'll help you.

Right, what do I do first?

And hurry.

- All right.

Now, go outside and say,

"Claire, you're one of the loveliest girls I've ever met.

"I don't know why it is, but..."

No, that won't do.

(Freddy chuckles)

No, say, "Claire, Claire,

"I've got a marvellous surprise for you."

She'll say, "Have you?"

And you'll say, "Yes, I've taken your advice

"and I've bought The Fast Lady."

- And what will she say?

- Oh, she'll say, "Bully for you," or words to that effect.

After that, you've got it laid, made.

Come on, get with it.

- Are you sure it will work?

- Of course it'll work, but just to make absolutely sure,

swink, gives a man girl appear.

(gentle flute music)

(chuckles softly)

- [Claire] Hello, Willie.

- [Murdoch] Oh, hi, Miss Chingford.

Oh, let me.

- [Claire] Thank you.

- Oh, dear.

Oh, what a mess.

Never mind.

Claire, I've got a marvellous surprise for you.

- Bully for you.

- No, you've said that too soon.

The fact is I've taken your advice and bought The Fast Lady.

- What?!

I don't believe it!

- Now, that's when you should have said "bully for you."

- You know, that's not the car for you.

You'll never learn to drive it.

- Oh-ho, that's where you're wrong.

I'll have this car mastered for the weekend.

- [Claire] Take it easy, Superman.

- Hold this.

When Murdoch Troon makes up his mind

to do a thing, he does it.

And to prove it, I'd be honoured if you would come

for a drive with me on Saturday afternoon,

if you don't object to I plates.

- In five days?

(Claire laughs)

Well, if you really can drive it, I'll risk it.

- Fine.

I'll pick you up at your place, eh?

- Take it easy meanwhile,

I'd hate to see it end up like that.

- Oh, that.

(chuckles)

(Freddy chuckles)

- Did you get the green light?

- Ah, there's only one small thing, though,

I've got to learn to drive The First Lady by Saturday.

- Saturday?

(laughs)

You out of your tiny Scotch mind?

- I've a guarantee, remember?

- Now, look, I've got important business

every night this week.

- No driving lessons, no deal.

- Oh, very well, all right.

My word is my bond, you ask anyone.

Well, almost anyone.

Get in.

(gears creaking)

- These gears are a bit tricky!

- Actually, you're rather rushing things, old man!

Take it easy!

We're not on the circuit, you know!

- How much did you say she could do in third?

- 70, but you're not in third yet!

(gears creaking)

- We are now.

(car engine roaring)

(tyres screeching)

- Take it easy, Murdoch.

Not so fast.

You're only a learner, you know.

(chuckles)

Slow down, Murdoch, traffic lights.

Slow down!

(tyres screech)

- Blast, he's got away!

The engine's packed up.

- She stalled.

You left her in gear.

- Oh, I know!

- When was it you were hoping to take Claire out?

- Saturday.

And if you're hoping for that agency from her old man,

you'd better instruct me a bit better

than you're doing at present. (motorcycle rumbling)

- Don't look now, there's a gendarme on our tail.

- I'll shake him off.

(car engine whirs)

- Don't be a berk.

Let him pass.

- Oh, all right.

(gears creaking)

Why doesn't he pass?!

- He's going to stick.

Take a side turning and lose him.

- Oh, right.

I'll take him by surprise.

(laughs)

(lively music)

(table crashes)

What's the matter with them all?

Why won't they stick to the rules of the road?!

- Pull into the side, you clot, it's a one-way street.

- Don't you call me a clot!

You told me to turn into it.

- Pull into the side, please!

(tyres screech) (car engine hisses)

- Call yourself an instructor.

You tell me to do one thing, then when I do it--

- Keep calm for heaven's sake, here comes the law.

- What do you mean, "keep calm"?

I'm the calmest person here.

- And which one of you is the learner?

- I am.

- I'm sorry about this, Inspector.

