Blame It on the Bellboy

You don't know?

You know there is a contract

out on me.

You know it's to happen tomorrow.

You know it's come from London.

You know all these things.

But not his name.

Tell me the name!

He doesn't know.

We gotta be alert.

Keep your eyes peeled.

Get that little sh*t before he gets me.

Welcome to Flight 122 from London

Heathrow to Venice Marco Polo.

If for any reason the air supply fails...

- Are you not a flyer?

- No.

Read. That's the best thing.

Isn't this important?

Do you think when you're plummeting

into the Alps at 500 mph,

you are actually going

to remember this?

- Buying property?

- Yes.

It's my boss, actually.

I'm just supervising the purchase.

Well, let's hope we get there, then, eh?

[engines roar]

Signorina, telefono!

Hello, Caroline Wright speaking.

Buongiorno, Caroline,

Signore Marco for you.

- Ciao, Carolina.

- Signore Marco.

- Is the work finished?

- They're finishing off now.

Have they managed

to hide everything?

It looks fine, yes. On the surface.

Found any fools yet?

Mr... Orton from England.

He's looking around tomorrow morning.

30 percent if you can get cash

by Wednesday.

- Sorry?

- You heard.

There's 30 percent commission for you.

If I sell this place

by Wednesday for cash,

you'll triple my commission?

The most we could get is 60,000.

Can you do that?

I'm sure I can.

You've screwed people before.

You can do it again.

The English will buy anything!

Yes.

[plane roars past]

That's what it seems to be.

An old fogy's lonely hearts. A Club 58-70.

Good value, mind you. You get

your flights, meal vouchers,

five nights in Venice

at Hotel Gabrielli.

And they throw in a woman.

You've no idea who she is.

A sort of lucky bag.

- And she will be.

- Same again?

Large one, darling.

Yes, marvelous.

It's all done by computers, you know.

Medi-Date, they're called.

Okay. The Metropole.

That's the one. Grazie.

There you are, Signore Horton.

- I hope you enjoy Venice.

- I'm sure I will.

[bell]

[calls back to desk]

Umm...

You stay.

[bellboy mutters]

[very slowly]

I have a reservation here.

Could I have your name?

Orton. Melvyn Orton.

Oh...

Is something wrong?

It's just that we have just welcomed

another gentleman.

Another Mr... Orton.

Oh, that's Horton with an H.

I'm Orton.

Oh, s, s.

No problem, then.

Domandi?

Scusi, sono occupato.

[church bell]

- Signore Orton! Orton!

- Horton.

That's me.

I... envelope you.

I'm sorry?

I... envelope... you.

- Envelope.

- Envelope.

- Thank you very much.

- Thank you very kind.

Miss Right, eh?

[bell]

Good evening.

How can I help you?

I need to deliver this by hand

to Mike Lawton.

What room is he in?

- Michael Horton.

- Mike Lawton, yes.

Just one moment.

[taps keyboard]

[sounding like Mike Lawton]

Michael Horton.

Room 310.

Hello, is this Veni Villas?

S, signore.

Good. Your office was supposed

to send over the details of a property.

It's the Gabrielli. Room 310.

- S! Signore Orton?

- That's right.

They are coming, signore.

Terrific. Thank you very much indeed.

Grazie.

[bell]

I'm supposed to have had an

envelope delivered. It hasn't arrived.

- It's very important.

- S, signore. What name?

Mike Lawton.

- Michael Horton.

- Mike Lawton, yeah.

- Michael Orton?

- Yeah.

Welcome.

Medi-Date.

I like it.

A woman.

Hi, Ruby, it's Melvyn.

Mr. Marshall's office, please.

Melvyn who?

- Melvyn Orton.

- Sorry?

- Orton.

- I'll see if he's free.

- Marshall.

- Sir, it's Melvyn here.

- Melvyn who?

- Orton.

- In Venice.

- Right. What's it like?

It's absolutely beautiful.

It's warm, but not too warm...

The villa, you d*ckhead,

what's the villa like?

I've only just got here,

but I do have some particulars.

For Christ's sake, I've got serious

money to offload in two days.

So stop farting around

with frigging pictures.

Look at the thing. I want news.

Call me when you've got news

and not before.

I warned you, this is your last chance

to do something right, a**hole.

- [dead line]

- Thank you, sir.

[Italian television]

Oh, yeah.

[menacing voices]

Where is Domino? [spits]

Oh! God...

Good Lord.

[turns off television]

[snores]

[clears throat]

- Hello. Mr. Orton?

- I'm looking for Miss Caroline Wright.

Yes, I'm Caroline Wright.

I'll come down.

I hadn't realized

you'd be out on an island.

Yes, that's the only drawback but...

I mean, it is a pleasant drawback.

Having your own boat is the answer.

It's a bit of a dream of mine.

My very own speedboat.

It is... Miss Caroline Wright.

Yes.

- From the agency?

- Yes.

Only I didn't expect you to be quite so...

Young.

Thank you, Mr. Orton, but it doesn't

make me any less capable.

No, I don't doubt that.

- And it's Horton, with an H.

- Oh, sorry.

So, anyway, this is the garden.

And as you can see,

it's a lovely view, isn't it?

Would you prefer to start inside?

Right, Melvyn, this is your last chance.

Get it right.

Bang on time.

Maybe I should say, "Dead on time."

Come on. What are you doing?

Don't go soft.

One, two, three.

Pull.

One...

Two...

Three...

[bell]

Umm... it's not for sale?

You are almost funny.

You know that?

Very nearly funny.

House-buying.

Talk to me once more

about house-buying, you little sh*t,

I'll rip your flabby face off, capisce?

Yes, yes, yes.

If for some strange reason, you want

to keep your face the way she is.

Just tell me.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes