The Pink Panther Page #3

Now, Charles drives a Ferrari, enters with

a key, and resorts to collective bargaining.

Ooh!

- But they have something in common.

- What's that, Your Highness?

Maybe it's best forgotten.

Don't be silly. Charles doesn't mind.

Everyone takes a pot shot at Charles.

- Go ahead, ma'am. Shoot.

- lt seems to me,

any middle-aged bachelor who has never

desired the rewards of wife and family,

and occupies the major portion of his life

making one conquest after another,

is trying to prove something

that he can never possibly prove.

- And what's that?

- That he's a man.

Oh, you're joking!

- lt's complicated, but basically sound.

- Well, Charles?

Not very original. That theory

has become rather a tired Freudian clich.

- But true.

- l've never been on the couch.

Not true. That's part of your problem.

(laughter)

(man) How refreshing

to find royalty with such wit.

Charles, are you going

to take that lying down?

Yes, as a matter of fact. Ma'am, my leg

is hurting rather badly. May l be excused?

- l'll be damned.

- l can't believe it.

- The leg?

- l haven't the faintest idea.

(Angela) That just goes to prove there's a

first time for everything. Our turn to laugh.

Simone!

(electric razor humming)

Jacques, l'm still cold.

Perhaps another blanket, my darling?

Yes. All right, darling.

There you are, my darling.

Jacques, the light.

- Jacques?

- What, darling?

l'm sorry, my darling. lt doesn't help.

Oh?

(Simone) Perhaps a hot glass of milk.

But l think the room service

has finished, my love.

- Yes, of course. l forgot.

- You see...

(Simone sighs)

(Clouseau) Well, no matter.

There, you see.

lf my little pigeon wants a glass of milk,

she shall have one.

Even if l have to force them

to open the kitchen.

She shall have milk

wherever she goes, hot or cold.

- Hot.

- l know. That's what l said, hot.

Put it there.

Charles?

Darling, l've got to talk to you.

l've sent Jacques for some milk.

l only have a moment.

- Well, let's make the most of it.

- Stop it.

- lt was your idea.

- But you're the wrong...

The wrong what? Man?

Did you think l was...?

No, l thought you were who you are.

But l'm too impulsive.

This is not the right way...

Maybe another time.

- Here you are, my beloved.

- Thank you.

That was all they had.

You can't get a thing in this hotel. l had

to force them to give me that. Never mind.

My darling. Lovely darling.

- (Clouseau) Oh!

- What's wrong?

My darling, your feet are like two icicles.

Have you been out of bed or something?

No, of course not.

Ah, well. Anyway,

you warm them on me, eh?

(Clouseau gasps)

(phone rings)

Hello.

lt's Princess Dala. My guests have gone.

l thought perhaps you would come back.

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