I'm a qualified driver, of course.

This gentleman's my pupil.

Between you and me, when he saw you on his tail,

he completely lost his head.

- I did nothing of the sort!

I knew perfectly well what I was doing.

- You mean you deliberately went down this one-way street?

- Now, don't you put words into my mouth.

If you ask me, you'd better off

chasing bank robbers and sex maniacs

rather than trying to catch out innocent motorists.

- I see.

May I see your driving licence, please, sir?

- Certainly.

Oh.

- Pick it up for him.

(yelping)

- [Murdoch] Oh.

I'm sorry, I--

- Well, that makes three offences so far.

Failure to give proper hand signals,

driving down a one-way street,

and assaulting a police officer.

You've been drinking.

- I have nothing of the sort!

Well, I've only had one glass of sherry.

- Yeah, that's what they all say,

but they don't usually try to cover it up with perfume.

- Now, look here, Officer--

- Keep out of this.

Or have you been drinking too?

- Certainly not.

I'm a teetotaler.

- Yes, well, get in the driving seat and follow me.

- What's the idea?

- You'll find out.

- This is the police surgeon.

Now, you're sure you don't wish me

to call your own doctor to examine you?

- I've told you at least 19 times that I'm not drunk

and I'm not calling out my own doctor on a wild goose chase!

- Very well, carry on, Doctor.

I'll be outside the door if you need me.

- Name?

- Murdoch Troon.

- Name?

- Murdoch Troon.

- When did you last take food or drink?

- I had lunch at midday.

Shepherds pie, boiled potatoes, green peas, and red cabbage,

followed by a suet roll with treacle and white coffee.

The price was five shillings,

and I paid for it with a lunch voucher.

- And you still feel well?

- Perfectly.

- What is the day of the week and the time of the day?

- If it's of any importance, it's the 23rd of June.

Hm.

And according to that clock on the wall,

it's about 2:15, but according to my watch, it's 8:55.

- Add up these numbers: seven, six, 14.

- 27.

(mumbling softly)

- Quite correct, all right, stand up.

(doctor sniffing softly)

- You've been drinking whiskey.

- I've only had three.

What's it go to do with you?

- Say, "The Leith Police dismisseth us."

- The Leith Police dismiss...

The Leith Police dis...

Look here, I'm asking the questions.

Now, I want you to put your arms down at your side,

close your eyes, and touch the end of your nose.

- You do it first.

- Oh, very well.

(gentle music)

There you are, see?

It's quite simple.

- Anything else?

- Yes.

I want you to walk in a straight line

along the edge of this carpet, so...

(table thuds)

(chuckles)

- Anything else?

- Sergeant!

This man is as sober as I am.

Goodnight.

- Thank you, Doctor.

Now, if you have not objection, I'll be on my way.

- Oh, no, you won't.

There's that little matter of assaulting a police officer

in the execution of his duty.

- Yeah, but that was an accident.

- You can tell that to the chairman

of the bench tomorrow morning.

- Call Murdoch Troon and Frederick Fox!

- Now, there's nothing to worry about.

Look the old beak straight in the eye,

tell him the truth, the whole truth,

and nothing but the truth.

And British justice will do the rest.

- Present, Your Worship.

(dramatic music)

- Murdoch Troon, do you plead guilty or not guilty?

- If the police constable

hadn't adopted an aggressive manner--

- Plead guilty, be nice to him.

- [Chingford] Do you plead guilty or not guilty?

- Oh, for heaven's sake, man, I'm trying to tell you,

of all the impertinent, the unreasonable,

the impossible constables that...

- Do you plead guilty or not guilty?

- Guilty.

- Me too.

Definitely guilty.

- You will be fined 25 guineas and three guineas costs.

- 25 guineas!

Ha, you call this English justice, you old goat?!

- [People] Oh!

- And a further 25 guineas for contempt of court.

- Thank you very much, Your Worship.

