Passport to Pimlico Page #5

I mustn't embark on family matters

or I'll be here all day.

I have to take these off

for a sulphate reaction test.

I'll soon be back, though.

Depend on that.

Now that I know you're truly extant,

I go away satisfied.

Ha-ha! What Gollut would give

to be in my shoes!

Ha! I could even put

Schmel in the shade!

How long is this chemical test

going to take?

- That's contingent on certain factors.

- Please hurry it up.

If things go on like this much longer...

What's happened now?

They're packing up.

- What does this mean?

- I don't know.

You'll have to take

your place in the queue, madam.

What's the idea holding us up like this?

I got my dinner to cook.

Ah, look at that.

- Action at last.

- Yes.

That'll keep the spivs out.

Oh, er... Mr Pemberton.

- Ah.

- Mr Pemberton.

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

This is Mr Bagshawe of the, er...

Board of Customs & Excise.

He'd like to have a

word with you people.

There are just a few things

I would like to explain.

- If I might step over your frontier.

- By all means.

I must congratulate you

on the speed with which you have...

Oh, excuse me, Professor. This looks

like the solution to all our troubles.

This way.

In the line, please, madam.

Have you anything to declare, madam?

Any food stuff, livestock,

linen or cotton goods?

I hardly think this is likely to include

the credentials of the Duke of Burgundy.

Would you mind

opening that case, madam?

This really is a big relief to us, I can tell you.

It's a very very clever bit of...

- No, no, I think you're wrong.

- What's all that in aid of?

- But we tore 'em up, I tell you!

- You let him have it, Dad!

That's where we live, right there.

It's merely part

of the Customs procedure.

We naturally have to enforce

the immigration laws.

You can't have the one

without the other.

Yes, but...

Frederick Albert Cowan Esquire. That's

me. Number four, Miramont Gardens.

I am sorry, sir.

The order specifies

that identity cards must be produced

by residents who wish

to re-enter the street.

Do you mean to say that

all of us who live in this street

have got to go through that rigmarole

every time we want to leave our homes?

Oh, for a month or two.

After all,

pending a new Act of Parliament,

this is technically foreign territory.

Ha-ha-ha! Foreign territory!

I suppose that means

British subjects won't be allowed

to spend any money here.

What about all our customers?

You can't stop us earning

an honest living.

I've never heard

such a lot of rot in my life.

Don't blame me, ladies and gentlemen.

Edward lV's the one

who made you foreigners.

Here we go again!

- You people make me tired.

- Order, order!

Oh, shut up. Did you ever

hear such tripe in your life?

- Now look here, sir!

- And you shut up too.

All right, if that's the way Whitehall

want it, in future, we'll be foreigners.

That's the stuff, Dad.

We'll fight them in the tramlines,

we'll fight them in the local.

Good evening, Professor.

Oh, good evening.

Your friends in Miramont Place

have got themselves into a nice mess.

Poor souls.

The innocent victims of destiny.

They started all this nonsense.

Now they've got to put up

with the consequences.

Ah, but will they?

The Burgundians are a fighting people.

Consider what they did

against the might of Louis XI.

I fail to see what this little mob

can do against the might of Britain.

Oh! Get up, please.

All passports. Passports ready, please.

All hand luggage open, please.

Time to make

your currency declarations, please.

What the devil does this mean?

The train is now

at the Burgundian frontier.

A fighting people, Mr Bassett.

Worthy successors

of the Knights of the Golden Fleece.

Have you anything to declare, madam?

Any food stuff, livestock,

linen or cotton goods?

No.

Any muskrats,

mealworms, motorcycles,

hashish, prepared opium

or agricultural machinery?

Oh!

Have you any foreign currency?

English pounds? Traveller's cheques?

- Suppose I have?

- I just wondered.

No passage beyond this point

without passports. All passports.

- Here is mine.

- Hm?

What is it you... you... Baratooshe,

er... Baratooshe,

er... Baratooshe... United Kingdom!

England, United Kingdom!

All hand luggage ready for inspection,

please. Anything to declare?

Anything to declare, sir? Any livestock,

foodstuff, linen or cotton goods?

Rather!

Come along.

Come along, please.

All ready with your passports.

Get your passports out.

So reminds me of the time

I visited the catacombs.

Mr Pemberton, this is preposterous.

Sorry, Mr Bassett.

We're a foreign country now.

We can't allow tourists

without the usual formalities.

Come along, sir, please.

- Pass down the track.

- The Duke!

- Oh, madam, is it proved?

- Beyond a title of a doubt.

Yes, gentlemen, you see before you

the 18th Duke of Burgundy.

Your liege lord, your sovereign!

Floreat Burgundia!

Stop that train!

What are we going to tell the old man?

Well, after this underground business,

I doubt if he will give us

a chance to open our mouths.

Soap.

Were you issued with this?

No, I pinched it

from the French Embassy.

Oh. Ha-ha.

This situation, though,

it's an absolute deadlock.

Oh, no, not quite.

Now that this Duke

has been officially recognised,

we can at least talk to them.

- Towel?

- The time for talk's past.

Any more talk and we've had it.

We've got to do something.

We've got to tell this Duke

where he gets off.

Oh, well, I hope the old man

won't put me on to it.

After all, this fellow's been made

a sort of king in a way.

Yes. Probably having his coronation

at this very moment.

Well, why don't you loosen your tie,

Your Grace?

- I thought you'd be used to the heat.

- Well, it's never as bad as that in Dijon.

All the same, I bet you'd rather

be there than couped up here.

Why do you think it

so much nicer than Pimlico?

I imagine it's a little more romantic.

Oh, do you? What do you think

we would be doing in Dijon this evening?

Well, we... we'd eat in the open

and dance in the main square

under the trees.

Then maybe we'd go for a little walk

up one of those funny old

cobbled streets to the castle

and when we reach the orange grove...

we'd sit beneath the castle wall

and watch the dawn come up.

And, er...

in the cool morning breeze,

maybe I would put my coat

around your shoulders

and...

Hm.

Well, anyway,

I'm afraid Dijon is not a bit like that.

We cannot dance in the main square because

of the trams which run all night,

and, er... we cannot grow oranges

because it's too cold,

and, er... where the castle was,

well, today there is a cement factory.

Then it's just about as romantic

as Camden Town.

Ah, but the people,

they make it different.

You should see us at the vendange,

the, er... the wine harvest,

when all over the country,

the peasants celebrate.

And they are gay,

not... not drunk but very, very gay.

And, er... well, I suppose

we would walk in the moonlight,

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