Original subtitles

NO POCKETS lN A SHROUD

Are you going to be a great goalie?

Like Spelmann at Sporting?

He has lots of cars.

A man on his salary doesn't ride scooters...

The cops didn't notice.

But the Prefect's son was drunk as a skunk!

It's a minor incident.

Minor! What if the Prefect's son had been run down by a worker?

You'd have been at the funeral, ''My condolences, Prefect...''

Don't make a fuss, Dolannes.

You know the boss's philosophy: don't offend the reader.

French readers are ridiculous...ly conservative.

My job is to preserve his ideas, not change them.

- l'm a curator - So we keep our traps shut.

The boss can say what he likes but l'm a lackey like you

only with greater responsibilities.

Your first being to censure your editors!

The boss risked his money

so he could publish HlS newspaper, not yours.

He inherited an empire!

He had rich ancestors, we didn't.

You can't blame your parents for being poor.

My dad was a tax inspector, hard-up all his life.

It's not his fault, nor yours, nor mine.

This place is a cemetery!

You bury scandals: the Prefect's son, Sporting...

Careful, Blesch is their chairman!

Your biggest advertiser.

No adverts, no paper.

Then what would we do?

Watch state-run TV... controlled by the government.

Thank goodness for adverts. 46% of our overall takings.

No, l'm out... Adverts are news too.

A new fridge is news?

I've never seen you turn down a cold beer.

- News isn't a business... - So what is it? A mission?

Maybe. The truth.

It's bought and sold, like anything else.

And lies?

It's the truth. Anything can be bought.

- Even sportsmen! - They have their price.

They do adverts as well:

skis, toilet paper, drinks... That's the system.

Nice system.

People only care about money, you can't change them.

Life is short. Enjoy it while you can.

You've got no balls.

Take that back or you're fired!

Don't bother. I resign.

Good riddance! I've had enough of Don Quixotes!

Where can I find Jo, the crime columnist?

I don't know everyone around here.

You little pervert!

I can play football too...

You're crazy, you're taking everything!

These are my personal archives.

If it wasn't for the wife and kids,

I'd have done this a long time ago.

Do you have to be a bachelor to be a journalist?

Almost. It's a bit like the priesthood.

You'd give anything for the truth. Even your life.

I'm no martyr.

Maybe he's pleased l've resigned.

Have no regrets. You've won back your dignity.

- What's left of it. - You're intact.

If you knew how I envy you, Mick.

What do you say I make us a farewell coffee?

Good and strong. The sugar's with the paper clips.

It's Mira!

Mira Barnowski!

Did you find me a job?

That coffee machine gave me an electric shock.

What a day! No coffee, one death and a resignation.

- It augurs well. - He seems highly charged.

I don't blame him. He was gagged so he resigned.

I'm not surprised. I quit Russia 2 years ago.

Resignation wasn't an option.

She's come from Kiev on an lsraeli passport.

I came via Vienna and Tel Aviv. I wanted to get to know France.

Land of freedom!

Here, the poor have no voice.

In Russia, even the rich can't say anything.

You don't seem keen to leave.

Missing the paper already?

The smell of ink! We love it, eh, Mr Dolannes?

Ink can still lie, it depends on the boss.

If I were the boss, I wouldn't do a thing.

Say you were the boss.

I'd want plenty of money.

This is a daily paper. Supposing it were a weekly.

Say, 1 0,000 copies to start with.

- My own weekly? - Your very own.

That gives me an idea. Thank you!

So you're going to become a boss. Well, well!

Your very own rag.

Politics, internal and external,

social, sport and legal sections...

Gastronomy...

''The Everyman''.

''Everyman''. That's pretty good.

Not for a 1 0,000-run weekly.

- The ''Globe''. - Sounds too globular.

- Le Cosmopolit. - In the provinces?

Country fairs, pig markets...

Not those types of pigs.

- Give me your hand. - You want to marry me?

The left hand.

- She's into lines. - Oh no, not that!

Are you afraid?

Do I look it?

What's this gypsy doing here anyway?

I came of my own accord. It was fate.

Spare me the ''fate''.

Suit yourself. But you're wrong.

I treat such things seriously.

Every morning, I drink a cup of coffee.

How many sugars?

Not today though. That's why I was at the paper.

- Unfortunately... - I went to your office.

You already regretted having resigned.

She's clairvoyant.

You couldn't chicken out in front of me

which is how you got the idea for your paper. It was fate.

You're too smart for your own good.

All I need now is a burial plot.

Listen, big mouth.

Every Monday, a businessman takes a plane from London.

He buys a paper at the airport.

- He boards the plane... - The guy's a robot.

Then one day, he buys a paper near his home.

At last, a change in routine.

He stops to chat, he's late, his plane takes off...

And explodes. A bomb in the toilet.

It just means he was fettered from cradle to grave.

Such theories are fine for shrinkers, but not me.

Jo, fate says it's your turn to pay.

I'm off to raise funds for my rag.

Can I help?

- Are you on the game? - You fool!

Do you know how I got my passport?

Tell him, Jo.

She had to consent to...

the whims of the passport official.

So...

Maybe you could use my experience

to fund your organ of truth.

- l'm no pimp. - Good luck with Le Cosmopolit!

Trust me, he'll make it work.

He's broke...

LAURENCE PRlNTERS

That's not what I want to do.

Not defend religious or political theories.

I'm no Catholic, Marxist, or anarchist.

My intellect is free... completely free.

That pink's a bit bright.

That's not a naked woman it's a piece of meat.

Tone her arse down a bit.

I'm interested in news, events, facts, truth.

- Let's see... - lt's the army thing.

Hi, Mick, how's it going?

- And yourself? - Could be better.

Bad guts. The canteen serves up shit.

- How was the black pudding? - Rotten.

Well, I ate some.

Mr Culli is a gourmet. He prefers haute cuisine.

The print is tiny. It's a magazine for retired soldiers.

They're like civilians, their eyesight deteriorates.

We'll do it like a poster.

Yeah, a communist poster! Culli, your works stinks.

More than the food you eat in my canteen!

Do it again.

Can you read it?

He's trying it on.

He looks for excuses to get rid of me.

Because you're the union delegate.

Wait till the Left are in power.

Commie press censorship?

No thanks, pal. I'm a free journalist.

Bourgeois!

You said it!

You supply the paper and printing.

What?

I'll take care of advertising, distribution, editorial stuff.

You pay for printing.

You want me to finance it? That's different...

- We'll clean up! - Then go ahead.

So you're out?

- l'll print it... for a fee. - You're not interested.

Yes, but I won't invest a penny.

We have the backing of honest people!

Honest people aren't in power...

- What if I pay you? - That's different.

Shake on it.

- You have 50,000? - l'll get it.

- Where from? - The toffs.

- Philanthropists? - Artistes!

- I see. - An amateur theatre group.

- Still treading the boards? - Whenever I can.

Right. Helps you make contacts.

- I do my best. - I await the money.

You'll get it...

''Lambs of God, go in peace!''

You're acting like stiffs.

''Lambs of God, go in peace!''

Idiot! This is a modern Joan of Arc.

Do it again, Avril.

''O Lord, give me the strength to slaughter the English.''

Brandish your sword!

I'm a maiden, not a butcher's assistant!

I've decided that Joan and the King will meet secretly tonight.

To make love.

Makes you sick. Purity is so beautiful.

You can buy it at the flea market.

Nasty man!

I'll wait for you...

- So when are we getting married? - Right now.

I'll get you...

I'm tired.

Time for a break?

How much is the play costing?

Nothing. No point in being wealthy otherwise.

The theatre's mine, the actors are friends.

The costumes are from my factories, I did the sets.

- And the playwright? - Don't be ridiculous!

- A total nut. - Escaped from an asylum?

He's going back soon. Pity.

I quit my job. I'm starting my own paper.

What type?

A rag that exposes all the depravity in this goddam town.