- As for you, Fox, your responsibility

as driving instructor being correspondingly greater,

you will be fined 30 guineas and pay three guineas costs.

- Thank you, sir, I absolutely deserve it.

- Your sandwiches and hot tea, love.

- Thank you, Mrs. S.

- Doing your accounts again?

- Aye, being an owner driver's more expensive

than I anticipated.

Road tax, 15 pounds; insurance, 39 pounds;

secondhand motoring kit, six pounds;

legal proceedings, 55 pounds, 13, and eightpence.

- You poor thing.

- Oh, and that's not all.

I've only had the car two days

and I've used 25 gallons of petrol.

- I expect it's sprung a leak.

Anyway, you can't say I didn't warn you.

Anything to do with Mr. Fox is sure to cause--

- Sure to cause what, Mrs. S?

- [Mrs. Staggers] Trouble, Mr. F.

- Well, there's gratitude for you.

Here I am giving up a smashing party in Chiswick

to go out onto a cold and windy airfield

to make Murdoch into a budding Grand Prix winner,

and all you can say is I cause trouble.

Really, sometimes, life is hardly worth living.

- If you ask me, Mr. Troon would be far better off

in bed with his cocoa.

- Oh? Who's this Cocoa?

Oh, yes, of course, I see what you mean.

Right, now, let's try the next one.

Lesson four: A three-point turn in a narrow road.

This is the road here, between these oil drums.

Now, remember, you've got to get round in three

without actually touching-- - I know, I know.

Don't make such a fuss about a simple turn.

(oil drum crashes)

(oil drum crashes)

I did it in two!

(laughs)

- [Freddy] Ah, ah, ah!

- Oh, you don't have to worry about this.

I could back into there with my eyes closed.

- Now, just do a normal reverse into the garage

and imagine this is your own.

- Anchors away!

(garage crashes)

- [Freddy] It's just as well you haven't got a garage!

(tyres screeching)

(tyres screeching)

- I think I'm getting the idea!

- No, you've got no control!

Always turn into the skid and then just touch your brakes.

- Well, that's what I was doing!

Well, let me try again.

- No, jump out, please.

You've got no idea.

I'll show you how it should be done.

Hold my apple, will you?

Shake him.

(tyres screeching)

(tyres crashing)

- You know, for a moment there,

I thought you'd lost control.

(chuckles)

(gentle music)

(rain pattering)

- You know, Maya,

you're one of the loveliest girls I've ever met.

I don't know why it is, you know,

I've always been mad about brunettes,

especially when they turn up unexpectedly.

You thought I'd got another girl here, didn't you, hm?

- Yes, Freddy, darling.

- Naughty, naughty.

You should know by now, Freddy Fox is a one-girl man.

(car engine rumbling)

What are you stopping for, Murdoch?!

- I was soaking wet, freezing cold,

and it's way past my bedtime!

- We must endure these hardships!

Another 24 laps, if you please.

24 laps should be enough, shouldn't it, Maya, baby?

(lively music)

- Three o'clock, Daddy.

Aren't you gonna play golf?

- Cancelled it, my dear, more important things to do.

- Oh, you know you always play golf on Saturdays.

And you know the exercise is good for you.

Besides, you're getting a terrific pot.

- I never do anything that's good for me.

Furthermore, I have no intention of entering

any beauty competitions.

(water splashing) - Oh!

(laughs)

- Oh, there's money there, all right.

Now, don't forget what I told you.

Keep to the side roads.

Give her tea in Guildford

and take her to Frensham when it starts to get dark.

It's all marked here on the map.

- You're absolutely sure it is a quiet place?

- Quiet?

You can even hear the butterflies take off.

Just the place for the old passion stakes, eh?

- She's not that sort of a girl.

- Pity.

Well, I hope mine is.

Well, she's bound to expect a bit

of the old synchromeshing, surely?

Well, kiss or two, anyway, eh?

- And when does the great lover expect me to start all this?

