The Reckoning

You, can put it away.

Want chop?

Yes.

You know that stinking rotten pheasant or

partridge or whatever it was Moyle gave us?

Why pretend you don't know what it was?

Do you know anyone who actually

likes that muck?

You did a great job with Moyle, darling.

Great... great.

That's what you married me for, isn't it?

Paddywhack.

B*tch.

Your bacon is burning.

Are they?

Oh.

Well, a bit surprised. I think we'd

all better watch out.

Alright. Well thanks Brunzy.

Thanks for telling me.

Pathetic little creep.

Yeah, sure. I'll pick you up first thing

in the morning. Bye.

They're after Hazlitt's guts.

I didn't know he had any.

Are you going to let go of my arm?

Bacon fat. Stained sex.

Why don't you have a bath?

Shut it!

Don't you cows ever feel anything?

Sorry.

Belt up then!

Michael. Let's go to bed Michael.

That's what you married me for, isn't it?

You stupid... drunken... Irish peasant.

Morning Brunzy.

Hi.

You fit?

Fit for anything.

Thanks for the call about Hazlitt.

They're after him you know.

Davidson?

If anyone's going to do my boss, Brunzy,

it's going to be me.

You're an aggressive bastard.

We're going places Brunzy.

Mister Marler Sir.

The battlefield.

Half a dozen mergers, a dozen takeovers,

and two suicides.

Grenfell Industries.

Good morning Mr. Marler.

Good morning darling.

"Mr Robinson wanted on the

telephone at the reception desk please".

"Mr Robinson".

See you for a jar at lunchtime.

Morning Davidson.

Morning.

"Mr Robinson wanted on telephone

at the reception desk please".

"Mr Robinson".

Morning sir.

Good morning.

Morning sir.

Morning. Morning.

Enjoy your pheasant last night, sir?

Oh your way up, Marler?

Just one below yours, sir.

Do you ever see anything of

Rosemary's mother?

From time to time.

She seems in excellent health.

She's a splendid girl, Rosemary.

Look after her, won't you.

I'll try to sir.

Have a good time in Chicago sir.

Watch out for those violin cases.

Morning, Mr Marler.

Get Hazlitt!

Mr Marler would like to speak to Mr Hazlitt.

Morning Hilda. Is he busy?

He's not in yet?

Well, when he comes in ask him... tell

him I've got to see him.

You look worried Mr Marler.

Get me Griffiths will you.

Griffiths, I want IBM's regional sales

breakdown for the last quarter.

Well, they won't give it to you

if you just ring up.

Go round the back door would you, old son.

That's better, much better.

Tomorrow lunchtime.

Joan!

Yes, Mr Marler?

Hello there.

How about getting me a couple of nice, sexy

aspirins darling? Just to keep me good.

Hilda.

You start early in the morning Mr Marler.

Hazlitt's arrived. He wants to see you.

Shall we go upstairs?

Hmm.

Hilda... I've had an idea.

What do you want to know?

I want the minutes to a meeting held

in March 1959.

Davidson's first committee.

Very clever.

Let's have a little look.

Come in... morning Michael.

I hear it went very well last night

You're very well informed.

Of course old Moore's always been

rather fond of Rosemary.

Well, he ought to try her.

She'd kill him off within a week.

He went to school with her father.

I had a phone call last night.

Davidson's trying to put the boot in.

Here's the agenda for this afternoon's

big meeting.

To put it bluntly.

They're trying to much up your chances

of taking over when Bailey gets fired.

You're in trouble, aren't you?

I was waiting for this.

Michael, why aren't we selling our larger

accounting machines?

Are you sure it isn't your salesmen?

Our salesmen are the pick of the market.

Advertising top class. Circularizing

regular as clockwork. Servicing excellent.

And the price is... dead right.

Then why are we in trouble?

I hope you realize you're going to have a

good explanation, Michael.

It's your scalp they're after, not mine,

this time Mr Hazlitt.

Perhaps we should ask ourselves what are

they buying instead?

Computers! They are far more expensive.

Astronomical.

But they are getting smaller and smaller

and expanding into our solidest market.

We should have gone into computers

years ago.

It wasn't my decision.

There was a committee formed in 1959.

They thought that computers were

just for trips to the moon.

Clearly they underestimated.

Davidson was on that committee.

That's an angle, isn't it?

Well now, Michael.

Let's look on the positive side, shall we.

And what do we recommend?

Bombard borderliners who can't

afford computers.

Offer easy terms, rentals.

Too hell with dignity!

And start producing computer accessories.

Electronic guillotines. splitters,

bursters. All the gadgets.

Go into that meeting with a policy and

show them that you've thought about it.

Splendid... yes.

Look, just write me a report on this

stuff will you.

Four or five pages. Hand out

a few facts and figures.

I'll see what I can do.

Good, good. You're uh..

This won't go unnoticed you know.

Thank you sir.

Mrs Marler phoned.

Well call her back then.

Now then Davidson.

We are going to... get you.

Mister Marler for you.

Hello?

Yes, I do realize that I woke you up.

Yes, I know you're not a cleft stick

for leaving messages.

Look, come to the point, darling.

What was the message?

Poor old sod.

Did it sound..?

Alright.

Alright now... thank you darling.

You can't!

Sorry, my father's in a bad way.

You mean you're not going to be

at the meeting?

It is my father sir.

Yes, of course. Forgive me.

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