Carry On Cowboy Page #2

Synopsis: Stodge City is in the grip of the Rumpo Kid and his gang. Mistaken identity again takes a hand as a "sanitary engineer" (plumber) by the name of Marshal P. Knutt is mistaken for a law marshal! Being the conscientious sort, Marshal tries to help the town get rid of Rumpo, and a showdown is inevitable. Marshal has two aids - revenge-seeking Annie Oakley and his sanitary expertise...
Genre: Comedy, Western
Director(s): Gerald Thomas
Production: HBO Video
 
IMDB:
6.2
NOT RATED
Year:
1965
93 min
298 Views


That's better.

There's liable to be some fancy shooting

around here, Miss Belle.

You'd better get the hell out.

You'd better put them specs on.

I'm the fella you're looking for.

- What was that?

- [Mouths] He's deaf.

I'm the fella you're looking for!

That's the game, is it?

Well, it takes more than dressing up

in women's clothes to fooI me, mister.

On your way, cowboy...

Cowboy?

I've had enough of this.

Look here, Twerp...

Name's Earp.

Aibert Earp, without the "tw".

With or without, what's the matter?

What have I done wrong?

You've killed three men, mister.

I know that,

but what have I done wrong?

You wanna tr drawin' on me, mister?

I can't.

I ain't got my guns.

I'll give you five seconds to find one.

One.

Two.

Three.

- Where are they?

- ...four... five.

[Gunshot]

Sheriff! Sheriff!

Here. Are you all right?

I reckon I'm going, Judge.

Oh, don't go.

Listen... listen, friend.

Just tell my folks

what happened, wllI you?

They'll even the score.

Will you do that for me, friend?

Yes, of course.

- What's that?

- Oh, for heaven's sakes.

Here. Yes! Of course!

There's no need to shout, Judge.

I'm wearing my specs.

It's I iucky I remembered

where you put that.

Oh, I do beg your pardon,

commissioner.

Damn it, Perkins,

can't you see I'm busy!

I'm terribly sorryy, sir.

This just wouldn't wait.

You think this will?

All right, all right.

What's so all-fired important?

It's another telegraph

from Stodge City, sir.

Judge Burke...

He's the Mayor there, you know.

Burke? Oh, yeah, I remember him

in law school. He's a bum.

I didn't know you studied

at law school, sir?

I didn't. I was the janitor.

What does the bum want?

Lawless elements

have completely taken over the town.

He wants us to send him

a peace marshal to clean the place up.

Why bother me with all this?

Send him a marshal. Anything for peace.

Well, that's just the trouble, sir.

We haven't any available.

Nobody?

What about that big head

who hangs around, looking for work?

What's his name?

Dillon. What's he doing?

Six months.

Oh. Well, looks like

we got a problem here.

Miss Jones,

can you think of something we can do?

Why, yes.

But hadn't we better get the problem

out of the way first?

Next.

- What can I do for you?

- I'd like a job, please.

- Name?

- Knutt.

With a "K".

Huh, you could have fooled me.

First name?

Marshal.

Marshal P. Knutt.

Most of my friends call me "Marsh".

Well, then, in that case,

you won't mind if I call you Marshal.

Profession?

Drainage, sanitation and

garbage disposal engineer, first class.

- Congratulations.

- Thank you.

Qualifications?

Yes. I have a certificate from

Chipping Sodbur Technical College.

That's in England.

And a reference from Lady Pushing,

saying what a good job I did

on her main sludge channel,

cos it was all...

bunged up, you know.

And this was presented to me

by the Chipping Sodbur Ladies' Guild,

In appreciation for services rendered.

It's a sink plunger.

It's very interesting, Mr Knutt.

I fail to see how it can be of any use to us.

That's where you're wrong.

I don't mind telling you

that since I arrived in America,

I've been amazed

by your out-of-date methods.

For instance your way of disposing

of garbage is a load of rubbish.

