Cul-de-sac Page #3

You're egging me on.

You want to see a fight, don't you?

You want blood. I know women.

Women! You want to see a fight.

I'll give you -

You want me to tell him

what I think of him? Hmm?

All right! You'll see a fight!

Locked. Blast it.

Open this door, you swine!

Sorry. Um, have you got something

to make a bandage out of?

For Albie.

Got any iodine or something like that?

Oh. This will do very nicely.

- I have only got alcohol.

- Oh, thanks. That'll be -

- This is not a hospital.

- It'll be great.

And now, before the news,

here is the weather forecast.

The Midlands, central and South East England

will be mostly dry -

Do you mind if I borrow this

until tomorrow morning? Thank you.

...and the Channel Islands, slight rain is expected

and will appear by tomorrow -

Nighty-night.

...Friday and Saturday,

changeable with rain in some -

Gee.

I found it! Ha!

Lie down, Albie.

And please don't act so nutty, Albie.

There it is! There!

- Where?

- Come closer. Look. There.

I can't see anything.

Eh, you're blind.

Give me the glasses.

That's it.

Ah!

I lost it.

What have you lost?

The Little Bear.

I can't find it anymore.

There must be some booze in this dump.

I'd like a drink.

Albie, lie down.

You got a belly full of holes,

and you want a drink? Lie down.

You've got a head full of holes,

and you still want to argue.

Let go of me, you half-wit.

I want a drink, I tell you.

Please, Albie, be quiet.

My God, he is patient with you.

If I was Katelbach, I'd have

kicked you out long ago. I want a nip.

All right. Lie down.

I want a nip.

All right, Albie. I'll get one for you.

Be right back.

Don't move!

Don't move, or I'll shoot!

Come out, clown face!

And keep your hands up,

or I'll let her have it!

- I'm alone.

- I'll count to three.

- I'm alone! I swear! I climbed through the window!

- One! Two!

He could never do it!

- Where is he?

- Asleep.

I locked you up, you little tramp,

didn't I?

Didn't I? Why'd you get out?

You want me to teach you

a lesson, huh?

Well, my name ain't George,

and I don't wear horns.

I could punch that pretty puss

of yours into a pumpkin.

- Is that what you want?

- Like a pumpkin.

Shut up.

I don't dig chicks like you.

Now you got even less chance of getting on

the right side of my pals when they get here.

If you want to stay in one piece,

you better play ball.

Look.

I came down to see

what you are doing.

I could have phoned the police by now,

couldn't I?

Phone the police.

Listen, you little twist,

you must take me for a real sucker.

Here. Phone the police.

By my guest.

I could swim.

Swim or not,

my advice to you is to stay put.

- Who's going to catch me - you?

- Shut up.

- I could swim.

- Shut up.

Oh, what I really like

is for you to clear the hell out.

Will you shut your trap

once and for all!

- Why are you digging?

- It's a hobby I got.

May I go and get something

in the house?

May I go? Please.

- Go to hell.

- Thank you.

He's dead.

You don't say so.

You are digging it for him.

I'm digging for gold, you dope.

But - But one has to wait

two or three days.

- Is that so?

- It's the law.

- It is?

- Sure, it is.

Not for Albie.

He shoved the law

up where it belonged.

Would you like a vodka?

Gosh, this stuff's murder.

I make it myself.

No kiddin'? Must be hard work.

Bloody hard, that ground of yours.

Phew!

Gosh, this stuff is raw -

like pure alcohol.

It's pure medicinal alcohol.

- Ring the good old bugle, boys

We'll sing a merry song

Sing it as we used to sing it

fifty-thousand strong

- Don't move. Don't move. Don't move.

- While we were marching through Georgia

Hurrah, hurrah

- See, I told you we shouldn't -

- Hurrah for the red, white and blue

Hurrah, hurrah

Hurrah for the Union, you

Come on out, stupid!

Good morning, jolly!

Come on out and help us dig!

- Dig?

- Yes, you lunkhead!

Come on down. I won't eat ya!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

- With one finger?

- With one finger.

You know what I mean.

Oh, charming.

- My congratulations.

- Cut it out.

With you, one always has to be as -

as solemn as a priest.

Down with the clergy.

That's scandalous! It's absolutely scandalous!

Mind you, I recognize everybody's opinion.

I concede there are a few priests

who really believe in what they preach...

but most of them are phonies.

It's the same thing everywhere.

Take politics, for example.

- Look out there!

- Ooh!

There are a few legitimate guys,

and most of 'em are phonies.

And the people are all suckers.

They're taken for a ride.

Ain't that right, pal?

Cheers, old chap.

I never drink.

You ain't refusing to have a drink

with Dickie, are you?

I can't drink alcohol. It makes me sick.

Especially this time in the morning.

Either you're a pal or you ain't.

Time don't make no difference with pals.

Bottoms up.

No, really, I -

Alcohol is murder for my ulcer.

Especially this... muck.

The things one has to listen to.

You're gonna get me real mad.

Drink up.

To the last drop.

Albie's specs.

Albie's specs. I got a good mind

to knock your block off.

You've been asking for it

for some time.

- You need a lesson.

- What lesson?

- To respect the dead.

- But listen. I-I -

There are no buts.

Just because Albie didn't go to Oxford.

Real mean of you to smash his glasses.

How could you?

I didn't do it on purpose.

I swear to you, Dickie.

Listen to the little jerk - answering back.

Will wonders never cease?

Are we going to be friends or not?

I've got to know.

I say, what a grip.

You said it, curly.

Dig!

Hey, is that all right?

Look.

Yeah.

- Hey! Wait, wait! Wait!

- Climb out.

Wait! Hold on!

Wait, wait! Look, wait a minute!

Well, get out. Hurry. Quick.

If you think it's easy -

I can't - He's got to -

Still hootin'.

Shut up!

How old is it?

What?

Oh, it's... 11 th century -

Century.

Bloody creepy hole.

That's where he wrote it.

- What?

- There, behind those stained-glass windows.

Gee, this stuff could kill you.

Wrote the whole thing up there.

St. Cuthbert's room.

Mmm.

That stuff could... blind you.

Here.

By the way, it should light.

Too much wind.

There aren't any more writers like...

Walter.

You're darn right.

They don't know how to tell a story

like that anymore.

What story?

- Rob Roy.

- Moving picture?

- His pen is still there.

- Oh, imagine that. Yeah.

Fragments of manuscripts.

Oh, I seen him in that movie,

Rob Roy, yeah.

There's a letter he wrote to a young protg

en route for London.

What a rock pile.

Eleventh century.

Romantic age.

Bring on the little girls.

You could throw some real wild orgies

in that old castle of yours...

couldn't you, you old bastard, you?

Well, that's nothing to cry about.

- It's not that.

- What is it then?

I can't tell you.

You're hiding things from me now?

Well, I'm going to take a bath, children.

Hey, ba - Baby, baby.

Baby, come back. Come back.

Baby, come back! You'll drown!

Baby says nuts to you!

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