Excellent! Sounds fun. Will I get a mention?

On the front page.

Are you seeking a backer by any chance?

You're a mind reader.

You rascal! I like you.

You have bad taste, though.

Am I badly dressed?

You look a real go-getter.

That's why you hang around here.

You'd love to be one of us. A toff.

A real dyed-in-the-wool one.

I still like you, though.

I finally get a good part,

a character with ideals, and she screws her executioner.

You're having a crisis of conscience.

All we do is mate like beasts.

Well, we have to make children.

You can talk.

I love kids. And you're just a big baby.

Come tomorrow, l'll advance the money for your paper.

It'll cost 50,000 to see the birth.

I'll help you deliver, dear Michel.

I'm tired of my character.

Not my on-stage one, my real-life one.

A spoiled, rotten, rich girl

who collects lovers.

Too much Joan of Arc!

I want to marry.

- Someone else? - Raymond.

I'm too old to feel free by sleeping with all-comers.

- lt's preposterous. - To start a home?

To have children?

- So you're dumping me? - l'm not dumping you.

- We'll love each other. - I don't want to.

What's the difference? I'll be married with kids.

It won't prevent me taking a lover.

So l'll be your bit on the side.

Of course not. I love you, Mick.

Then let's screw for one last time.

Is this really the last time?

Where are you going?

50,000... You'll go a long way. Maybe as far as the cemetery.

I'll show you your office.

You make it sound like a morgue.

Indeed. The cemetery's antechamber.

Carry on like this and you'll need a bulletproof vest.

Even for screwing...

Here we are.

This is all I can offer you.

I should modernise things but...

There's your phone - extension 1 7.

It's hooked up to our meter.

I'll need 2000 up front to cover calls.

- You give nothing away. - Would you?

You're going to make lots of money.

I'm not trying to get rich...

So, is Le Cosmopolit off to a flying start?

I'm snowed under. No time to chat.

- Don't you wear knickers? - Nylon irritates me.

I'll buy you some Japanese silk panties

but just get out!

- lt's cosy here. - Mira...

Keep the phone on the left so you can take notes.

I don't need you to tell me.

You needed me to tell you to start a newspaper.

If you'd had coffee, we'd never have met.

I'd have withdrawn my resignation and...

And here you are! Haven't I brought you good luck?

I've made you lucky in love too.

Did your cat do that?

You're off the mark. That particular romance is dead.

Naturally. You have me to thank for splitting up with her.

You to thank, you witch?

Thanks to me, you've split with the past

and become a new man.

Was that written in the Big Book of Fate too?

You don't know how to read it. I do.

That's why I can help you. Where should I sit?

Nowhere, I don't need you.

You're too cocky. You're heading for a fall.

So be it. Now clear off!

What time should I start tomorrow?

OK... Iet's say nine o'clock.

Is Mr Dolannes here?

I'm his secretary. Can I help you?

- lt's about adverts. - That's my department.

Come tomorrow at nine.

''Registered.'' ''Order to pay.''

''Final warning.''

''Seizure of salary.''

I have no salary, Ducon. I'm freelance.

How's it going?

I've written half the articles but l'm shot.

No time for that. There's a lady to see you.

- Who? - No idea. Doudou!

Doudou!

Who's the dame waiting for Michel?

What's that fool doing here?

No queers here, only guys.

Send the idiot back.

What with food, board, laundry, clothes...

I was meaning to tell you, l've picked up a girl.

I've got a date. Can you lend me a tie?

- I lent him my only suit. - So I see.

- So who's the girl? - An old woman.

You're scoring with old girls now?

- Sleep with a crocodile? - A crocodile named Avril.

A last night before the nuptials.

You have last nights every day!

I met a witch this afternoon.

Her lips were bright red. So red...

And her arse was plugged into the central heating.

Same old song, eh Doudou?

Walter, is that a blade in your razor or a piece of flint?

Go ahead, I use it for the hairs on my arse.

Can you stand me a movie?

Walter, l'm broke!

The toilets are blocked.

Did you tell the landlady?

She says no plumbing bills without rent.

Christ, I need a shave!

Can I keep the tie?

And I need your car for the chick. I'll fill it up.

Give me 1 000 for the taxi.

Buy high-octane or the engine splutters.

Mr Dolannes?

In person. And who are you?

Genevi�ve's mother.

About time too.

I sent her to the country. Her affair with you was a scandal.

All my affairs are scandals.

For the child's sake, don't answer her letters.

- I never answer letters. - She adored you.

In fact, she still does. But..

But you've ruined it. Are you happy?

Very! I don't like men accepting money from young girls.

I've paid her back 5000 francs.

Obviously, if you look at it that way...

No wonder young girls lose their heads.

This place is so bohemian.

The furniture... the old canvases...

That mirror must have seen a few lovers.

And all this passionate literature!

I haven't seen erotic illustrations like this for many a year.

Such painstaking detail, such imagination!

A woman with an octopus... Astonishing!

I'm sorry but l'm very busy.

I have to meet someone. I'm launching a newspaper.

I must dress. Excuse me...

Anxious 40-odd-year-old mothers obviously leave you cold.

Poor man. Why should I care?

Should I give a damn if you sleep

- with my daughter? - Of course not.

She can love me... but you'd be pissed off if she married me.

We can recognise talent, my dear.

- In a wage-earner. - l've nothing against wage-earners.

So I have money. Lots of it. That's not my fault.

If you're ashamed of your fortune, give it away...

and live in a two-roomed apartment. It'd suit you.

No-one speaks to me like that!

Everyone grovels to my money. Grovels, Dolannes!

Even your daughter. But I don't. Now get out.

How dare you! I'll report you... My husband...!

How long is it since you made love like in the book?

I make love when I like...

As I like... You don't believe me?

It isn't true.

I've never...

Humiliate me.

But not too much...

Well, l'll be!

The stuff they dig up!

Incredible! Look what they've come up with now!

''Spelmann accepted ten million to let in 3 goals

''during a derby between Sporting and ANC Olympic derby...''

Journalists' lies.

''...when Sporting blocked his transfer to ANC

''who had offered to double his salary.''

I've given my all for France. I don't believe in Santa Claus.

How's the new paper doing?

We've sold 1 0 or so. But people seem interested. It's a good sign.

It's working.

Look who's here.

Blesch, the Sporting chairman.

In person.

Pay her.

Give me a hug! You've done a great job.

- Thomas read it this morning. - He must be mad!

- Crazy! - l've implicated him by name.

Why did R�publique Derni�re hush up the scandal?

Because Ferdinand Blesch, famous collector of fine cognacs,

bought advertising space.

Be warned: he's writing an editorial to refute the allegations.

More publicity for us!

Still screwing that blonde in Accounts?

Corinne? Yeah... my wife's a bit delicate in that department.

- Poor Jo! - Screw her tonight.

Get me the invoices for Blesch's adverts.

I'll photocopy them and write you an article.

Working for the opposition now, Jo?

- Looks like l'm out of a job. - Wise up, Jo!

He has a wife, his kids are sick.

I'm not a welfare agency. He can't work for both of us.

Looks like l'm a free agent.

Jo, get to work.

I'll dig up all the dirt you had to bury here.

Mira... fetch me the Carlille file.

- You're not dredging up Carlille! - Just watch me.

- l'd like a quiet word. - Why?

- lt's Father Thomas. - Alright, Culli?

Fine, since you fired me. Still a capitalist?

- Still in the communist racket? - A racket, is it?

Who seized all the newspapers in 1 945?

Don't start that crap.

We had 4 Communist dailies before the War and 52 after it.

We salvaged them.

Salvaged what you couldn't be bothered to...!

- You came here to make trouble! - You're the troublemaker!

That Sporting article

- is a disgrace! - You ain't seen nothing yet.

You're forgetting the journalists' code of honour.

- Not at all - That's how it looks.

The Professional Journalists Charter stipulates the following:

''Any journalist worthy of the name shall regard slander,

''unsubstantiated accusations, lies or distortion of facts

''as serious professional misconduct.''

