Cluny Brown

Ye... No, no, no, my dear chap. Sink.

Sink. S-l-N-K. Sink.

No, no, no, not stink.

Yes, well, now that you mention it, it does.

Stink.

Look here, what I'm trying to tell you is

it won't drain.

Yes, that's it, and I've got 50 people

popping over for cocktails.

Huh, have you ever tried to get hold of

a plumber in London on a Sunday afternoon?

I've called dozens of them and the blighters

are either at the films or walking in the park.

Hang it all! If plumbing's going to

make a go of it in this country,

the plumbers jolly well better get into

the spirit of the thing!

Well, there's just the ghost of a chance.

One chap half promised to be over, but that's

more than an hour ago, so there you are.

But look here, I can't just call up 50 guests.

I can't call up such people as

the Honourable Betty Cream

and tell her my sink's out of order.

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

Just a moment. Congratulate me, old man.

Here's the plumber now.

So long.

Come in, come in. Oh, excuse me.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

Hello? Yes.

Yes. He just came this moment. Goodbye.

Never been so happy to see anybody

in my life. Right this way.

Rotten of me to spoil your Sunday,

but it's sink or swim, you know.

Wait till you see the mess.

"Relieve the drain, relieve the strain."

Bit of a poet, eh?

(LAUGHING)

Well, there it is. Frightful stench, isn't it?

Just too awful for words.

- Yes, but it looks interesting. Very.

- What?

Is there anything more arresting

than a sink out of order?

I beg your pardon?

An everyday, ordinary,

commonplace pantry sink.

And yet, an analogue of human frustration.

Believe me, I know a lot about sinks.

Yes, naturally, I'm sure you do,

but we haven't much time.

You see, I'm giving a party.

- You're expecting your guests any minute?

- Right.

- And you want your sink fixed?

- Right.

- Then what you need is a plumber.

- Right... But I thought that you...

Oh, no, no. Unfortunately, I'm afraid

there has been a misunderstanding.

You see, I came here to see

an old friend of mine, Professor Leigh.

Profe... Professor Leigh? He's in Scotland.

You see, I sublet the flat.

- Now I am in a fix.

- Well, what about me? I'm in a fix, too.

- But what am I going to do? It's 4:30.

- You see, I wanted to see Professor Leigh...

Expecting 50 guests, including such people

as the Honourable Betty Cream

and she doesn't go everywhere, you know.

- You're the most selfish man I've ever seen.

- What?

You don't even know me

and already you're not interested in me.

Why don't you ask me

why I want to see Professor Leigh?

All you're thinking about is

the Honourable Betty Cream.

Why don't you ask me about my landlady?

Is she humane or does she want the rent?

Do you know or do you care? No.

Have you even said,

"A fig for Betty Cream, my dear sir.

- "Is there anything I can do for you?"

- Well, is there?

Oh, thank heaven.

- I misjudged you. My name is Adam Belinski.

- Hilary Ames.

Ah, I'm tired, my dear Ames.

It's too bad Leigh isn't here.

By the way, do you know him?

- Not very well, no.

- Magnificent fellow.

He would have said,

"Is there anything wrong, Belinski?"

And of course, I would have said,

"No, no, nothing."

But he would not have believed me.

He would have insisted on my taking a nap.

Insisted, I assure you.

Ah, he had the most charming way

of forcing 20 pounds on one.

Made you feel you were doing him a favour.

Remarkable fellow.

Obviously. Well, I'm not precisely in the habit

of forcing things on people,

- but if I can be of any service...

- My dear Ames, this is kind of you.

Not at all. Do have a nap.

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

Oh, excuse me, Mr Belinski.

This must be the plumber.

- Good afternoon.

- Good afternoon.

- Well, shall we have a go at it?

- I beg your pardon?

- I'm Uncle Arrs niece. Mr Porritt, that is.

- I'm sorry. There must be some mistake.

Mistake? Arert you...

(SNIFFING) Of course you're Mr Ames.

I could smell you a mile off.

You're the gentleman who phoned.

I have a wild idea that this

has something to do with plumbing.

Oh, you mean Porritt the plumber. Yes,

of course, of course. Come in, won't you?

Well, where is he?

- At the cemetery, clipping Aunt Nelly's grass.

- Pardon?

He never gets through till sunset.

But when you talked about your troubles,

you sounded so stopped up

- that I thought I'd have a fling at it myself.

- But look here, are you a plumber?

Oh, no. But I've been around pipes

and sewers and taps and things

ever since I came to live with Uncle Arn.

And of course, I've watched him work.

He's a good plumber,

but, if you ask me, much too conservative.

- Conservative?

- Though he votes Labour.

But when it comes to pipes,

he takes the long road, fiddles and faddles,

turns a nut, gets a drop here and a drip there,

when one good bang might

turn the trick in a jiffy.

Yes, and might smash the pipe

to smithereens.

But, on the other hand, it mightrt.

And when you're up against time,

you have to chance it.

- Why don't you let me have a whack at it?

- Oh, no, you don't.

My dear Ames, where is the gypsy in you?

Where's your sense of adventure?

Are you the type of man who puts on his pants

before he answers the telephone?

What if the thing does go wrong?

Let's assume the whole place gets flooded

and there is no party.

You save your liquor. Is that bad?

But if this girl succeeds...

Please, sir, do let me.

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