Valentino

'For Christ, do you think

they go to bed together?'

No, I don't think they do. I think

the hottest they ever get's holding hands

while he gives her private lessons

on my dancefloor.

They don't call him Saint Rudolfo

for nothing.

- 'All right, listen, I'll be down there later.'

- Yeah, I'll see you later.

- 'Hey...'

- Mmh?

- 'You keep it warm for me, toots.'

- Yeah.

Yeah, I'm keeping it warm.

Good afternoon, Miss Billie.

OK, fellas.

Straighten up, you look like

the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

- What happened to you?

- You sent me for a haircut, Miss Billie.

Not to Alcatraz, I didn't.

- Biting your nails again, Frederico?

- Sorry, Miss Billie.

Keep that up, and I'll put you

in a straightjacket,

- Ah, snow in mid-summer.

- I'm getting it treated, Miss Billie.

Poached or sunny side up?

Who for Christ's sake are you?

I'm Jimmy Grimaldi, the replacement

from the agency, Miss Billie.

Oh, you are, are you? Well, you'd better

get some polish on your shoes, Jimmy,

otherwise you'll end up shining

other people's - just like your predecessor.

I'll try a new cream, Miss Billie.

Ain't they never heard of spit

where you people come from?

The only one to cut any ice

out of the whole bunch of you

is Saint Rudolpho here.

Even though he does act

as though he owned the joint.

But I was giving a private lesson,

Miss Billie.

You give too many private lessons.

Lay off the de Saulles dame.

Circulate more, baby.

Give some of the older broads a whirl.

They tip better.

And while we're at it,

don't go welshing on the tips, Jimmy.

It's fifty-fifty, and anybody

who forgets that is fired.

And for Christ's sake smile!

I've seen better line-ups

in the police gazette.

(# Orchestra strikes up)

You dance divinely.

Only with you. With everyone else

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