Doesn't apply to me!

You accused me by name of forbidding you

to report the Sporting scandal for financial reasons.

It's what you said.

The Charter's penultimate article also says:

''Any journalist worthy of the name shall put scruples

''and concern for justice before all else.''

Maybe I did make you hush up this story.

But you know my obligations to the boss.

Why did you want to see me?

Blesch's brother, chairman of Sporting,

secured the job for me with R�publique Derni�re.

He got me promoted to editor in chief.

I owe my career to him.

Be reasonable.

Withdraw your allegations against the club.

For me... in the name of our friendship.

You and I have never been friends.

We've always been a boss and his subordinate.

There you go.

The football association has suspended Sporting's goalkeeper,

demanded an inquiry

and wants to know why facts, known to a certain newspaper,

have never been revealed.

You want war? You'll get it!

Too stylish for me.

Nothing's too stylish for the editor in chief of Le Cosmopolit.

Editor in chief?

I'm the managing director.

This is a strictly professional relationship.

You got me fired from Sporting. My career is in tatters!

Spelmann!

Any professional sportsman who accepts a bribe to lose a match

is a shit.

Now clear off, you shit!

This may come in handy.

It's only the beginning...

I'm bored here.

You said you'd publish a photo of me.

Next week. I promise.

Shall we dance?

May l? You're very rude. Introduce us.

Liliane... Mira...

- lt'll get cold. - Let me borrow him.

Michel and I are soon to be married.

Whenever you like.

You can have him. I can't stand marriage.

I'll leave you to your girlfriend.

But remember, l'm your future wife...

Nice. Where did you find it?

Woolworth's.

Smart girl!

Parading yourself with the enemy!

He's a theatre chum.

As your father, I forbid you to associate with that crook!

Your uncle has legal wrangles with that footballer.

Lucky we have a prosecutor in the family.

- I think Dolanne's funny. - We'll sort it out.

That's all we ever do: sort things out for you!

I'm more of a nanny than a brother!

Every time Sporting scores a goal,

people think the opposition has been bribed.

1 00,000 a goal is an expensive kick.

Screw you.

And insolent to boot!

We may have to make you disappear for a while.

Who's that?

Avril.

You should keep away from those people.

Especially now they're your targets.

What do these women have that I don't?

Money earned by their father, their husband, their lover?

Are any of them great scientists or of any use to humanity?

Married or not, they're all...

Silk-clad whores.

You're right.

Still, you'd rather screw a high-class hooker

in a designer dress

than a gal who dresses at Woolworth's.

Things that glitter fascinate me.

Would you be ashamed to dance with me?

I don't know.

I'm happy to be with you.

See him?

The toff in the glasses. That's Carlille.

He's our next target.

Looks distinguished.

He distinguished himself by messing so badly with 3 uteruses

that their owners passed away.

Do people know?

It's what they say.

Your ice maiden.

Is that her husband?

Your freezer dumped you for a treasure chest.

Bitch!

I'm in the way here. I'm leaving.

Get back to your toffs!

Congratulations to the newlyweds.

I hear it was a great wedding.

But I can't mention it in my society column. I wasn't invited.

Forgive me, it was strictly friends and family.

Only 2 or 3 hundred guests.

We all read Le Cosmopolit. You're a great journalist.

I say it because I mean it.

The shit and the cuckold.

Cuckold-to-be...

Why are you avoiding me?

You're married. We've moved on.

I can't bear his touch.

We're newlyweds. Allow me to finish this dance.

Are you crying?

I put itching powder in her knickers...

Mr Dolannes...

I hear l'm going to get a mention in your newspaper.

Who told you that?

Rumour travels fast.

Especially in the media world.

Yourself and Avril made a nice couple.

You used to.

So what? Neither of us is dead.

Unlike some of your female clients...

Mr Dolannes, you must be aware I have a certain influence.

The National Assembly has a fine orator in you.

You managed to secure a majority in the anti-abortion debate.

Great speech: ''respect for life...''

''a gift from God...''

And ''life is solely in the hands of our Creator.''

''To have a child is to serve France.''

You're as pro-birth as a general:

you need cannon fodder.

We need youth to run machines, to work the land.

Otherwise, no cars, no food,

no journalists, no doctors - nothing.

Retired people will soon be a crippling burden on France.

Everyone knows but no-one says it.

Did you mention that in your paper?

I proclaimed it to the whole country in the Assembly.

You're a better orator than aborter.

You have 3 deaths to your name:

3 backstreet abortions.

Any proof?

I'll find it.

You'll have a long search.

They seek to besmirch me, destroy me.

It's the jealousy of the failed, as usual!

Legal abortions would have reduced the profits

of your clandestine curettage.

You're a merry old paranoiac.

You hide behind your integrity, your parliamentary immunity

to confuse your bank account with the national interest.

What are you saying? I'm the best surgeon in town!

I don't need politics to bring me wealth.

I'm motivated by concern for the common good

and love of my country.

If you believe that, you're a fool. A danger to the public.

Your picture will soon be splashed over Le Cosmopolit.

I certainly hope so...

May I pinch him from you for a second?

My dear Raymond, let me give you some advice.

Beware of Dolannes, that journalist.

He and Avril had an affair.

An affair that never really ended.

Believe me, it's on the verge of bursting back into flames.

Champagne?

Scotch...

I believe in nothing! I've gone back

to good old nationalistic values:

capitalism, militarism and imperialism!

Sausage and red wine!

So I say: Long live Mao! Long live Giscard!

Long live the Army!

Hey guys...

a car's pulled up. It's Mick!

I don't wear pyjama jackets.

Stop looking at me. Stop being here!

I don't love you, you're ugly. You don't turn me on.

Did you dance with Avril?

My dick was this big.

I suppose that's all it takes.

My poor dear.

Let's not argue. I apologise.

But go home. Tomorrow we have work to do.

I spoke to Carlille. He knows.

Who could have told him?

Thomas.

He knows all the scandals I had to hush up.

'Bye...

You're throwing me out? At this hour?

There's only one bed. Turn the light off on your way out.

'Bye...

My God!

Take your rumpsteaks elsewhere, you trollop!

I came to tell you Raymond and I have split up.

On your honeymoon?

Can I talk to you... alone?

She's sad.

Your husband's no monster.

We had an awful row after the restaurant.

I told him I still loved you.

- Why did you lie? - She didn't. She loves you.

I can't go home, he'll kill me.

You're dying for her to stay.

I'm off... He can only stand me at work.

Stay where you are!

Now leave.

I need you.

We could squeeze her in.

This is the only bed

but it's big.

She's beautiful.

Kiss me here...

On the arse.

If that's what you want...

Is Mr Dolannes here?

He's gone away.

Where's his room?

- Quick, he's got a gun. - I don't care, l'm staying!

Avril!

Dolannes!

Are you there?

Mr Michel Dolannes?

I'm waiting for him.

And who might you be?

My respects, madam.

Doudou!

Put her back in her husband's bed.

I want to stay... I forgot my handbag.

Christ, her handbag!

Where's Avril?

I want my wife. I want my wife!

Raymond...

- To what do I owe the pleasure? - Where's Avril?

What's the matter, old chap?

She loves you!

I'm the laughing stock of this goddam town!

Since I married her, everyone takes the piss out of me!

Good screw, isn't she?

I bet she squeals with you...

It's over between Avril and me! Tell him.

He managed to climb the stairs but he can't get down them.

Stop it, you idiot!

Find him a cab.

Got any money for the fare?

He must have some.

There, everything's back to normal.

They're pathetic. I'm pathetic.

You're the only decent one.

Look what she had in her bag... 5 million.

The next edition...

Return it to her tomorrow.

I didn't mean to humiliate you.

I respect you more than you think.

But with all those nutcases...

It's OK, don't apologise for being hot-blooded.

