The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp Page #2

I was fighting for my country

when your father was still in bumfreezers!

Puppy!

Gangster!

You laugh at my big belly,

but you don't know how I got it.

You laugh at my moustache,

but you don't know why I grew it.

How do you know what sort of a fellow I was

when I was as young as you

40 years ago?

DlSTORTED VOlCE:
40 years ago.

40 years ago...

- Everything you want, Mr Candy, sir?

- Yes, thanks, Peters.

Da da da

Da dum bom bom bom

Bop-a-bop-a-bum

MAN:
Da da da, da dum dum dum dum

Da da da-da da

Da da da, da-dum bom bom bom

Da da da-da da

BOTH:
Da-a-a-a-a!

Quiet!

Quiet! People are trying to sleep.

- Suggie!

- Hoppy, my old horse!

- Since when are you in London?

- Yesterday. Sick leave.

I say, I've been searching for you

all over the city.

- Yes?

- I'm terribly sorry to hear about your leg.

Jumping Jehoshaphat! It is there!

- What did you think I was standing on?

- I thought you had a wooden leg.

- Why should I have a wooden leg?

- They told me they cut off your left leg.

Can't have, old boy. I'd have known about it.

Quiet!

(Horses outside)

- Call a cab, porter.

- Yes, sir.

Boy.

- A hansom. Growlers barred.

- He knows, sir.

I could have done with a nap myself.

I'm going to the theatre tonight.

- Can't you sleep there?

- lnvited. Two ladies.

- Can I come?

CANDY:
One is the mother.

Your cab, sir.

Ah. The opera singers, eh?

Hm. No wonder

civilians are grumbling about the Army.

Ought to be ashamed of yourselves,

yelling and screaming like some damned...

damned foreigner.

It's a nice state of things.

Officers and men losing their lives

in South Africa,

while young officers are roaring about

public places like drunkards.

Perhaps you are drunk, hm?

- What's this?

- The VC, sir.

- Where did you get it?

- South Africa. Jordaan Siding.

You're Candy. "Sugar" Candy!

Yes, sir.

Good show, Candy.

- Thank you, sir.

- Hopwell, sir.

- Hopwell? Son of Barney Hopwell of the 66th?

- Yes, sir.

- You're very musical.

- No, sir.

- And so are you.

- You mean, Mignon, sir? "l Am Titania"?

- You're what?

- Titania.

We were shut up with her for seven months

near Jordaan Siding.

- I beg your pardon?

- It's an aria, sir.

Mignon. We had a phonograph and broke

every record but that one. We know it by heart.

Well, are you boys going to Piccadilly?

That's where I'm going.

(Old soldier coughs)

- Can I give you a lift?

- No, thank you, sir. We've got a cab.

- St James's Palace.

- Right, sir.

I hope you two boys enjoy your leave.

You've earned it.

Thank you, sir. Mind the door, sir.

Boy!

- Another hansom.

- The old horse thief.

(Horn)

- Have you ever ridden in one?

- Rather. All the way to Epsom.

- Lovely lines, hasn't she?

- Topping.

- A hot potato, sir?

- No, no. We've just come over for a warm.

The same beastly drizzle.

The same fog and soot. Good old London.

Now, listen, Suggie. You remember

that interview you gave The Times?

- You don't mean to say you read it?

- Me? No.

But I have a niece who has a governess

who has a sister.

- Pretty?

- Never laid eyes on her, but she read it.

- Who?

- My niece's governess's sister. In Berlin.

She wrote to her sister over here who gave

the letter to my niece to give to me to give to you.

Who do I give it to?

Nobody. It's for you, and there it is.

- Why?

- Well, read it, you big ape.

You'll find out. It's interesting.

OFFlCER:
Sit down.

- Thank you, sir.

- Fire away.

Well, sir, I have a friend...

Good. Not everyone can say that. Continue.

This friend of mine, sir, has a niece.

Cut it short.

You say here something about a letter.

One:
Who wrote it? Two: What's in it?

Three:
What's the War Office got to do with it?

Four:
I'll tell you. Five: Out.

One?

A girl wrote it from Berlin, sir. Edith Hunter.

She's a governess there.

Rather an uncomfortable billet just now.

That's just it. They hate us in Germany.

They're spreading propaganda all over Europe

that we're killing women and children

in South Africa,

starving them in camps,

shooting mothers, burning babies.

You wouldnt believe what they've invented.

Conan Doyle thinks

something ought to be done about it, too.

About what? And what's all this about a letter?

And who's Conan Doyle?

The author chap. Writes

the Sherlock Holmes stories in The Strand.

- This Doyle writes the Sherlock Holmes stories?

- Yes, sir.

CANDY:
Conan Doyle.

BETTERlDGE:
Never heard of him, but I've read

every Holmes story since they started in July '91.

- Reading The Hound Of The Baskervilles?

- That last instalment.

A bit of a facer for poor old Watson, sir.

"Lovely evening, my dear Watson.

I really think

you'll be more comfortable outside than in. '

Sarcastic devil, that fellow Holmes.

I once had a CO just like him.

He must be a rather good fellow as authors go.

He is collecting material about our campaign

in South Africa to counter German propaganda.

The Times printed an interview with me

about seven weeks ago.

Bad. A good rule to keep out of the newspapers.

Still, The Times is a bit different.

Yes, I suppose so.

In this interview, I mentioned a place

called Jordaan Siding.

I was there for seven months.

This girl writes that the worst stories of all

are being put about by a fellow called Kaunitz,

who says he saw with his own eyes

British soldiers kill 250 women and children

at Jordaan Siding in order to save feeding them.

- Do you know this fellow...Kaunitz?

- Of course, sir. He's the most awful little rat.

He was spying for us and the Boers.

He made South Africa

too hot for himself and skipped.

- Both sides would have shot him, if they could.

- What do you want me to do?

My leave isn't up for four weeks. Why shouldn't l

go to Berlin and confront this rat?

My dear boy.

First of all, it's not done.

This isn't Army business, it's Embassy.

Leave politics to the politicians.

You wouldn't like a diplomat

to come charging into the front line.

- It might do him a lot of good, sir.

- Juvenile nonsense.

Sorry, sir.

You were sent home in order to recuperate.

Your country needs you.

- Do you play golf?

- Yes, sir.

- What's your form?

- About ten, sir.

- Care for a game?

- Sorry, sir.

I'm invited by Lady Gilpin to Leicestershire.

BETTERlDGE:
Enjoyyourself.

- (Telephone rings)

Ml. Major Plumley.

- This author chap...

- Author chap, sir?

Fellow that wrote Hound Of The Baskervilles.

- Conan Doyle?

- Yes.

You didn't happen to ask him

- what happens in the next instalment?

- Just a moment.

Yes, sir. There's another murder.

- Not the baronet?

- No, sir. The baronet's safe.

Good. Good. I'm glad.

- Warm for January.

- Damn cold, I call it.

Take my tip, my boy. You've got

a damn good VC, now keep quiet for a bit, hm?

(Hopwell whistles "l Am Titania")

Well, what did he say?

Do you still want to go to the theatre tonight?

- You told me when I asked you...

- Never mind what I said.

Her Majesty's Theatre. The Last Of The Dandies.

Introduce yourself to Lady Gilpin and Sybil.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes