The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp Page #3

- Yes, sir.

Boy.

- A hansom. Growlers barred.

- He knows, sir.

I could have done with a nap myself.

I'm going to the theatre tonight.

- Can't you sleep there?

- lnvited. Two ladies.

- Can I come?

CANDY:
One is the mother.

Your cab, sir.

Ah. The opera singers, eh?

Hm. No wonder

civilians are grumbling about the Army.

Ought to be ashamed of yourselves,

yelling and screaming like some damned...

damned foreigner.

It's a nice state of things.

Officers and men losing their lives

in South Africa,

while young officers are roaring about

public places like drunkards.

Perhaps you are drunk, hm?

- What's this?

- The VC, sir.

- Where did you get it?

- South Africa. Jordaan Siding.

You're Candy. "Sugar" Candy!

Yes, sir.

Good show, Candy.

- Thank you, sir.

- Hopwell, sir.

- Hopwell? Son of Barney Hopwell of the 66th?

- Yes, sir.

- You're very musical.

- No, sir.

- And so are you.

- You mean, Mignon, sir? "l Am Titania"?

- You're what?

- Titania.

We were shut up with her for seven months

near Jordaan Siding.

- I beg your pardon?

- It's an aria, sir.

Mignon. We had a phonograph and broke

every record but that one. We know it by heart.

Well, are you boys going to Piccadilly?

That's where I'm going.

(Old soldier coughs)

- Can I give you a lift?

- No, thank you, sir. We've got a cab.

- St James's Palace.

- Right, sir.

I hope you two boys enjoy your leave.

You've earned it.

Thank you, sir. Mind the door, sir.

Boy!

- Another hansom.

- The old horse thief.

(Horn)

- Have you ever ridden in one?

- Rather. All the way to Epsom.

- Lovely lines, hasn't she?

- Topping.

- A hot potato, sir?

- No, no. We've just come over for a warm.

The same beastly drizzle.

The same fog and soot. Good old London.

Now, listen, Suggie. You remember

that interview you gave The Times?

- You don't mean to say you read it?

- Me? No.

But I have a niece who has a governess

who has a sister.

- Pretty?

- Never laid eyes on her, but she read it.

- Who?

- My niece's governess's sister. In Berlin.

She wrote to her sister over here who gave

the letter to my niece to give to me to give to you.

Who do I give it to?

Nobody. It's for you, and there it is.

- Why?

- Well, read it, you big ape.

You'll find out. It's interesting.

OFFlCER:
Sit down.

- Thank you, sir.

- Fire away.

Well, sir, I have a friend...

Good. Not everyone can say that. Continue.

This friend of mine, sir, has a niece.

Cut it short.

You say here something about a letter.

One:
Who wrote it? Two: What's in it?

Three:
What's the War Office got to do with it?

Four:
I'll tell you. Five: Out.

One?

A girl wrote it from Berlin, sir. Edith Hunter.

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