Good job you didn't have that coffee,

otherwise l'd be dead.

If not for you, Raymond would have found Avril and l

and had a pop at me.

Let's sleep. We have work tomorrow.

You can have my bed.

Goodnight, Mick.

If Carlille did unleash that drunk on you,

it means he'd go to any lengths... murder, even.

Find that witness,

or that bastard will get the better of you.

Hello, Superintendent.

Why so conspiratorial?

You and your paper are a menace.

From now on,

no more meetings at the station and no more phone calls.

My phone may be tapped.

I'll tip you off but I want no trouble... I've got kids.

Your son's a great player. What a striker!

You discovered him when he was a kid.

You should stick to the sports column

instead of all this muckraking.

That's the police's job.

You're gagged. That's why we're having to be so conspiratorial.

Reminds me of my childhood. I grew up in wine country.

It's a change of scene. I get sick of being a cop.

Nobody likes us.

People like it when we arrest crooks.

You get a few stray bullets...

but life is dangerous.

People are so scared of dying, they cease to live.

They moan if you open fire, they moan if you don't.

To think we winemakers were the first to vote radical.

Anticlericals were regarded as reds.

Now the priests are the reds and the police...

What about the police?

My family are 1 00% republican.

Dyed-in-the-wool blue.

When I hear some left-winger call me a fascist, I see red.

So do your pals.

I got touched up. And not by some blue-eyed blonde.

By cops?

Saw my journalist's card and whack!

Risks like that go with the job.

Either wear a helmet or become a nun.

My supplier. Pure Beaujolais. Trust me, l'm a winemaker.

Every year, they churn out 4 times

the official capacity.

Trust me, l'm a winemaker. This isn't Beaujolais from H�rault.

Beaujolais from Algeria, more like!

I think it's ready.

Nectar.

Try it with a bit of goat's cheese.

It's wonderful.

Carlille.

Your next customer?

I need some information about him.

An idiot like you could ruin my career prospects.

He's a man who cuts ice.

Women's insides too.

So I hear.

I'm not against abortion.

A woman can do with her uterus as she sees fit.

Into women's lib now, are we?

They'll have my balls if l'm not careful.

They should ban masturbation, not abortion.

All those French babies going to waste in hand towels.

Can you help me get Carlille?

What are you after?

A nurse named Jeanne Crestier participated in his little scam.

I need her statement.

It's disappeared.

How do you know she'll testify?

I can try to persuade her.

To Le Cosmopolit.

Cheers...

My dear Mr Laurence. Six months ago,

we gave your loan application a very sympathetic hearing.

I don't doubt it.

You sought substantial credit to fund your expansion.

The economic situation is precarious.

The bank rate has risen yet again.

Gold is shooting up.

Even paper has had a sudden price hike.

Do you suffer from high blood pressure?

We are prepared to grant you credit on condition that your health

does not hinder your interest repayments.

As a deputy,

I am anxious to see our region developed

so I have asked our friend to stick his neck out

so that you may expand

and provide employment to our young people.

To reassure you, I shall conduct a thorough examination

on our Mister... Laurence.

But I feel fine!

I have total faith in Dr Carlille.

Do you print this?

We do 200,000 copies.

Investing in you may be profitable.

However...

You also print Le Cosmopolit.

In return for the bank loans I have obtained for you,

I must ask a small favour.

I want you to exercise strict censorship

on articles written by this...

Dolannes.

He confuses freedom of expression with a liking for scandal.

I'm not in the habit of censoring the papers I print!

- In that case... - l'll take my business elsewhere.

Recognise your typographer, Mr Laurence?

Sit down, Mr Culli.

What's a Communist leader doing in the office of a Protestant banker

in the company of a Catholic deputy?

We regard the Church as political allies...

You mentioned the poor work conditions in your company.

We're crammed in with scant regard for safety regulations.

I pay union rates, I provide a canteen!

- The food's revolting. - Do you expect gourmet meals?

It's like a prison: too much work, no hygiene.

A loan would enable you to sort that out.

Yet you refuse. You're a veritable slave driver.

Does he look like a slave? Any idea how much he earns?

He doesn't boast about his wages

to the North Africans who are building his house!

- You've got a country house... - He's got a ch�teau!

Stop moaning. Do as I did. Start your own company!

I started out with nothing. Don't wait for the revolution.

- Don't mention revolutions here. - l've fought for my business!

I put my ideas to work, I took the risks!

Now I have to pay princely salaries

and exorbitant interest rates!

What's this inquisition all about?

Why are you taking their side against me?

I'm through here...

Just shut up and do as I tell you.

- Blackmail! - Blackmail? Tell me all about it.

Do as they ask.

Excuse me.

Look, tomorrow I tell the press everything.

I'll tell Dolannes, Le Cosmopolit...

Everything your communist chums have been hiding.

Your supporters will not be pleased.

Nor will the Socialist Party or the left-wing Union.

Screw the Left!

Meaning?

Either you forbid Dolannes to publish anything about me

or I reveal all about his band of reds.

Carlille, the communist party... It'll help launch Le Cosmopolit.

You'll lose your printworks, idiot.

If I instruct my colleagues to refuse you...

Your business will fold. And your party has had it, comrade.

Do as they say or l'll call a strike at the printworks.

You're in breach of the safety laws.

I can't do everything at once:

keep people in work AND meet government recommendations.

Up till now, they've left you alone.

But what if l, a deputy for the majority party,

were to persuade the authorities to look into it?

His printworks could be closed.

Agree to their terms. Censor Dolannes.

Never, you hear!

- What about your son? - lt'll ruin him too.

You're all he has.

Then there's the unions, strikes...

Come on... we've got you.

OK, you win.

I'll release the funds.

Now you can improve our work conditions.

Don't look so upset.

One little skirmish doesn't have to mean all-out war.

We'd never make money if it did.

We must have lunch together sometime.

With Mr Culli, I hope. He hates the canteen.

Comrade Culli!

Comrade Culli.

- Scotch? - Pastis?

You bastards...

Even you undertakers are on the make.

The cost of transporting a stiff

from Dunkirk to Marseilles...

Stiffs are as profitable as frozen beef!

What are those?

A few nice adverts.

India... 1 5B. Charter trips at 6000 francs.

Famine, nice hotels...

For middle-class folk in need of spirituality and weight loss.

The advertiser won't like it.

Next!

Atlantique Tourism is offering special rates:

snow galore, skiing...

Mira... 78.

We'll highlight the pleasures of snow.

A Siberian gulag?

Isn't there snow in Siberia?

Quote Breshnev's immortal line:

''Opposition hinders the forging of affectionate links

''between government and people.''

You'll be despised right across the political spectrum.

It's my paper, l'll do as I please. I want adverts I like.

You're making trouble for yourself.

Bulletproof vests are available at any good pharmacy.

Le Cosmopolit: the truth and nothing but the truth!

It's for you.

Who was it?

The Advertisers' Association has cancelled all adverts.

Cancelled!

They gave no explanation.

No adverts, no money - no paper.

This is Carlille's doing!

I'm off, I don't want to lose my job.

Mr Dolannes? The French Wine Cask here.

The lady in possession of the cask

is at 1 1 all�e des Mara�chers.

Thank you.

Not at all, Mr Dolannes.

- What was all that gobbledygook? - lt's Bude.

The cask lady is Jeanne Crestier,

Carlille's former nurse, my witness.

This is getting scary...

How's the advertising going?

Pleased with Eckmann?

He just left.

I like you, but you're in deep water.

I'd like to check whatever you're having me print.

- Shouldn't be hard. - lt's only natural.

Before I print, I need to know.

What?

To a journalist like me, freedom of expression is sacrosanct.

I'd like to see Miss Jeanne Crestier.

She's on duty in the nursery. This way...

Imagine, some of these lovely kids will become crooks.

Jeanne, a gentleman to see you. Mister...

Dolannes, journalist.

May I speak in front of...

Of course.

Did you perform abortions with Carlille?