And as for sanitation,

I think you'll agree it's an absurd waste

of the President's vaiuable time

to have to walk from the White House

all the way to that little shed

at the bottom of the garden.

And as for your city streets...

Mr Knutt!

May I suggest

that you see the Publlc Works

Department down the corridor?

Oh, thank you.

Thank you very much.

Just a minute. Mr Knutt!

Would you piease take this with you?

Oh, yes.

We mustn't forget that, must we?

I'm terribiy sorryy.

Yes?

Well, what do you want?

I was told you might give me a job.

Job? What job?

Who the biazes are you?

Knutt. Marshal P. Knutt.

Marshal?

No-one available, huh?

Well, Marshal,

you couldn't have come at a better time.

- Really?

- Yes, sir.

How would you like to go

and clean up Stodge City for me?

Oh, very much, sir.

In a bit of a mess, is it?

You said it, Marshal.

One heck of a mess.

Funnlly enough, I was talking

about that probiem to the man outside.

- Now, I have one or two theories.

- Yes, I'm sure you have, Marshal.

But I'm a pretty busy man,

so suppose you get down

to Stodge City and get to work, huh?

See Judge Burke.

He'll tell you what's doing.

Judge Burke.

Yes, and thank you very much.

Not at all, Marshal, not at all.

Stodge City.

Oh, right in the country.

Should be nice and peaceful.

[Shouting and gunfire]

Who was that? Who did it?

[Gunfire]

Isn't it sickening?

That's the tenth window broken

in two weeks.

Who was it, Judge?

Some of those horrible friends

of the Rumpo Kid, of course.

Look at my hat.

Just look at it.

[Laughs] Three inches iower

and it would have been your head.

Don't say that!

Things have got pretty rough here

since he came.

Rough? it ain't safe for decent folks

to walk the streets.

I have to send my wife out

for everything.

Never mind. Things will get better

when they send that Marshal.

If they send him.

Oh... Why, hello, Sam.

What brings you into town?

I tell you what brings me into town.

I lost 50 head of cattle on my ranch

last night.

- Rustiers?

- They certainly weren't pickpockets!

Well, there's no need to get all sarky.

50 head. What's more,

my prize bull was among 'em.

Not old Ramrod?

Yeah. How am I to raise cattle

without a bull?

Judge, you gotta do something.

Well, it's hardly

in my line of country, Sam.

You know darned well that Rumpo Kid

and his gang are behind this.

Yeah, you're probably right, Sam,

but how are you gonna prove it?

And stay out of here, bum.

[# Lively fiddle and banjo]

Johnny.

How about this for business, huh?

Yeah, you sure

have made a difference to the place.

Well, I like to see

a bit of innocent fun.

Johnny, just look at these beautiful furs.

Silver fox and he oniy wants $50 a skin.

- Not bad.

- They'd make a loveiy fur coat.

I don't like wearing fur.

No, Johnny, I meant for me.

I get it. You want me

to buy 'em for you, huh?

Just 500 the lot, mister.

Right. I just gotta get some money

from the bank. Won't be a minute.

Morning, Mr Rumpo, sir.

Anything for me today?

Not yet, Josh.

Stick around. it's early.

[Gunshot]

[A body thuds onto floor]

Hey, that's the fourth in two weeks.

[Laughs] You're in the wrong business.

What's going on here?

[# "The Can-Can" plays]

What is it, Judge?

Don't look.

Whatever you do, don't look.

Why not?

You'll never belleve it,

but there are women dancing in there

and showing their... under things.

- No.

- Right up to here.

What do they look like?

They're sort of biack and frilly,

with these little pink rosebuds on 'em.

What does it matter what they look like?

It's disgusting.

Why, in 15 years of married life,

I haven't even seen my wife's.

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Talbot Rothwell

Talbot Nelson Conn Rothwell, OBE (12 November 1916 – 28 February 1981) was an English screenwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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