Rogue Male

English subs by claudg1950@yahoo.com, Buenos Aires

ROGUE MALE:

Please...

No, the other way.

Fine...

Yes, it's fine.

I was bored!

Bored? You're a liar!

- I am sorry...

- Sorry?!

You tried to shoot the greatest man the world

has ever seen and you say you're sorry?

It was a sporting stalk. I'm sorry because

you don't have the wits to understand...

I went to school in England.

You say I don't understand English?

You understand English! You

just don't understand Englishmen!

- How did you get here?

- I walked.

- Walked?

- Safest way.

- Walked from where?

- Poland.

- That's over 200 miles!

- I got a good bootmaker.

Snade, in Crivet street.

You are an agent of British

Foreign Office intelligence.

Actually not. It's been little sign of intelligence

in the British Foreign Office for a very long time.

You had a gun... with a bullet in the breach.

A very high power, very expensive gun.

One has to be properly equipped to stalk.

What's to stalk without a weapon?

We might as well have an egg

and spoon race without a spoon.

- And a bullet? Does one have to have a bullet?

- Habits are habits. Rules are rules!

It would've been cricket otherwise.

- Life is not a game of cricket, my friend.

- No...

Pity.

Who sent you? The truth.

You wouldn't know the truth if it kicked you!

I'm a free individual. I came on my own.

I brought my passport to clearance.

In its first page you will see what

His Majesty's Foreign Secretary

requests or requires of any foreigners

into whose hands I may fall.

I suggest you beat carefully!

Your passport...

sir Robert. Uhm!

You think we don't

know a forgery when we see one?

It's mine, actually. One of

your chappies' call'd confirm.

Connections are very slow from here. We

will pull out your fingernails while we wait.

Determined whether it is genuine?

You tried to kill him. You? Why?

- A man in your position!

- What position?

An aristocrat. An English gentleman.

I would've thought you to be

in our side, if anyone would...

- On your side?

- As it is.

- I'm a bit of a problem.

- A nuisance, not a problem.

You can't just put ME up

against the wall, can't you?

- We are not barbarians.

- Of course there'll be questions.

- I don't think so.

- Oh, but there will, you see,

and you know there will.

My uncle...

Is a close friend of our

ambassador in London. Oh, yeah.

Very close.

- It's time you grow up, sir Robert. The world is changing.

- Yes, for the worse.

We must find a way of disposing

of you that doesn't upset your uncle.

Well, you're author of Rough

Shooting, the great Hunter...

While a house guest, a welcomed house guest

at a weekend shoot among the new leaders

of the world -whom you so much admire-

sir Robert, unfortunately, went off on his own

and suffered a mishap that lead to his death.

His body has been returned to London

with every mark of respect,

and will be interred in the family tomb.

I'm sure The Times will give

you at least half a column.

I wonder what the Foreign Office

will make of a body without fingernails

Will they take it as a mark of

respect on the part of the new order?

Good point, sir Robert.

May I tell you my little scenario?

As a gentleman hunter wouldn't cause a

wounded animal to suffer without finishing off.

Thank you.

So, having wounded a wild boar

during the course of a boring afternoon

No, my God! The English sense

of humour never traveled!

You followed it cross country to here. You called

it, it charged, you were caught off balance...

And really it's most unfortunate, almost idiotic...

You managed to grab the edge of the cliff --off course

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