- When the old moon comes out,

the old nightingales begin to warble.

Look into her eyes, breathe hotly down her neck,

and then let Mother Nature take its course.

There's nothing coarser than Mother Nature.

Good luck.

And if you get any time in between the old gear changes,

you know, put in a good word for Freddy Fox.

Move over, Grunhilde, baby.

Dreamboat's firing on all cylinders.

- Come on.

(car engine revs) (car engine rumbling)

(breaks screeching)

I'm sorry, Miss Chingford.

My foot slipped.

But I don't know what's happened to your gardener.

- Oh, he gets in everybody's way.

Oh, thank goodness, I think he's all right.

Wow.

- Oh, well, I felt it was a special occasion.

- You know, you look fabulous!

Oh, look out.

- This is the fourth occasion on which we've met.

I intend it to be the last.

Take this car off my lawn.

And, anyway, you've no right to be driving it

without a qualified driver by your side.

- I've only been left at the--

- This is private property,

and, anyway, I'm a qualified driver.

Murdoch's come to take me for a drive, Daddy,

and there's really nothing you can do about it.

- Oh, yes, there is.

He happens to be the worst driver

that has ever been my misfortune to encounter.

- It might interest you to know

that Murdoch learned to drive this car in less than a week.

I think he's marvellous.

- Red Label?

- Yeah, believed winner at La Mans.

- Nobody could learn to drive in a week in this car.

- Murdoch did.

- You keep out of this.

I'll have you know, young man,

that I'm a veteran motorist of 40 years standing.

I've raced this type of car both at Brooklands and La Mans.

If you can convince me that you can handle this car,

even passably, I may allow you to take

my daughter out this afternoon.

- Challenge accepted.

- Very good.

- Don't worry, Claire, I'll show him.

(dog barks)

- You bring him down a peg or two!

Good luck, darling!

- Which way?

- It takes me exactly 42 minutes

to reach Wilmington Golf Course from here.

A novice should be able to do it in 55.

That way.

- Right.

Shall we synchronise our watches?

- Don't be infantile, boy.

There's a clock on the dashboard.

- Oh, so there is.

(tyre booms) (tyre hissing)

Oh, my back tire's gone.

- You have exactly 54 and a half minutes left.

- You don't mean you're gonna charge me time

for changing my wheel?

- Why not?

The good motorist sees to it

that his car is, in all respects, ready for the road

and in perfect condition.

- Oh.

- As we're on a hill,

I presume you have chocked up the other rear wheel?

(groans softly)

- Where the hell does it go?

(hammer clanking)

- Why don't you see if it's got a left-hand thread?

You'll save yourself a lot of time.

(hammer clanking)

(gentle music)

- My wheel!

Somebody's stolen my wheel!

- It went that way.

(lively music)

(chair crashes)

(woman screams) (furniture crashes)

- [Man] What do you think you're playing at,

you stupid idiot?!

The man's a maniac!

I'm gonna do something about this!

(hammer clanking)

- [Murdoch] Well, it's done.

- You have 35 minutes left.

(car engine revving)

- Something's gone wrong with the engine.

- I should have thought it would have been obvious,

even for a novice, that a car cannot move forwards

unless both rear wheels are in contact with the ground.

(whimpers softly)

(car horns honking)

23 minutes left.

- [Man] Come on, come on!

(car horn honking)

- Don't you blow your horn at me, you bloody roadhog!

Can't you see I'm stuck?!

- Well, push that thing to the side!

Get your friends to help you!

- What?!

With an 30-year-old mother,

a wife who's expecting, and three little kids?!

It's people like you who started the war!

(kick thuds)

- I'm not gonna stand for that, you big bully!

(kick thuds)

(hood thuds) (car engine rumbling)

(car horns honking)

(lively music)

(tyres screeching)

How much time left?!

- 15 minutes!

- Well, we're doing over 90,

so I think I can safely say that we'll make it.

