Bedazzled

The communion of saints...

forgiveness of sins, the

resurrection of the body...

and life everlasting.

Amen.

Let us pray.

Lord, have mercy upon us.

Christ, have mercy upon us.

Lord, have mercy upon us.

Amen.

Our Father.

Our Father, which art

in heaven, hallowed...

Dear God, there's something

I want to ask you.

Of course you know what it is...

because you know everything that's

going to happen before it happens...

so there's really

no need to ask you.

But I thought I'd ask

you in any case.

Now, you know that I believe in you.

But I was wondering if you could

give me just a little sign.

I mean, I'm not saying that if

you don't give me the sign...

that I won't believe in you... I'm not

threatening you or anything like that.

But please, please give

me enough courage...

to speak to Margaret Spencer

and get to know her.

O God, make clean our

hearts within us.

And take not thy

holy spirit from us.

Miss Spencer...

I wonder if I could

have a word with you.

There's something

I've got to tell you...

something I've got to

bring out into the open.

I've been bottling it up

inside me too long...

and there's no point

in hiding it anymore.

For six years now, ever since

you came to Wimpy's...

I've been in love with you.

I only live to hear your voice.

One cheeseburger, one shanty,

one portion french fries.

Each time you speak...

it's like a thousand violins

playing in the halls of heaven.

I-I love you, Miss Spencer.

I love everything about you...

the way you walk, your sweet

smile, your easy grace and charm.

Wimpy Burgers twice, one M.R.,

one well, heavy on the onions.

I wish I could take you

away from all this.

I'd like us to start a

new life together...

a little house of our own, a car,

the two of us against the world...

joined forevermore in holy wedlock.

Miss Spencer!

What?

Nothing.

Good evening.

I couldn't help noticing that you were

making an unsuccessful suicide bid.

What are you doing in my room?

What do you want?

I'm here to help you, Mr. Moon.

- I don't want any help. Please go away.

- Oh, all right.

I just thought you might be interested

in a little matter of a million pounds.

A million pounds?

Don't let me interfere with

your doing away with yourself.

What's this about a million pounds?

- May I come in?

- Yes, please do.

Thank you. I wonder if you'd

mind taking my cloak.

Hang it somewhere dry, would you.

- Might I sit down?

- Oh. Do.

Thank you.

- It's a very nasty little place you've got here.

- Oh. Thank you.

What's this about a million pounds?

Oh, a million pounds, yes.

You remember your

great-great-great-grandfather?

Well, I never even met my father.

- How very sad.

- Excuse me.

In all events, your great-great-great-

grandfather, Ephraim Moon...

sailed for Australia in

1782 on a ship of the line.

Set himself up as an apothecary.

The business flourished...

and by the time he died it was worth

something in the region of 2,000.

A large amount in those days.

Yes.

Your great-great-grandfather,

Cedric Moon...

by skillful management

and careful husbandry...

increased that sum a hundredfold.

This, in turn, was inherited by your

great-grandfather, Desmond Moon...

who expanded, diversified...

and built up a personal fortune

of well over a million pounds.

Oh. That's a lot of money.

A great deal of money, Mr. Moon.

And this gigantic sum...

was inherited by your

grandfather, Hubert Moon...

who returned to London and frittered it

away on wine, women and loose living.

Uh, where does that leave me then?

Penniless and on the

brink of suicide.

You get out of here

before I call the police.

Before you call the what?

The police.

You realize that suicide

is a criminal offense.

In less enlightened times

they'd have hung you for it.

Look, exactly what do you want?

I told you.

Seriously, I want to help you.

Unburden yourself. It does you

good to share your problems.

What interest is it to you?

Please go away!

I'm interested in everybody.

Please tell me. What drove

you to this desperate act?

All right, I'll tell you.

I'm miserable.

I've got a boring job, no

money, no prospects...

I haven't got a girlfriend, I can't get to know

anyone, no one wants to get to know me...

and everything is hopeless.

All right? Satisfied?

And if you really want to help me,

you can get me a sock for this pipe.

Oh, yes. They're in the top

left-hand drawer, aren't they?

Yeah.

But suicide, Mr. Moon?

Really, really, really.

That's the last thing you should do.

Don't you think it's

taking the easy way out?

Easy way out?

What's easy about it?

Look. The bleedin' pipe's broken.

Can't even manage to kill myself.

Let's face it, Mr. Moon...

you're a complete failure.

Yes... Oh.

I'll fix that.

You know that million

pounds I mentioned?

Yes?

I wasn't joking.

I could give you that and more.

Everything you've ever seen

in the advertisements...

fast, white convertibles...

blonde women, their hair

trailing in the wind...

wafer-thin after-dinner chocolates.

If you had all that, would

you be any happier?

What are you on about?

Would the words Prince of

Darkness mean anything to you?

Beelzebub? Mephistopheles?

The horned one?

I know. You've escaped

from somewhere.

No, I haven't, Mr. Moon.

I'm the horned one, the devil.

Let me give you my card.

Oh, yes, the devil. Of course.

Silly old me.

Cor blimey!

I left my hankie at Wimpy's.

I wonder if you'll excuse me.

Don't rush away, Mr. Moon.

You're a nutcase.

You're a bleedin' nutcase.

They said the same of Jesus

Christ, Freud and Galileo.

They said it of a lot

of nutcases too.

You're not as stupid as you

look, are you, Mr. Moon?

What can I do to convince

you that I'm the devil?

Supposing I granted you your

dearest wish here and now?

What about that girl at Wimpy's?

Margaret Spencer?

Yes.

How do you know about her?

And how do you know

so much about me...

where my socks are and

who my grandfather was?

I told you.

I've been taking an interest in you.

Look, well, supposing I, um...

gave you a trial wish.

No obligation on your part.

Just to get acquainted.

Is there anything in the

world you really desire?

Margaret Spen...

Aside from Margaret Spencer.

We'll save her till later, when

you sign. Anything else?

Um... a Frobisher and Gleason

raspberry-flavored ice lolly.

Very well, Mr. Moon.

Conclusively to prove that

I am indeed the unholy one...

a Frobisher and Gleason

raspberry-flavored ice lolly...

shall be yours...

in a trice.

Here you are.

Thank you.

Oh, um, have you got sixpence?

I've only got a million-pound note.

- Thank you.

- Ta.

Convinced?

Do me a favor.

I could have done that myself.

I thought you were

gonna conjure it up.

You're just like all the rest, aren't you?

No proof is good enough.

I want a miracle.

A rain of toads or something.

All right then. Which of the

cheap tricks is it gonna be?

Wine into water?

Stick into serpent?

How about flying through

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