What is all this?

Dr Carlille procured a grant for us. He supports independent schools.

He has 3 deaths to his name.

Right, Jeanne?

Dr Carlille is a great guy, sister.

He does a quick job and sends the girls home

without any monitoring or follow-up care.

Infection spreads...

The high-society families hush up the affairs.

Sadly, corpses don't talk.

She's the only one who can get Carlille.

- How much for your testimony? - I have nothing to say.

1,000? 2,000? 3,000?

I've nothing to say.

You're afraid. Has he threatened you?

Make her talk, sister.

Take the money, for your saints, your kids... for God.

Well, Jeanne?

There are unexplained disappearances every year.

You're scared of finding yourself

in the woods, drenched in petrol.

- Shut up! - l'll fetch Mother Superior.

Leave the poor old girl alone.

You've been threatened, I can tell.

Go away!

He'll kill you, you're too dangerous.

He wouldn't dare!

Then he has threatened you!

Tell us what you know, Jeanne.

You must help us get Carlille.

- What do I have to say? - Everything.

He may have me killed.

Once my article's been published, he won't dare.

Do a quick draft of your testimony.

Sister...

You're adorable. What do you say you and I make one like that?

There's the customer... Stop jerking off.

I jerk off whenever I can.

He's writing to his girlfriend!

Help!

What happened?

Carlille... I got the nurse's testimony.

Where is it?

I posted it to Bude.

If anything happens to me, he'll know what to do.

Now l'll write my article.

Stay here. I'll look after you.

Looks like Carlille has blackmailed Laurence.

The paper's out tomorrow. I've only got till midnight.

I should have doped you.

Still typesetting, Mr Dolannes? What happened?

Car crash.

Take this to the press for me.

It's gone to press.

It'll be on the newsstands when they open.

Yes, thanks...

An emergency? A serious case?

Very.

I only hope I can sleep beside you tomorrow night, Maude.

What's going on, Claude?

It's Dolannes.

- An article about you? - He's crafty.

A wolf. He duped the printer, the typographer... everyone.

- Can't I help? - Not this time.

I should have listened to you before venturing into politics.

I'm not criticising you

but you've lost respect for life.

But I do respect life!

Those hypocrites, snivelling about respect for women and love!

Do they believe in love, with their contraceptives?

- Corpses screwing each other! - At least respect the voters.

I refuse to discuss surgery

with a panel of hairdressers, cheese vendors and gamekeepers!

I'll fight to the bitter end, just as I always have.

I love you, Maude.

What will you do?

Send in the mercenaries. Unplug the phone.

Look at what Le Cosmo has unearthed this week!

Not for your eyes... Give me all your copies of Le Cosmopolit.

Quick... I want the change.

We like to read!

None there either. It's a clean sweep.

I'll let them have a second edition.

- The printer won't do it. - Culli's a pal.

Plus he's secretary of the literary association.

Laurence will call the cops.

We need Bude. Go and find him.

Ask him for 20 or so heavies...

You'll wear out your son if you keep staring at him.

He's some lad.

- There's a lady to see you. - I can't, I have to go.

- She says it's urgent. - Take a statement.

She wants to see you personally.

OK, l'll see her in 3 minutes.

Audio surveillance for Superintendent Bude...

Mademoiselle...

- You wanted me? - I was sent by Michel Dol...

So, you know that old war horse Gonzales.

Where did you meet him? Make something up!

- Hi, Raf. - Hi, cop!

You know, l've always admired your superior intelligence.

There's something up here.

I'm a cop but when it comes to fighting,

I'm a bit of an amateur.

Being handy in a scrap isn't compulsory for superintendents.

I've always admired guys who earn a living thumping people.

You see all those imbeciles going around doing maths...

doing physics, making atom bombs...

But with you, you know what you're dealing with.

You're a real H-bomb. H for human.

It's true, I am human.

Now you can put your humanity to work for freedom.

Freedom?

Freedom of expression.

Never heard of it.

We need some people to keep order.

Big shot in town?

A stand.

- Bandstand? - Newsstand.

Why not use cops?

That's their job, isn't it?

Don't start thinking, that's cheating... Drink up.

Drink for the little fella.

A little one for the little fella.

We need twenty or so of your boy scouts.

For him. He's a good guy.

I hear you need a score of tough guys.

Two guys at each newsstand.

Take your pick. These are the best.

- Remember them? - The days of real heroes, eh?

Remember me?

Yeah, I locked you up.

- And you... still a gorilla? - Right, Superintendent.

Impeccable credentials.

Remember when I took out Sing-Sing in Chicago?

We go back a long way.

- Your rates? - 5,000 per person, per day.

You didn't tell me the husband was a black-belt in karate!

I'll give another clobbering, you oaf!

One day soon, l'll beat your brains to a pulp!

Get out!

- lt's a deal. We start at 3. - We'll be at the newsstands.

- What's that? - A sacred relic.

A piece of Carpentier's shorts from the fight he lost to Dempsey.

What about cash?

I have a goldmine...

Lemon? Milk?

Put your own sugar in.

Use the tongs.

You're a sweet boy.

I like men such as you.

It's good. A man should fight.

I don't like fisticuffs. It's a job for professionals.

- I enjoy the occasional bout. - Boxers...

are always recruited from poor backgrounds, never rich.

Had you noticed?

I'd never considered it.

Whilst doctors struggle to save lives,

we pay men to hit each other.

I thought about what you said...

the other day at your place.

A moment of madness.

I've never done a thing.

I can't do anything. Anything at all.

Receive guests, serve tea,

chat...

I am totally useless.

I may as well just keep my money.

I'd rather be wealthy and useless than in a mess.

That makes sense.

I have no profession, no talent.

All I can do whilst waiting for senility to set in

is treat myself to some...

to a...

Did you burn yourself?

Feeling better?

They're all after me.

I have to get my 2nd edition out.

How much do you want?

Five... Six.

I'll pay you back.

I disgust you.

No, I disgust myself.

We both defend ourselves the best we can.

This afternoon is the beginning of the end for me.

It's the first time l've ever paid...

Hey Culli! I have the money for the 2nd edition.

Sorry, we'll have to wait for the boss to get back.

- Can't do anything without him. - You're a union man!

A militant communist, assisting the class enemy.

My job's on the line.

You're hiding something.

OK guys, take a break.

I'll take my plates elsewhere.

No way, they're ours.

- l've paid for them. - Forget it.

Destroy them.

No! I used to work with Mick.

I'm in charge here.

Screw you, l'm no commie, I do as I please.

Take your gear, Dolannes.

You have our backing on union matters but that's all.

He's put it back in.

OK, thanks.

Is that the Printers' Union?

This is Dr Carlille. Get me the Chairman, quick.

Vanisterbeck Printers. ''No job refused.'' We could try.

They print visiting cards, not newspapers.

- Hey, wait your turn! - I need a piss!

Carlille must have instructed all the printers.

Shalom Mira!

Michel, Jo... Natha�l Grissom.

Excuse my appearance.

Working with you gives me an appetite.

You want a raise?

Mr Grissom...

Your machines...

Are they still working?

Come in... any friend of Mira's is a friend of mine.

Just think, Mira... I built all this with my own hands.

Mr Grissom...

why did you close down your printworks?

Offset printing killed me. Upgrading was too expensive.

These machines look fine.

Yeah, perfect.

They'll do just fine.

Now I live here.

Don't you live with your children?

How about re-opening your printworks?

My daughter isn't nasty as such. Nor is my son-in-law

but having them here at mealtimes pisses me off.

My grandson's the worst.

Does nothing at school. The teachers are all arseholes.

During the Spanish Civil War,

I was in the lnternational Brigade.

There were workers, peasants, young and old...

They died fighting for the right to learn to read!

We had kids fighting with us.

I saw one of them

get a bullet in the head.

So when I see my bourgeois grandson,

fat as a pig, cocking a snook at school, I just get...