- As we've been going in the wrong direction

for the last three miles, I think that's very unlikely.

- But why didn't you tell me?!

- A good motorist travels at a speed

at which he can see the signposts.

(tyres screeching)

(car engine sputtering)

- Something's gone wrong.

- You've run out of petrol.

- Oh, blast!

We'll have to push it to the nearest petrol station.

- We?

(sighs softly)

- 22 gallons, please.

- [Attendant] Yes, sir.

- How much time left?

- Two minutes, and as we still have six miles to go,

I think we can take it that you have lost.

Your driving is deplorable, your road sense is execrable,

and your mechanical knowledge, nonexistent.

I doubt if even a woman could drive worse.

- If you think you're so marvellous,

how about you driving me back

in, shall we say, 35 minutes?

- Certainly.

- And if you don't make it,

I can take Claire out as arranged?

- Certainly.

I shall be delighted to give you a demonstration

of how a car like this should be driven.

And, shall we say, 30 minutes?

(car engine revving)

I presume you won't mind if I take a shortcut?!

- Do what you like, it's your 30 minutes!

(people chattering)

- [Chingford] What's the matter?!

I want to go that way!

- [Announcer] Will all competitors

please make sure you have reported

to the scrutineers office? - Blast!

- A good motorist knows when a hill climb is taking place.

- [Announcer] The next group of cars will be starting

the hill climb in about 15 minutes time.

Will you all make sure that you are ready?

(car engine revving)

- Number six is putting up a wonderful show,

but he just doesn't have the speed.

He's trying very hard.

Perhaps he'll make it.

Oh, no. Bad luck.

Number six, five points only.

Now, let's see what Ken Longhurst and his--

- There is a novice.

Went fast when he should have gone slow, and vice versa.

- I suppose you could have done it better.

- I could, and I will.

(lively music)

Bounce!

Go on, faster!

Child's play!

Now, we'll take another shortcut.

(water splashing)

(groans loudly)

- Look what you've done!

You've ruined my car!

- Nonsense.

These cars will stand up to anything.

Whole point is it's going to take you

a good hour to get out of here.

- Me?

Are you not gonna help?

- Why should I?

I'm in no hurry.

It's you that's taking out my daughter.

- You mean that I've won?

- Unfortunately, yes.

I never go back on a bet.

(gentle music)

(car horn honking)

(dog barking)

- Well, it's nice of you to turn up!

You're only three hours late.

Had a smashing afternoon watching "Noddy" on TV.

- No, no, it's all right, Claire, I've won!

And your father was a very good sport about it too.

- Well, if you're still thinking of taking me out,

you can take that smug smile off your face

and go and wash it,

and your knees.

- My knees?

Oh, I see what you mean.

Well, I'll just, yes.

Oh, could you tell me where the little boys' room is, sir?

- In the hall, first on the right.

- Oh, first on the right.

- You're not seriously still considering going out

with that knobbly-kneed Scottish nationalist, are you?

- Yes.

And he's not got knobbly knees.

Actually, they've got dimples on them.

If you must know, I think he's got terrific guts

and, I don't know, he's just different.

- He has no road sense,

no mechanical knowledge, and no money.

- [Claire] I don't care about that.

- By no stretch of the imagination

could he be considered good-looking.

And he lacks charm to a remarkable degree.

- Not to me, he doesn't.

- Darling, you know I'm only thinking about you.

You're all I've got left.

And I don't want to see you making a fool of yourself.

- I won't.

- Well, if you insist.

But I suggest that you're back by midnight.

- [Claire] Oh, you're a darling!

(Chingford chuckles)

(elegant music)

- Oh, sorry.

(chuckles)

Sorry.

He's making no progress at all.

He hasn't got a clue.

- Perhaps his old chemicals aren't going zoom, zoom, zoom.

(dog growling)

(gentle music)

- What's that?

Noises off, Grunhilde, baby.

