The Small Back Room Page #2

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- Not in anger.

Well, they move, don't they?

They crawl about. They-They zigzag.

- They don't like being shot at.

- You think the Reeve's is difficult to handle?

- Are you ready?

- I think the sort of chap we have to use...

- couldn't get a moving tank in his sights in a week.

- Firel

- Good man.

- Come on. I've seen enough.

Can't quite understand your outfit.

What do you call yourselves?

I don't think we call ourselves anything.

We're just Professor Mair's research section.

- Well, who do you come under?

- Nobody.

Professor Mair's got a lot of contacts, of course.

He's an old friend of the minister's.

I know that, but you haven't got

any establishment...

or terms of reference or anything...

anything old-fashioned like that?

Not as far as I know.

We just tackle any job we're given.

You know, this thing's spreading.

The country's crawling...

with this and that

chap's research outfit.

They don't belong to anybody.

They don't report to anybody.

- Do you?

- No.

No responsibility and lots of power.

It's not right, you know.

It's not right.

- Got any service personnel?

- Yes. A few.

I don't know how it's done.

Figures!

- Morning, Crowhurst.

- Morning, sir.

Morning, Mr. Rice, sir.

Mr. Waring's been agitating for you, sir.

Thank you, Sergeant Major.

Hello, Madeleine?

Hello, darling. Sammy's just got in.

No. No, it's hardly out of my way at all.

I'll get it. Yes, of course I will.

Till, will you stop that filthy row,

for Pete's sake. Hello, darling?

It's Till on that ghastly robot of his.

- There's an extraordinary thing here, Sammy.

- Really, darling?

- Has the Reeve's report come in yet?

- On your desk. Yes, darling.

Sammy.

- Yes?

- You know those penetration of armor plate figures that E.W.E. Sent us?

Yes.

Well, there's a positive correlation between

penetration and the height of each man firing.

Easy. The taller the man, the more rarefied

the atmosphere, and the less the air resistance.

- All right, darling.

- You think that might be it?

Would be if they hadn't all been lying down.

Oh, they were lying down, were they?

- Yes.

- Oh. How much do you want of it. Hmm?

- How on earth did you manage to get their heights anyway?

- Thought they might be interesting.

How do you spell it?

Spell it, darling.

Yes?

No, of course I've got time.

How was the Reeve's?

Oh, so-so.

Let's get the figures out, Tilly, and we'll see.

- I'd better have a complete analysis.

- Aha.

Sorry, darling. I must go now.

Tea's up. Bye.

Well, I'll be...

- What's the idea of the partition?

- Inner sanctum.

- "R.B. Waring" on the outer door. "State your

business to the secretary," et cetera.

- How'd he fiddle the permit?

- Don't ask me.

Is he inside?

With four telephones and furniture

to match and a third of my window.

Hmm.

Pretty mean.

Free for lunch?

- Busy day?

- You bet.

Not a moment has been wasted from

R.B. Waring's point of view.

- He'll be bagging a carpet next.

- He's got one.

Come in.

Oh, hello, Sammy. Want me?

No, but I've got to have you.

Well, you've gone very grand.

Well, I got fed up with

working off kitchen tables.

Look at the conditions you all

work under. It makes me wild.

Well, it was darn nice of you to get yourself

all this stuff for my sake... and Susan's.

Go on, you bitter old devil. You know

you don't care where you work, but the...

sales side has to impress people.

Our Sue will tell you that.

You'll be carrying an umbrella next.

You know, Sammy...

young Sue's a remarkable woman.

This is a beautiful job.

Beautiful.

But I need three copies at once.

One for the minister,

one to Professor Mair and one to me...

all marked "most secret,"and there's

a note to go with the minister's too.

As quick as you can.

How long will that take?

Three hours,

if I don't go to lunch.

Well, must you?

- Girls do eat.

- Well, can't you send out for something?

I tell you what I'll do.

I'll buy you some tulips for your desk.

- Yellow ones?

- Enormous yellow ones.

All right.

There's a good girl.

You see, Sammy?

Everybody's got a price.

Now tell me about the Reeve's.

Good show?

- Oh, moderately.

- What did you think of it?

- Till will need a few days on the figures.

- Oh, figures. How'd you like it?

- Plenty of snags.

- Oh, it's not perfect yet. Needs cleaning up. That's easy.

- Holland took against it too.

- Well, luckily the thing's been sold above Holland's level.

- Sold?

- Yes, I made the old man take me round to see the minister, and I put it across to him.

- He's all steamed up.

- What'd you sell it to him on?

What the stars foretell for this week...

or just intuition?

- No, the idea's right.

- It may be, if the figures say what we want.

- They'll have to. After what I told his nibs.

- What do you mean they'll have to?

Now look here, Sammy.

Don't let yourself be impressed by soldiers.

I've noticed that whenever we disagree

with the military we're always right...

except that they have to use the stuff

and trust their lives to it and we don't.

Medals have an emotional appeal

for you, Sammy.

Now mark my words.

Nobody gets medals for having brains.

- Holland has brains.

- Oh.

- Ganglia. Antennae. I wouldn't put it higher than that.

- And he knows his job.

Oh, Lord, how sick I am of these people

who know their jobs.

Except you and me, Sammy.

Except you and me.

Look. Look.

Morning, Lascomb.

Hello, Dibley. How are you?

Morning. How are you?

- Morning, Mr. Pinker. Very well, thank you.

- Good. Waiter.

- Yes, sir?

- Is the saddle still on?

- Yes, sir.

- Right, I'll have it, and, uh...

oh, a thick soup,

pint of Hollistry, please.

- Very good, sir.

- Hello, Sammy.

Hello, Pinker. Sit down.

Well, how's everything going

with the back room boys?

- Have we won the war yet?

- Nobody tells me anything.

Well, I think I've made

a substantial contribution today.

- Godshall is going.

- You fired him.

Body was riddled with bullets.

You know, we need

a new permanent secretary.

Higgins is a dear good soul,

but there's a war on.

- Well, why don't you just fire him too?

- He's on the list.

I'm having a drink with, uh...

with the minister's principal

private secretary's cousin tomorrow.

I shall drop a little poison in his ear.

- Gangster stuff.

- No orchids. Master Higgins.

- That boy Waring.

- Well, what about him?

- Moving in very high society suddenly.

- Yes.

And old man Mair.

I hope he isn't going political.

That was a good outfit of yours

when it started.

Well, what's wrong with it now?

Is the Reeve's gun any good?

- What do you know about the Reeve's?

- I know Mair and Waring saw the minister about it.

I suppose you were under the table.

You'd be surprised.

Look. You like old Mair, don't you?

- Mmm.

- Yes.

- I'm very fond of him.

- Grand old man of science and all that.

But have you ever thought where your section

would be if there was a change of minister?

Why? Are you gonna have him fired too?

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