Which is exactly why you should help us.

I stick my neck out for no-one. Screw them!

Let me explain...

Screw them, I said!

Nata�l...

It works!

Like in 1 937,

Iike in 1 968.

Hurry, hurry... Limited edition...

I'm gonna screw that bitch!

Read all about it in Le Cosmopolit!

How much do you charge?

Hello, Bob!

Remember our Palladium fight?

And Mexico!

I'm getting 5,000 to take these papers.

I'm getting 5,000 to protect them!

Forgotten your old friends?

So how's chicken shit?

Read all about it in Le Cosmopolit!

Read all about it, R�publique Derni�re!

R�publique Derni�re! Sudden death of Dr Carlille!

''Revolver in hand.''

They didn't even dare report that the crook topped himself.

Morally, you killed him.

Physically, he went for me first.

- I fired first. - lt's the law of the jungle.

I didn't vote for any law of the jungle.

It won't stop here.

Go home and get some sleep.

I'll take a taxi.

Be careful, Mick.

I'll sleep at the printworks, no-one knows l'm there.

- Word travels fast. - See you tomorrow.

Now that we're alone, I want to ask you something.

All these scandals you're revealing...

Ever thought about cashing in?

Where would I put the money? There are no pockets in a shroud.

Who could that be? No-one knows we're here.

Bude or Jo. Maybe they're in trouble.

Don't answer!

Thomas has called at least 1 0 times.

What does he want?

He needs to see you urgently.

Wonder what he wants? I'm wary.

- l'll come with you. - No, stay here.

I want you to be armed.

He's a danger to the public.

The people ought to know the truth.

When journalists start revealing all,

it causes anarchy.

Here come our first customers.

I'm sick of digging around in trash.

Come on, round up all these microbe cultures.

There's enough pox to infect the nation.

It'll cripple Social Security.

Mr Blesch...

You turn up in whorehouses of every type.

Upmarket ones, bottom of the range ones...

- You're being tiresome. - What about you?

I demand to be released!

- Lock him up. - You'll pay for this!

Stop busting my balls...

What a night, guys!

I can't even get laid nowadays!

Superintendent Bude seems increasingly uncooperative.

This can't go on, Ferdinand.

You didn't marry our sister just to twiddle your thumbs.

I'm discrediting myself at the Justice Ministry

by bailing you out of brothels.

We're going to send you away for while.

I'll hitch-hike back.

Idiot! The superintendent calls Gonzagues almost every night.

After l've been making love. I sleep after lovemaking.

A liking for brothels is one thing.

It's only human. But why not use call girls?

Too cold. Like a business meeting.

Not like a steamy whorehouse!

We must not hobnob with our staff.

It smacks of currying favour.

Bosses should command respect, like politicians.

They should be austere, dignified... Stripped bare.

Totally bare?

I've tried doctors, psychiatrists...

Life dealt me a cruel hand in my brother.

- So I can't screw? - Of course!

Everyone screws.

Even magistrates.

With dignity,

with equality.

Ferdinand, we must screw with honour!

My dear Dolannes...

This is a rather unusual meeting.

My colleagues are anxious to speak to you.

In friendly tones, l'm sure.

My dear Dolannes, we appreciate your honesty.

Let's speak frankly. Le Cosmopolit pisses us all off.

About time too.

You know we're all dying to do the same as you.

You dig up the most squalid stories.

A deputy or President of the Republic

cannot have skeletons in the closet.

You're turning an electoral campaign into an outpouring of filth.

How can you trust a man who's been

selling out all his life?

We can't keep causing a stir by exposing compromised principles.

As you know, our colleagues are held back by finances.

And you by the Communist Party!

You were a collaborator, Thomas! Decorated by Vichy.

You pledged allegiance to P�tain!

I resisted, I was in the maquis!

Hunting rabbits!

Your writing is so boring, you're losing your readership.

Quiet! You've all been selling out. Even you, Siviac.

You backed the sending of conscripts to Algeria. I was there!

Carlille's abortions were his own business.

Please, let's stop talking about the past.

How would you like a job on my paper as editor in chief?

I'd never take a colleague's job.

How much do you want to stop printing Le Cosmopolit?

I'm not for sale!

You won't hold out, Mick.

He's right. You have neither political nor financial backing.

You'll be regarded as a public enemy,

a target for everyone.

What have I got to lose? My solitude?

You're always alone in my line of work...

Well, Mick... how about a hooker?

I'm used to women paying me.

- Pleased? - Not displeased.

Finding your witness was my good deed.

Thanks. I'll return the favour.

Le Cosmopolit is more like a machine gun than a newspaper.

We'll have to get tooled up with you around!

Someone's been asking for you. The guy in the corner...

I hear you're looking for me.

I figured you'd be in here, celebrating victory with your pals.

Pals, not two-faced bastards like you.

Leave it out.

I did it because I had no choice.

- l'm being blackmailed. - What!

Come outside... I'll explain.

Here, Marcel...

The Party's being blackmailed.

What!

I'm not kidding. I can't figure it out.

Did you come by car?

Let's get off the streets.

- Are you scared? - l'm scared of everyone.

Those 2 guys...

Were they in the bar?

- You're being followed. - Or you are.

Maybe we both are.

- You imagined it. - Not my style...

Anyway, if they want to find us, they will.

Look, here's what happened.

Six months ago, I had a visit from a communist colleague.

His 1 4-year-old son was sleeping with Minecci.

Minecci, the Mayor?

He'd met the kid

at a Christmas party.

My pal wanted to press charges

but Minecci is a Socialist Party bigwig at national level.

The Right would love it.

Minecci screwing a militant's son would cause a huge scandal.

My pal wanted to go to the police.

I suggested alerting Communist Party HQ.

Did they inform the policy-making committee?

I think so. After that, I heard nothing.

Then my pal was found dead in a shunting yard.

Murdered?

The verdict was accidental death.

The Left wanted to hush up the incident.

Doesn't mean the Party ordered his murder.

Then who? Minecci himself?

Good evening, dear.

My wife... Michel Dolannes.

- l've packed our bags. - So I hear.

Madam Minecci...

Anne-Marie and l were childhood friends.

Her father taught me. She and I were Young Socialists.

We remained friends after I joined the Communists.

Coffee?

I'll take a glass of Beaujolais.

When we helped get her husband elected,

I was really pleased, but now...

- Did you know your husband liked... - Boys?

I knew but I never dared ask him about it.

She often discussed it with me.

If I publish this story, his career...

When he was elected mayor, I thought we'd do great things.

We'd always been activists,

our only income was our teachers' salaries.

Not exactly a fortune.

He bought a house, then another, then another.

You wondered how he funded it.

I don't believe in Santa. It stank of skulduggery.

With the other side.

But we can't prove it. That's your job.

Your Carlille article made up our minds.

- Your husband's not stupid. - He certainly isn't.

Sure the Communists aren't in on it?

Of course l'm sure.

Lots of people have a vested interest in him keeping his job.

I'll find out if Minecci has business partners. If he does...

The Party isn't mixed up in murder.

- And your husband? - I hate him.

You're all acting like hams!

Do we really act like hams?

No, you're very talented. Isn't he, David?

The best recruit you've bought me.

It's good of you to have come after such a tragedy.

Carlille was a dear friend.

So intelligent, so cultivated...

Dolannes is a danger to the people. A public enemy!

To think I financed his first issue.

You always were a patron of the arts.

The upshot is, you're now a deputy.

As Carlille's right-hand man,

I never dreamt l'd replace him under such tragic circumstances.

What a scandal... Suicide.

The Left will exploit it, with the exception of Minecci.

He's here.

He'll give us all the discretion we could wish for.

Your joint business interests...

They're proving to be useful.

That industrial estate has been most profitable,

for him as well as for us.

It's going swimmingly!

It's hard to fill the shoes of a still-warm corpse.

I could have done without all this.

Still, the country's interests come first.

I can sense your distress. Carlille was...

