Johnny English Page #4

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I've been dropped into

the Kalahari Desert...

carrying nothing more than a toothbrush

and a packet of sherbet lemons,

and I still found my way to

Bulawayo before Ramadan.

So thank you, Bough,

but no thank you.

- [Buzzer Sounds]

- Bough, go!

Geronimo!

- [Buzzer Sounds]

- Fandango!

Ugh! Ai-yi-yi.

Right.

- [Beeps]

- Alarm's disabled, sir.

Roger that, Bough.

[Grunts, Groans]

This is worse

than I thought, Bough.

Sauvage has got some kind

of laboratory set up here.

God knows what kind

of sick operation he's running.

[Door Opens]

My God, what

have they done to you?

They've taken some of my blood.

- Bastards!

- It's only for tests.

Of course it is.

Come on, my friend.

Let's get you out of here

before they take anything else.

[Groaning]

Ah! Good evening,

Dr Frankenstein.

This way, please.

Come on. I haven't got all night.

And you, you angels of death.

About turn. Come on, let's go.

Come on, come on.

Keep moving.

Come on. Over there. I know

what you're doing here. And you.

Come on. Quicker. Quicker.

Over there.

Now then,

perhaps you could direct me

to your evil paymaster.

- What are you talking about?

- You know exactly what I'm talking about.

Where is the office

of Pascal Sauvage?

Are you coming over here

in a minute, sir?

I'm from MI7.

This has been a test of your

emergency response systems,

and I have to say

you've all done extremely well.

Right. Well, I'll leave you to it.

And, uh, get well soon.

Oh, God!

Sir. Sir.

[Exhales]

Did you just land

on the wrong building?

I did a precautionary sweep

of the immediate environment.

Right.

- And everything was fine.

- Good.

Okay, let's go.

I will be downstairs

at the reception--

- That's far enough.

- Well, good evening.

- Perhaps you'd like this as well.

- What is it?

- Let me show you.

- Aah!

Well executed, Bough,

but completely redundant.

- How do you mean, sir?

- Super-strength muscle relaxant.

When he wakes up, he'll be

as floppy as a damp old sock.

[Men Conversing, Indistinct]

What's this?

That's the face of

the archbishop of Canterbury.

[English]

What are they doing?

[English] What's this got to do

with the Crown Jewels?

Bough.

[Beep, Whirring]

[Bough]

English.

A people whose empire

once covered...

one quarter of the surface

of the earth.

Alas, no longer.

My friends ask me, ''Pascal,

how can you be so interested...

in such a backward,

grotty little country?''

My answer is simple:

the queen.

The queen has more power

in her tiny white gloves...

than any other head of state

in the entire world.

She can declare war

or make peace,

and most intriguingly...

she can seize any piece of land

which takes her fancy.

Of course,

the queen never uses...

the enormous power

afforded to her.

But imagine someone

who would use that power.

Imagine, say, me.

But how could he do that, sir?

How could he make himself king?

The archbishop.

- [Sauvage Continues, Indistinct]

- [Door Opens]

Ow.

Hands up.

There's a good fellow.

Heavily armed for a late night

at the office.

You fool, English. You'll never

get out of the building alive.

I'd save your breath

for my questioning.

I'm not telling you

anything.

Incorrect.

Sodium pentothal.

- I won't lie to you. It's a truth serum.

- [Groans]

Now then, why does Sauvage

want to have himself crowned?

You have no idea

what's going on here, do you?

[Chuckles] It would be funny

if it wasn't so ''pablibblit''.

What?

[Mumbling Gibberish]

- He's talking gibberish, sir.

- I can hear that.

[Groans]

- He's collapsed onto me, sir.

- I can see that.

- You don't think you could've got the syringes mixed up?

- What?

Given the guard outside truth serum

and given Klein the muscle relaxant?

Aah!

Don't be ridiculous, Bough.

I think I know my right from my left.

- Sir?

- Oh, bugger it.

Bough, take ''flodd''.

- Take what, sir?

- ''Flodd''. ''Schlage''.

- I'm not quite getting that second word, sir.

- ''Schlaaaagh!''

- Write it down, sir.

- ''Schlaaaagh!''

Yes!

[Muttering Gibberish]

''C.'' C-A-- Uh--

Car! Take the car!

We came by plane.

[Muttering Gibberish]

Bugger off!

- Hold it right there.

- [Groans]

- What's wrong with them?

- I'm not telling you.

Wrong answer.

What is it with you two?

Huh?

[Groaning]

Let's get outta here.

Sorry, but who are you, exactly?

Special Agent Campbell.

I'm attached to Interpol in Paris.

We've been watching

Sauvage for months.

Why?

Because every major convict released

from a Sauvage prison in six months...

has been employed

by one of his companies.

We believe he's recruiting them

for a major criminal conspiracy.

- We just don't know what yet.

- [English Mumbles Gibberish]

- What did he say?

- Pegasus!

We have to report

to Pegasus!

Oh, no, sir.

No, no, no.

- How do we get out of here?

- Hey, you tWo!

What you did to me really hurt.

Yeah. Sorry about that. How do we

get out of here without being seen?

Okay.

Left by the fountain, right by the fire

exit, to the elevator at the end.

- Thank you.

- Oh, my God.

Nice job, Bough.

- Left, sir. Left!

- [English Muttering]

[Bough] Sir, you can't go

to Sauvage's reception in this state.

The effect of the drug

has practically worn off.

I'm ''fline''--

''schline''--

uh, ''gline''--

## [Orchestra]

- Monsieur.

- Ah. Thank you.

[Glass Shatters]

- Would you like another?

- Please.

Thank you.

[Groans]

What in God's name--

Ah, Foreign ''Sebretarary.''

Um--

[Moans]

Aah!

- ## [Up-tempo]

- Shall we dance?

[Groans]

Excuse me, sir.

I'm very sorry to interrupt--

Pascal, how nice

to see you again.

- Enjoying the party?

- Oh, splendid affair.

I was until I was informed

that your man English...

and his curious boyfriend here

have spent the evening...

breaking into my office

and assaulting my staff.

- Is this true, Bough?

- Well, we-- we--

What do you think

you're up to?

- Sir, if I could just offer--

- Go home, Bough!

Now!

I gave you direct orders

not to meddle with Sauvage.

What do you do? Break into his office

and assault two of his staff.

Then you march in here, loaded with God

knows what, and insult the foreign secretary.

I haven't encountered such

behaviour in Whitehall in 30 years.

- But--

- There are no ''buts'', English.

You're off the case. Your security

clearance is hereby cancelled.

After a three-month leave of absence,

you will return at your old grade.

And I hope never

to hear your name again.

[Thunder Rumbling]

[Sauvage]

English has seen too much.

We go to Plan B.

Get rid of

the fake archbishop...

and green-light

the visit to Her Majesty.

Then this pathetic country

can humiliate itself...

by crowning me officially.

THE QUEEN'S RESIDENCE

AT SANDRINGHAM:

That's a letter

of abdication...

renouncing your claims

to the throne...

and the claims

of your entire family.

Sign it.

Never!

[Yelps]

- [Gun C*cks]

- [Whimpers]

[Dog Barks]

- [Rings]

- Yes?

Prime Minister, sorry to call so late,

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