Twisted Nerve Page #4

'when he speaks at

the banker's dinner. '

Nah... how about that!

'Wish him luck, he

may need it!'.

Fancy remembering that.

- Yeah.

- In that sweet of him?

Very. Very.

Well, I suppose I better

learn the damn thing!

- More coffee, Darling?

- Yes, please.

'Your Royal Highness... '

'My Lord, My Lord Mayor... '

Young man...

the library has been closed

for the last ten minutes.

- I know.

- Well then...

Rat face.

Eh... what was that?!

Get lost!

- Goodnight, Mr Groom.

- I...

Bye, bye.

Think he's taken a

liking to you.

Yes. He has.

I got you that

book on Paris.

Hi... sexpot!

Philip!

I was gonna 'phone

you this evening.

Then I saved you the

money. Jump in.

Why, what's on?

Come on, don't

waste time.

Judy and Mac

are waiting.

- What for?

- Us.

Why?

They want to talk

about tomorrow.

So long, buster.

Oh, Georgie...

I am sorry.

Here, take this.

See you later.

What did I understand you

to say to me in there?

I said...

- get... stuffed!

- Huh!

Who's the pretty boy?

Yes he is rather,

isn't he?

Fancy him?

Ha, ha!

This is the centre

of Paris, Georgie.

I expect your father...

would be staying in one of

these hotels around here.

Look, Georgie...

here's the

Champs-Elyses.

And there's the

Arc de Triomphe.

They built that after Napoleon

won all those battles.

And at the other end...

is the Place de

la Concorde...

and, err,

over here...

where is it?

Oh yes...

here, in Les Invalides...

is where they buried him.

- Georgie...

- Yes, Mummy?

Nine-thirty, Georgie.

Bedtime.

Oh.

And I'm gonna make

a cup of chocolate.

For me?

- If you want one.

- In bed?

Ha, ha! You're getting

spoiled, aren't you?

Goodnight.

Thought you might

like a cuppa.

Mmm, I would.

Medicine can be

rather dry stuff.

There you are then.

Thank you.

What's that?

I was just wondering.

- Goodnight.

- Goodnight.

Oh, it's you!

Having a race?

Winning?

Georgie always wins!

Good. Then come and

get your prize.

Now I lay me

down to sleep...

and pray the Lord

my soul to keep.

And if I die before

I w... wake...

I...

Pray the Lord

my soul to take.

Amen!

Don't spill it, will you?

Sweet dreams.

Hello, good evening,

from Manchester...

let's take a quick look

at some of the couples...

who'll be dancing

in this contest tonight...

between the North

and the South.

And first of all here,

couple number four...

the very popular

Martin Charles...

and his lovely

partner Barbara.

Now these two, they

were runners up last year...

so they must stand

a very good chance this time.

And that magnificent dress

that Barbara's wearing

(there's seventeen yards of

tulle in it, she tells me)

it's a combined effort of

Barbara and her Mum.

And I gather that Mum

sat up all night...

sewing on those hundreds

of sequins...

which set off the

whole ensemble.

Really quite something, I

think you'll agree.

Now then, let's watch

them for a moment...

as the contest opens

with... the waltz.

Susan!

It's Philip... quickly,

he's in a call box.

Damn!

Coming!

Bloody good speech H.D.

Never heard better!

Did you see the

Royal's face...

when I told the one about

the pony and the polo stick?

Did I? Everyone did!

Do you know

where I got it?

No?

My secretary.

Miss Pym?

Yes!

Sixty, if she's a day.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

How about that!

Here... here don't worry,

drop me at your place...

I can walk around

the corner.

- Sure?

- Quite.

Could do with a

spot of fresh air.

Right.

Thanks for the lift, H.D.

Great evening!

- Thanks again for the speech.

- Night, Tom.

- Goodnight.

- See you tomorrow.

Yes.

Hello, who's that?

Who is that?

That you, Johnson?

Guess again.

Oh, Martin.

You're back.

Well, what's happened...

you in trouble again?

I'm not.

Look, take that damn thing

out of my eyes, will you.

Here show me

the light switch.

Sure.

You are in trouble,

aren't you?

Come on, let's

get indoors.

Thought it was too

good to be true.

Hey! Dad!

Errrghh!

Ugh!

Argh!

Uh!

Err!

Ahh...

Uhh!

And how about...

that!

He, he, he...

01773268, Private

Henderson, Sir!

Alright girly...

I'm back.

Ready and willing.

Just hope I'm able.

You're late.

Please...

Hmm?

Gerry?

Who is it?!

Georgie!

What are you doing here?

Whad'ya want?

Bad men!

They bury Georgie

in the sand.

Couldn't breath!

It's alright.

It's alright, Georgie.

It's only a dream.

Quite safe now.

Mummy...

Georgie, you're burning!

Here...

You'll catch cold.

Lie still for a moment.

- Mmm...

- It's alright, it's alright...

Just lie still.

Joan?

Joan?!

Allo...

what's cooking?

Spot of the

dark meat, eh?

Joan!

Now then, Sue...

no hanky-panky in

the back seat!

You needn't worry, I shall

be in the front seat.

Well watch out for his hand

when he changes gear, then!

- Hi

- Ha, ha, ha.

Jump in.

Ah, good morning,

Mr Henderson.

Morning.

Most marvellous day,

is it not?

Yeah.

The night wasn't so

dusty either, was it?

The night?

What happened?

Eh?!

What happened?

Transcendental Meditation,

was it?

A little Yogi Pogi?

Or were you practicing all those

Oriental, spiritual exercises...

cross-legged on the floor?

Or 'somewhere'?!

Have you got her

on pot yet?

Pot?

Well, I'm sorry, I

don't think I understand.

You're a dark

one, you are.

Meaning what,

Mr Henderson?

Oh... no offence,

no offence.

No, no, I must say,

you had me fooled.

So you're getting a cut

off the joint as well, are you?

Cut off the joint?!

Come off it... from 'Lady

Bountiful' here.

Oh, Mr Henderson... I begin

to see what's on your mind!

It's not very gracious to

the lady concerned.

In any case, were

she like that...

I would like to

remind you that...

we Hindu's are forbidden

to eat cow.

Yours is just coming up

Mr Henderson.

Alright, love.

Mrs Harper's doing something

special for you son...

so sit down.

I wouldn't read that

if I was you.

Won't want to touch a

thing after that. Horrible!

Oh! Banker brutally

murdered.

'Henry Durnley found

stabbed'.

'Multiple stomach wounds'.

Banker, eh?

Well, that's closed

his account!

There's none of us safe these

days, if you ask me.

Not since they give

up hanging.

No, and we won't be

'til they bring it back either.

You mark my words!

Mind you, they say he might

be one of these...

oh, what do ya call 'em...

'Psychopratts'.

'Psychopaths', Mrs Clark?

That's it!

I don't give a damn what

his religion is... I'd top 'im!

But if he is a psychopath,

he's a very sick man.

Who says so?

I'll tell you something...

tha... that's an argument

that makes me sick!

What about... this, err...

Durnley chap. What about

feeling sorry for him then, eh?!

Look, of course I

feel sorry for him...

it's easy when

a man's dead.

It's easy when a man's blind

or deaf, or lost a limb.

You can see it.

But how about a man who

can feeling nothing for anyone...

except for himself?

Who doesn't know

what love is...

or pity, who has

no conscience.

Who's only feeling is

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