- A great friend. - Are you coming?

I'm sure your left-wing friends won't cash in on this scandal.

Our good business relations must be maintained, Mr Mayor.

I invited Bernard along to our meeting.

Good. We're all Carlille's friends.

That idiot has dropped us in it!

Did he need to practice abortion?

Maybe he wanted to be of service.

He certainly managed that.

My friend Minecci will try to curb the indignation of his friends.

You must do likewise.

- l'll try. - You must!

The Centre may not count for much but you can never be too careful.

First my brother, now Carlille... your articles are murderous.

Do you bear me a personal grudge?

I see you enjoy excellent relations with Minecci and Bernard.

Politicians are just one big happy family.

We enjoy cordial relations. People here are courteous.

A strange courtesy, given the fact that Minecci supports

the nationalisation of businesses such as your own.

Your dad thinks I have the plague. Better get back to him.

Marry me and he'll really be mad.

I can't marry you, we're friends, we have fun together.

- Still got a thing for Avril? - I don't wallow in the past.

I'm on an important job. No time for women.

Incidentally, isn't your father mixed up with Minecci?

Yes. Why?

Just wondering.

- Are they in business together? - Who knows?

Minecci often visits, but so do a lot of other people.

Naturally.

So when do we get married?

- You're obsessed! - Absolutely.

But I don't want to marry you!

You're so clinging!

Kiss me.

Did you like that?

- Yes but... - Kiss me again.

- Do you love her so much? - Drop it!

- You're suffering. - Yeah, l'm wearing new shoes.

A marriage certificate is easily obtained.

It just needs a stamp from the Mayor.

- Minecci. - He's a friend.

- Of your father's. - Hence of mine too.

Scoring with her too?

Would you rather it were your wife?

- Where's Avril? - With the electricity man.

Time we left...

I wish it would stop raining.

I love the rain.

And I love you.

Well, I don't love you.

You could have me every night.

And have you under my feet every day.

I want you to be my husband.

Tell your family that.

I'm beautiful, you have charm.

Tell your father that.

- You're bright... - That's just a rumour.

I'm stupid.

You're being modest.

- You can think for me. - Shouldn't be too hard.

And I could fund your newspaper...

You don't know the bourgeoisie.

- My dad was in fuel. - He owned a power station?

No, he was a coal man. Door-to-door deliveries.

Must have been hard.

It's thirsty work.

Tights are like chastity belts.

Such a nuisance in a car.

I bet suspender belts were easier.

I don't know, I didn't have a car when I was young.

If a bourgeois girl screws in a car, she's crazy.

If she's a left-wing intellectual, she's liberated.

If she's a factory girl, she's a whore.

If she's a peasant, she's game.

So where's the truth?

Here...

So, will you marry me?

The Mayor... Please rise, ladies and gentlemen.

Dolannes! This must be a joke.

Is marriage a joke?

Liliane, what will your father say?

The papers are in order. Banns don't have to be published.

No point in calling Blesch.

If you do, I may call somebody else.

The railway ghost, taken away by a special carriage.

Any witnesses?

I've found two. They're waiting.

You shouldn't get mixed up in things that don't concern you.

Go ahead.

Michel Fr�d�ric Dolannes, journalist, resident of Ermeil,

son of French national Fr�d�ric Dolannes

and Emilie Lodan.

- If Dolannes discloses... - Why all the panic?

You're innocent.

What about the communist's son?

Still burping?

Of course, you left-wingers don't associate with angels.

The serious, tragic aspect is not the child...

I hear you placed him in an excellent institution

- an orphanage - after his father's death

- in a shunting yard. - Dolannes's trying to pin it on me.

That's a monstrous suggestion.

You can't blame this heinous crime on the Right and the Centre!

- He's joking, Bernard. - Shut up, idiot!

Minecci's right. If Dolannes - my son-in-law...

If he gets Minecci fired, there'll be some fallout.

It's sensitive for all of us.

We'll lose a co-operative mayor.

Of course. Very receptive. But you have nothing to fear.

- You're totally innocent. - Maybe your communist chums

pushed him under that train.

Very good, big man. You have a lively mind.

That's slander! Bernard, you're a witness.

To what? I was just an intermediary

between yourself and Blesch for the industrial estate site.

There's no evidence of crime. The verdict was accidental death.

You appear to believe it. You're obsessed by it.

You believe it too.

Supposing a murder was committed.

There were no witnesses.

The perpetrator of this awful crime - assuming there was one -

can sleep soundly at night. Which is what we all want...

We communists want to know exactly what happened.

We're entitled to the truth, as are our socialist comrades.

You know what happened.

Your party concealed your deviations.

Then l'm a sexual deviationist?

We're not in the habit of implicating ourselves in vice.

Our alliance with you was sealed before we realised what you were.

It's in your interests too that your comrade doesn't talk.

You accuse us of murder?

Who mentioned murder? You did!

We don't want any controversy. Let's try to find what unites us.

Not what divides us.

A crime in a shunting yard would surely have had a witness.

There can't be a witness to something that didn't happen.

Quod erat demonstrandum... right comrade?

So it seems...

Before you go, may I ask you a question?

Anything you like.

Have you any idea why I just married you?

Because you loved me without realising it.

Well, now I realise.

To you, l'm a stupid bourgeois girl. We're easy to despise.

But since l've loved you, l've never slept with another man.

It's nostalgia for our virgin grandmas.

It makes the Pill redundant.

When do we hit the conjugal bed?

Maybe on my death bed.

Meaning?

Meaning l'm a journalist who's annoying a lot of people.

You seem edgy.

People are getting interested in me.

The phone's not safe.

I thought as much when you said to meet here... Any news?

I have proof that Minecci has got something going

but it doesn't prove he's behind your pal's murder.

Neither him nor anyone else. There's no evidence of murder.

- It was murder. - You're making assumptions.

Are you hiding something?

I can't tell you. Just trust me.

I've got no choice.

Drop by later. Loulou will tell you where I am.

Then l'll prove it...

My dear Thomas,

I'm in a bit of a spot. I'm going to need your friendship.

- You have it. - Thanks, that's kind.

My brother's a dead loss but I love him.

Naturally, I love my daughter but... You have no idea!

What's wrong? What is it?

She's done something.

- Another indiscretion? - She married Dolannes.

- No! - l'm Dolannes's father-in-law.

No!

He'll stop at nothing. He's a terrible man.

I need your help.

He's trying to pin a rail worker's murder on me.

The one in the shunting yard?

You know about it?

I'm a journalist, l've heard rumours.

Of course. But mum's the word.

What if Dolannes reports it in Le Cosmopolit?

Just deny it!

I don't want to appear like some out-of-touch fool.

Just remember you owe your career to me.

You backed me so l'd be your flunkey!

Please... think of our friendship.

You and I have never been friends.

Our relationship has been strictly rich man/poor man.

In that case, you no longer work for the newspaper.

You bastard!

- Bad news? - No, good news.

- A colleague of ours has married. - Who?

There's a press blackout. It's Dolannes.

- Who's the girl? - That bastard Dolannes.

I hush up information, I don't know my job,

I'm the bourgeoisie's flunkey...

Listen, everyone. Bosses are arseholes.

Dolannes has married Blesch's daughter.

We're going to re-do the front page in big, bold letters.

Maybe you could phone the Union.

See if there's any room for me

in the fillers section...

The guys are blowing the lid off!

Are you OK?

The cops are onto the printworks but l'm onto a scoop.

How about a kiss for starters?

You're the most admirable woman l've ever met.

Bastard! You sonofabitch!

Marrying a rich girl dripping gold

while l'm here like a stupid bitch sweating blood for your rag!

I never asked for your help!

You disgust me. I'm getting out of here!

Then get out! I'm sick of your sentiments, your love!

Get out!

Why did you have to marry that girl?

I'm a public enemy, l'm being hunted.

That girl's my shield, my hostage.

Then you're hiding behind women?