Now, keep very still, absolutely still.

All right?

It should be filled with water, really.

(chuckles)

But, I suppose, gin will do.

- Well, get on with it, we have been hanging around

for hours doing nothing.

- We'll rectify that.

If you should hear a nightingale

calling soulfully to its mate,

don't get too excited, it's only me.

Excuse me.

Oh! Ooh.

- Do you have to do all this?

- Grunhilde, my fascinating little Fraulein,

you want to wear mink, don't you?

- Do you agree with your father

that I lack charm to a remarkable degree?

- No, of course not.

Otherwise, I wouldn't be here.

- Oh, that's very true.

- Well, here goes.

(mimics nightingale chirping)

- Oh, listen, a nightingale.

- Oh, aye.

There's nothing like sounds of Mother Nature.

And you agree that by no stretch of the imagination

could I be called good-looking?

- Stop fishing for compliments and kiss me.

- Kiss you?

- Oh, that's better.

- Who said Scotsmen are cold?

- Well, wasn't it Robbie Burns?

- I won't need the nightingales.

(speaking in foreign language)

- What? (Freddy chuckles)

- I'm not much good at foreign lingoes.

But not to worry, I'll get by in the Common Market.

Kiss me, (speaking in foreign language).

Kiss me.

- When are we going swimming?

- Anytime you say, (speaks in foreign language) baby.

What say we skip convention

and risk it in the old all together, eh?

- What is the "old all together"?

(Freddy mumbling softly)

(laughs)

- Ya?

(hand slaps)

All right, then.

Nein.

- Darling, what are you doing?

- [Murdoch] My foot's caught in the gear lever.

- Ooh, come on.

(gear clicking)

(gear clacks)

- Feel as if I were floating on air.

(dog howling)

- [Claire] What time is it, darling?

- It's early, it's early, it's early.

(dog howls)

Quiet, boy, quiet.

(yelps softly)

Oh, we're standing in water.

How on Earth did we get here?

- We must have rolled down the hill.

- Oh, what are we gonna do?

- We'll have to get out and push.

(dog barking)

- One, two, three, push!

- Oh!

(dog barking)

(both laugh)

(clock chiming) (clock ticking)

- [Freddy] Ah, good evening, sir.

Good evening.

(dog barking)

- Water in the carburetor.

It couldn't be helped.

- Go to your room.

- Anything you say, Putsy.

Goodnight, williewaught, my darling.

It wasn't his fault.

He's a beautiful driver.

(lips smack)

- Did you?

- No, I didn't.

And I hope you noticed what she said about my driving.

- Only a woman blinded by infatuation

could be guilty of such self-deception.

- It might interest you to know that I intend

to take my driving test immediately.

And what's more, I'll bet you anything you like

I pass it first go.

- Done.

And if you fail, will you give me your word

never to see my daughter again?

- What about if I pass?

- The chances of that happening are so remote

that I will willingly let you take her out

whenever you so wish.

- And let him marry her?

- Mind your own business.

And kindly remove your car, your fancy woman,

and yourself from my property.

- Road junction, footpath, traffic lights.

Road junction, footpath, traffic lights.

- Hey, what's the idea?

Why has he got two eggs when I've only got one?

- You are not taking a driving test today.

He needs building up.

Now, you're not to get yourself into a state, Mr. Troon.

- Quite right, there's no cause to get nervous.

Everything's fixed.

I spoke to that pal of mine

whose cousin is one of the examiners.

- I don't need any help from anyone

to pass my test, thank you.

- I dare say.

With so much at stake,

we don't want to take any chances, do we?

- Well, as long as it's all above board.

- Well, of course it is.

Mind you, it'll cost you a bottle of scotch for my pal,

but that's a small price to pay for the woman you love.

Now, here's the drill.

When I drop you there, wait in the waiting room

till a chap comes along with a large moustache.

You know, one of those big, bushy, war surplus jobs.

