Laughter in Paradise

Here, in this mansion in a quiet London square,

a man lies dying.

And as he dies, the world remembers

the feats which made him famous.

The outrageous pranks, which time and again

shook officialdom to its very foundations.

Yes, Henry Augustus Russell

will soon be joining the great majority.

It's hard to believe that this frail ghostlike figure

was once the greatest practical joker of modern times.

The dusky eastern potentate

who so nearly purchased The Albert Hall.

The bronzed red-indian chief,

feted for swimming the Channel...

complete with feathered headdress

and tomahawk.

Goodbye Henry Russell...

your last practical joke is done.

Or is it?

Telegram...

For Miss Agnes Russell.

Thank you.

Oh... will you please wait here.

Come in!

Excuse me ma'am... there's a telegram.

That's no excuse coming in here

looking like a chimneysweep...

Go and put your apron on at once!

Yes ma'am.

But the boy's waiting for a reply.

Well, let him wait...

that's what he's paid for.

It's dusty.

Ethel... you see this photograph...

Yes, ma'am...

Well, don't stand there... come here!

My brother... he died this morning.

Oh, I am sorry, ma'am...

This photograph is smothered with dust!

But if I'd known the poor gentleman

had passed away...

It should not be necessary for people to die

in order to have their photograph dusted.

No, ma'am.

I'm ever so sorry about your bad news, ma'am.

You have reason to be.

For I shall now be able to afford some servants

who know their duty.

You can take a fortnight's notice from today.

Now go!

Mr Russell, it's useless arguing.

If every bank clerk in every bank in England

was half a crown short in his calculations every week...

Do you know how much that would cost?

If you like to let me have

pencil and paper sir...

I'll work it out for you

if you really want to know.

I don't want to know...

I want you to think about it!

Oh, yes sir...

It's a very disturbing thought sir.

But sometimes sir, it isn't easy.

If it was easy, Mr Russell, there'd be

no need for bank clerks.

Yes... no, sir.

Come in!

Sorry to disturb you, sir...

There's a person in the bank

asking for Mr Russell.

Let one of the other clerks

deal with him.

It's a personal visit, sir... a lady...

a Mrs Goodwin.

Oh?... Who might this lady be?

No sir, she's no lady...

she's my landlady.

The bank, Mr Russell, is no place

for music-hall repartee...

Get rid of her at once.

Yessir.

I'm sorry to worry you like this sir,

but she was most...

Wipe that syncopatic smile off your face!

Hello, Mrs Goodwin.

Oh, Mr Russell... I thought I'd better pop in.

Just after you left, a telegraphic communication

arrived for you.

And I thought it might be urgent.

I didn't open it, of course...

So I don't know what

there may be in it.

But I think you should be prepared

for some rather sad news.

Oh, Mr Russell... was he very dear to you?

Pray accept my heartiest condolences!

Thank you Mrs Goodwin... thank you!

Not at all, I'm sure.

Well... see you at supper.

Yes.

Not bad news, I hope...?

Yes, in a way it was, yes.

A distant cousin of mine has just died.

Henry Russell... you've probably read about him.

He was always telling me that I lacked 'push'.

Yes, 'push' I think it was.

Nonsense... why don't you go and ask

Mr Wagstaffe for the afternoon off?

Everyone does on these occasions.

Oh, no... I couldn't!

Go on!... Show you've got some push.

Go on!

Yes... why not?!

Yes... I jolly well will!

Come in!

Yes?!

I...

Well?

A distant cousin of mine

has just died, sir...

How distant?

A long way off, sir.

What about it, then?

Well, it seems I'm a beneficiary

under his will, sir.

Just because you've come into a few pounds,

doesn't mean you can behave like a millionaire!

You'll be asking for the afternoon off, next!

Oh, no sir.

Oh, no.

No.

I'll raise you a fiver.

Your 5...

...and 10 more, Russell.

Tenner, eh?...

I'll see you.

Fours...

Fours?

How high?

4 kings.

If you beat that, I'll eat my cigar.

Better start eating, old son... 4 aces!

- Telegram sir...

- Open it, Benson.

Bad luck, old boy... but I did have

the decency not to raise you.

Very kind of you Simon, I'm sure.

Well, I hate fleecing a pal in my own flat.

What?...

Fantastic!

Well... you'll have to carry on

without me...

So make yourselves at home...

there's plenty of whisky...

Well, I like that!

You would pardon Mr Russell, sir...

He's had some very sad news.

My heart bleeds for him.

Hello... Mr Endicott?

Simon Russell here... I just got your wire.

Is it true?

Splendid!...

Yes, I thought it might have been another

of those infernal practical jokes of his.

See you on Wednesday at the celebration.

No... of course... I mean the funeral...

I'm sorry!

I'm happy as a lark!

Benson... my dinner jacket...

I'm celebrating tonight.

Now look here... get on to Christine...

and tell her... no... she drinks too much...

Call Zena, and tell her

to meet me at The Garter...

She's always a certainty.

Are you ready Miss Wilcott?

- Yes.

- Good.

"Blood Lust"...

A novel by Jeremy Sinclair

Chapter I... entitled "Sweet Meeting"

Paragraph

I walked into the room and there stood Petal...

her silken hair languorously

caressing one fair cheek...

her lips, red and inviting...

I walked over to her and slugged her

on the mouth...

No... no... change that, Miss Wilcott... to...

slugged her in the kisser...

Kisser!

Before going down, she threw me a single glance...

of searing hate suffused with scorn...

She was certainly a swell tomato!

That's a beautiful beginning, Capt. Russell...

It really is!

I'm afraid it's all rather disgusting really,

but... well, they seem to like the American touch.

Well.. um... proceed...

I leaned over her as she lay on the floor...

her green eyes half closed...

her bruised lips curled

in a slightly contemptuous smile.

"Petal", I whispered, "I love you, I love you. "

I love you.

- Three "I love you"s?

- That's right.

Then 4 dots and 4 X's...

Bother!

Capt. Deniston Russell's secretary.

Who wants him, please?

Oh... just a moment...

Your fiance...

Hello dear...

Yes, yes... I said I'd phone you at 6.

Well it's only 2 minutes past, you know.

Sorry, dear...

Just dictating letters...

paying bills, you know...

Yes, dear...

Oh dear, really, dear!

Goodbye, dear!

Well now... where were we?

dot-dot-dot and 4 X's

Oh yes...

A convulsive tremor shook her slender frame...

and Petal moaned...

Miss Wilcott?

Petal moaned.

I know it's none of my business,

but I think you ought to tell her.

Tell who... what?

Your fiance... about your being a writer.

If you're getting married in a fortnight...

But I couldn't do that...

Oh dear... good gracious no...

Oh, she'd never approve...

I mean it's not as if I were a... Bernard Shaw...

Oh, but she'd be proud of you!

Not many people can get

a book published at all...

And look at you... scores of them!

And under 15 different names!

Yes, well I'm afraid Elizabeth doesn't

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