Does she love you?

Know where her money comes from? Distilleries.

She owes her fortune to millions of alcoholics.

I didn't realise.

You didn't realise...

My wife's a vampire in a bottle of hooch.

Then why did you marry her?

They're unscrupulous, so I was unscrupulous too.

Last night,

you and Jo accused me of murder after Carlille's suicide.

So I went to see some friends.

I saw Liliane at the theatre, she proposed to me.

I married her, I was dead on my feet.

You were tired so you got married!

Well, yes. And because it serves a purpose.

But there are more urgent matters. Culli wants to see me.

You're not seeing that bastard?

He's waiting for me in Passage du Progr�s.

You're coming with me.

Marriage has made you chivalrous.

To the faithful husband, all women are desirable...

Look, that's where l'm headed. The pipe shop.

If I don't come out, alert Bude.

I'll make you my sole legatee.

Betty...

Michel Dolannes.

This may seem a weird place but we're safe here.

No-one will bother you.

Thanks, Claudie.

My wife and kids are at my parents'.

I can't go home with this going on.

Nor can l.

Now everything depends on her.

When my friend went under that train,

I made a few inquiries. The workers didn't know anything.

I noticed a building overlooking the track.

I interrogated the tenants and found Betty, who saw him.

- What was the murderer like? - I didn't see his face.

That clarifies things.

We know it was murder.

If you report it, the police will have to launch an inquiry.

It won't do any good, she didn't see his face.

Whoever wanted him dead didn't know there was a witness.

- And if they find out... - They'll want to kill me.

It's the only sure way to unmask them.

It's too risky for her.

I don't trust him.

- He's a journalist. - Thanks. We get good press.

I can't... Promise to stay with me.

I'll stay with you. Go ahead, Mick.

I'll spread the word.

In a few hours, everyone will know where Betty is.

Make sure you're not followed...

At some point, Culli will come out. Tail him.

If anything turns up, call me.

- Where are you going? - To screw my wife.

You married my daughter, as you publish your articles, in secret.

Yours is a shadowy existence.

- I want this marriage annulled. - Does Liliane agree?

If she doesn't apply for a divorce, l'll do it for her.

A prosecutor has more credibility than some lousy journalist.

Your friends prevent me from publishing openly.

My friends?

All the town's politicians are ranged against me.

We're not Communists.

They're afraid of the Minecci affair too.

In protecting a corrupt pederast, you're all murder accomplices!

You say l'm a killer?

Not you directly

but those who share the profits and the power.

Which murder is this?

The railway worker.

I don't know any railway workers

although I do travel by rail.

The one who was pushed under a train in a shunting yard.

There's a witness.

- A witness? - Who was too scared to speak out.

But who has spoken to me about it.

Then it's a crime dressed up as an accident.

I knew nothing of this.

If what you say is true, you're right to expose it.

Such abominable things cannot go unpunished.

So this has something to do... with Minecci and the Communists.

Or others.

Maybe a man of influence such as myself can help you.

I believe it's my duty.

You want R�publique Derni�re to print it?

I wouldn't steal your exclusive.

I've heard so many bad things about you.

And I disliked intensely the way you married my daughter.

But I believe you to be honest.

Thanks, you're too kind.

Honesty and sense of duty are things I appreciate in a man.

Liliane, come here, dear.

I love my daughter so much.

I can't help indulging her whims. Even marriage.

Especially when it's to a man

such as Michel Dolannes, who l'm just getting to know.

My dear, I had a flash of anger earlier.

You youngsters have a way of rushing into things.

Dolannes, you old rascal!

How would R�publique Derni�re suit him?

How would he like that? Would you?

I have Le Cosmopolit.

R�publique Derni�re has a print run of 50,000 copies.

- What about Thomas? - He's in a rut.

No, we need something new, something that's in on the action.

Now run along, kids.

I'll see you later...

A witness!

Good Lord!

Where?

Let me go now, I have something very important...

Go then, naughty boy!

You're staying with me.

Give them back, a woman is in danger!

Give me back those keys!

Newspaper business, I suppose.

- Give me those keys. - Take your keys!

It wouldn't be your secretary, that little Jewish redhead?

If she gets killed, it'll be your fault...

- Madam Rosier? - That's me.

You work at P&T? I'm from the co-op.

I'm selling vacuum cleaners. Here's the latest model...

Get a move on.

Come on, quick!

Shall we leave him?

Let's call the police.

No point. We'll get Michel to identify that guy.

You're not from the Communist Party...

Communist Party?

So what was that guy doing at Betty's?

Was anyone else at Betty's?

- So where's Betty? - Never you mind.

What have you done with her!

Stop, you sonofabitch!

She won't talk.

Come on, don't be afraid.

We aren't going to hurt you.

- Do we look as if we would? - I don't know. I don't know you.

You're going to get to know us.

Let me ask you once again...

What exactly did you see?

A man.

And did he push a railway worker under a train?

Sure you got a good look at him?

Come, my dear, maybe you have blurred vision.

Ferdinand, leave the lady alone. Sit down!

Madam, would you recognise him?

-Warehouse F, Platform 3. - l'm on my way.

Jo, launch the special edition!

I'll get it moving.

Telephone me the feature article. And be careful!

Who, apart from Dolannes, knows about all this?

How did you meet Dolannes?

Let's do a bit of cooking.

Quick, she's in there.

- Ferdinand... - Only trying to frighten her.

Nice thighs...

Ferdinand's talented.

He's full of mischief. Always has been.

- Who knows? - Madam Minecci.

My wife!

Who else?

Culli, a militant Communist.

Who else?

That's all.

That's quite a few.

It's your job to keep your wife quiet.

In future, curb your sexual excesses.

He's an arsehole!

I'm the Mayor around here. You need me.

What about Dolannes?

He's my son-in-law... I'll handle him.

Stop that siren, for God's sake!

She's married.

I'll alert her husband.

Not the police. I have to write my article first.

I'll head back. You stay here. Keep me informed about Betty.

Are you going to print it?

I'm scared.

I armoured the van this afternoon.

Newspapers have to be distributed as well as printed.

The cops will be taking a pop at us.

This'll let them know who they're dealing with.

Don't panic, l'll do the deliveries. Jo, take the wheel.

But I can't drive.

Liar!

That thing's a death trap!

Then l'll go, should l?

Freedom or death!

La libertad o la muerte!

Yes, l've read it.

I'm reading it.

I hope you don't believe any of it.

Pure fabrication from a megalomaniac journalist.

My dear brother-in-law, you're one of us.

Until further notice.

But you love my sister. She's your wife.

- What are you going to do? - We'll see...

- He's abandoning us. - After all we've done for him!

- Shut up! - You mean the bastard's straight?

Obviously he's straight!

What the hell are you doing here at this hour?

- lt's almost dawn. - l'm writing to my lawyer.

- Why? - For a divorce.

There are more important matters. Bad news.

- Have you seen Betty? - Yes. The doctors are worried.

She'll be fine. My article depends on her.

You can't make accusations of murder

using a witness who's clinging to life.

If I were you...

You? You're a civil servant.

Leave the guy alone. Lie low.

- l'm staying put. - Don't be stupid.

If Betty gets well, you'll be fine.

I'll take you.

Where?

A little fishing lodge in the country.

You'd be risking your career. You have kids.

Being a coward would set them a bad example.

Why shouldn't a cop get to play

at being a journalist now and again?

It's Mira! How's Betty?

Her condition's stable. Are you thinking of me?

No, l'm thinking of my divorce.

You're not married, are you?

I'm no fool.

We work together a lot.

Too much.

It'd make things easier if we were married.

You're losing your marbles.

Oh well, suit yourself.

If this is private...

Be right with you.

I'll wait for you in my car.

Get a move on.

What did you say?

Nothing.

You're lousy!

Stop blubbering. I love you!

Mick... you sonofabitch!

Coffee grounds.

That Mira's a strange one with her fate...