He's your man.

So get up and wink at him.

- Wink at him, eh?

(egg cracks) Oh!

My finger!

Mrs. Staggers!

Look, my finger.

- Oh, you poor thing.

- [Freddy] There it is.

- Will you be here when I come back?

- Rather.

Planning a sort of surprise.

Welcome committee for the conquering hero and all that jazz.

"England expects this day, every Scotsman to do his duty."

(car engine rumbling)

Ah, that's my boy.

- Hey.

Youse a pupil from the very fine

Kingscombe School of Motoring, ain't you?

- Oh, yes, hello. - We meet before, sir.

- [Murdoch] Yes, that's right.

- Your first test?

My seventh.

Very strict here, you know.

Not allow a single mistake.

And what do you think, don't like crashes.

(laughs)

(chuckles)

- Is that why they failed you?

- Mm, but only on two occasions.

Last time, they fail me for a most trifling matter.

- Oh?

What was that?

- Lighting cigar.

Apparently, not permissible while overtaking bus.

- Oh, well, that's one thing I won't do.

(lively music)

- Miss Oldham, do come this way, please.

- You know, I was hoping to get the squadron leader myself.

Very keen talker on cricket, that man.

He was the one I had the crashes with, remember?

Still, as long as I don't get Mr. Bodley.

- What, why? Who's he?

- An outstandingly disagreeable person is that man.

Don't like cricket, don't like calypsos.

Ha, he don't like nothing. (door clacks)

Morning, Mr. Bodley.

Very fine day, sir, with excellent sun for taking test.

- Mr. Murdoch Troon, please.

- Man, this is my lucky day.

(Constantine laughs)

- Which is your car?

Did you drive it here yourself?

- [Murdoch] Aye.

- And where is the qualified driver who accompanied you?

- Well, he's gone off now.

- He should have remained in the car until I arrived.

Very well, carry on.

(handle clacks)

(door thuds)

- Sorry.

If I make any mistakes with my gear changing,

it's because I had a wee bit of an accident this morning.

- Do you wish to cancel your test?

- Oh, no, no.

It's nothing at all, really, it's--

- Then why mention it?

Proceed.

(car engine whirring)

- Cannot get...

(car engine whirs)

(car engine rumbling)

Forgot to switch on.

(chuckles)

Will I continue down the High Street?

- I'll tell you what to do and when to do it.

- Thank you very much.

- Pull into the side of the road, if you please.

- Oh, have you been taken sh, oh, the side, yes.

Certainly, sir.

- Yes, he's taking the test now.

I thought it would be a splendid idea

if you were to come over,

give him a bit of a cheer when he gets back.

Oh, and why not bring your delightful father along too?

- Well, I'll do my best.

But listen, Freddy, are you sure he'll pass?

I thought they failed everybody the first time.

(Freddy chuckles)

- Not when the tester's a pal of Freddy Fox.

- Before I get you to start up again,

I should like to ask you one or two questions.

- Oh, this is where you're,

oh, I've been looking forward to this.

I think I can safely say that I know

the Highway Code backwards.

- Frontwards is quite sufficient.

Perhaps you'll be good enough to enumerate

six of the eight occasions

on which you do not overtake another car.

- Let me see now.

One, at a pedestrian crossing.

Two, at a road junction.

Three, a humpbacked bridge.

Four, a pedestrian crossing.

- You've already said that.

- Oh, did I?

Oh, well, four is a corner.

Five, humpbacked--

- We've had that one too.

- Yes.

Five...

Oh, I know.

Where the road narrows, and that's the sixth.

- On the contrary, it's only five.

- Oh, oh, yes, I, sorry.

I forgot.

On the brow of a hill.

Ask me another.

- Now, let's see you start up again on a hill.

(car engine whirs)

(exhaust pipe booms)

(car clacks)

(exhaust pipe booming)

Supposing a heavily-laden lorry

were to come over the brow of the hill at high speed,

what would you do?

- Let me see now.

What would I do?

Well, the important thing would be to keep my head.

(chuckles)

(gasps)

(tyres screeching)

(crates crashing)

(car horn honking)

(dramatic music)

- Take that filthy weed out of your mouth

when you're talking to me.

- You're absolutely right, sir.

Filthy muck.

- You and my daughter have lured me here

by means of a trick.

Thereby caused me to miss a most important engagement.

The only reason I'm staying

is in order to have the satisfaction of learning

that Troon has failed his driving test.

- Oh, look, there they are.

- He's got the wrong examiner!

(gears creaking)

(gun firing)

(dramatic music)

(whistle shrills)

- [Policeman] Stop!

Follow that car.

- Who, me? - Yes, you, and step on it.

Don't worry about the speed limit.

- But, Officer, he-- - Will you shut up?!

Get on with it.

- [Claire] Oh!

- [Policeman] We'll need your help, sir!

Reverse! - Come on, we're going too!

- [Freddy] Right. Go on.

(tyres screeching)

(tyres screeching)

- Don't bother about hand signals, step on it!

- Well, what about the Highway Code?!

- Oh, to hell with the Highway Code!

- Right!

(lively music)

(car engine roaring)

(car engine roaring)

(bell ringing)

(people shouting)

- I'm coming down.

What did you say?

- Don't! - Right!

(man screaming)

(Claire screams)

(tyres screeching)

(tyres screeching)

- Can't you go any faster?

- If this idiot learner would stop swaying

all over the road, I could pass him.

- You mean you would if you could drive as well as he does.

(Freddy laughs) (cork pops)

(cork clacks)

- Ooh.

- Oh, no, no, please don't overtake on a humpback bridge!

(car engine roaring)

(car crashes)

(tyres screeching)

(tyres screeching)

(golf clubs clacking)

- Odd.

(golf clubs clacking)

Bloody odd.

(ball clunking)

(golf club cracks)

(ball clacks)

- Fore!

(ball clunks)

(ball whooshing)

(ball clacks)

(ball clanks)

(ball clacks)

(tyres screeching)

(tyres screeching)

(cars clunk)

(sign crashes)

(car crashes)

- Williewaught!

My hero!

- Fabulous, Murdoch!

You were a credit to me!

(men grunting)

No examiner in his right mind

could possibly fail him now, could he, sir?

- Well?

Come along, man.

- Far as I'm concerned, he is disqualified for life!

- Disqualified?

Well, that's that, then.

Goodbye, Claire.

Goodbye, Mr. Chingford.

- But, Murdoch, you can't go--

- No, no, Claire.

I lost my bet with your father,

and a Troon never goes back on a bet.

(sombre music)

- Putsy!

- Just a moment, young man.

I decide who has won the bet.

As a matter of fact, I very much doubt

if I could have handled The First Lady better myself.

- You're dead right, sir.

- And just because this regulation-ridden,

form-filling, pen-pushing nincompoop

is unable to recognise a good driver when he sees one,

you may now go out with Murdoch whenever you wish.

- Putsy.

Oh.

And may I ask him to marry me?

- Certainly.

And if he says no, just come and tell me.

(gentle music)

- [Claire] And from now on,

I'm gonna do the driving. - Thanks!

(car engine whirs) (car engine rumbling)

You've forgotten to put the handbrake off, darling!

(tyres screeching)

And when we get to the main road,

don't forget to give the correct hand signal.

- That's enough of that, williewaught.

(lively music)

- Goodbye!

Have a good time!

Ah.

Oh, excuse me, sir!

Are you going back?

- I am, alone.

- Bearded nit.

(tyres screeching)

Could you give me a lift?

- [Woman] Jump in.

- Oh, thank you very much.

It's very kind of you.

I got stranded.

If I may say so,

you're one of the loveliest girls I've ever met.

I don't know why it is, but I've always been mad about...