White Hunter Black Heart Page #4

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The old blocking and checking|throws them off.

They don't go in for that sort|of thing at all, you see.

Probably be lynched if they did.

We're not like you Americans.

Of course not.

- Oh, well done.|- Hell of a man, that boy. Hell of a man.

Where is the defense?!

What? What?|Watch it!

You all right?

Sh*t!

We found everything you wanted, John,|but it's bloody awful.

It's no place for a man to live.|It's the thickest jungle you've ever seen.

Looks pretty interesting, John.

There's a black-water river and a few huts.|At nighttime there are mosquitoes.

During the day it rains.|There are elephants, crocodiles, Pygmies.

- Lots of big game, is there?|- Antelope, buffalo.

We saw an elephant from the plane|with tusks right down to the ground.

Could you lay a plane on to take us there?

No problem.|When you thinking of going?

Pete?

If I can manage to keep the script simple,|two or three days.

Isn't this just swell...

...dining with a beautiful lady|right in the middle of Africa?

- Would you care for some more champagne?|- Yes, I would, rather.

Waiter, could you bring us another bottle|of champagne when you get the chance?

- Yes. Thank you, sir.|- Thank you.

You know,|you spoil those boys dreadfully.

Well, as good as they play soccer,|they should be spoiled.

They'll be impossible now|for five or six days.

I don't think so. I think they know|the difference between sport and real life.

- So, Mrs. MacGregor-|- Margaret, please.

Margaret.|Margaret, do you miss London?

Yes, I do, rather.

I don't miss London as much|as I miss the country.

Especially the winter, when you're out there|with the hounds and they have the scent...

- ... crossing a good bit of country.|- Oh, I do agree.

I'm not keen on London.

I had to live there during the war|and I got awfully fed up with it.

Well, I rather enjoyed it during the war.|The people behaved so magnificently.

They didn't all behave well.|You probably never left the West End.

Not true, not true.|I did a film about the London Blitz.

I was all over town.

Well, you can't have spent much time|in Soho, where I lived.

- Why do you say that, dear?|- I thought the people there were just horrid.

There are an awful lot of Jews|in that neighborhood.

- Mrs. MacGregor.|- Margaret.

Margaret.|I must warn you, I'm a Jew.

- You're not.|- I am.

- No.|- Yes.

- You're pulling my leg!|- No, I'm not pulling your leg, Margaret.

I'm a Jew.

I don't believe you.

I know I shouldn't say this, but...

...that was the one thing about which|I thought Hitler was absolutely right.

Now, Margaret, the man has|just got through warning you.

Because the Jews|in London were awful.

They ran the black market.|And they didn't go into the army.

And when they did,|they got themselves cushy jobs.

Of course, there were upper-class Jews,|but I'm not talking about them.

I'm talking about the kikes in Soho.

- The foreigners.|- Margaret. Margaret.

My grandparents were kikes.|My father and my mother were kikes.

- And I'm a kike.|- That's right, dear.

You're not going to tell me|that you're Jewish too?

No. Absolutely not, because that would be|a lie, and I wouldn't want to lie to you ever.

But I would like to tell you|a little story, though.

I love stories.

Well, you mustn't interrupt now, because|you're way too beautiful to interrupt people.

When I was in London|in the early '40s...

...I was dining one evening at the Savoy|with a rather select group of people...

...and sitting next to me was|a very beautiful lady, much like yourself.

- Now you're pulling my leg.|- Now, just listen, dear.

Well, we were dining and the bombs were|falling, and we were all talking about Hitler...

...and comparing him with Napoleon,|and we were all being really brilliant.

And then, suddenly,|this beautiful lady...

...she spoke up and said that was the thing|she didn't mind about Hitler...

...was the way he was treating|the Jews.

Well, we all started arguing with her,|of course.

Though, mind you, no one at the table|was Jewish. But she persisted.

Are you listening, honey?

Mustn't interrupt Daddy.

That's right.|You're way too beautiful for that.

Anyway, she went on to say that|that's how she felt about it...

...that if she had her way, she would kill|them all, burn them in ovens, like Hitler.

Well, we all sat there in silence.

Then finally, I leaned over to her and I said,|"Madam, I have dined...

...with some of the ugliest goddamn b*tches|in my time.

And I have dined with some of the|goddamndest ugly b*tches in this world.

But you, my dear,|are the ugliest b*tch of them all. "

Well, anyway, she got up to leave and she|tripped over a chair and fell on the floor.

And we all just sat there.|No one raised a hand to help her.

And finally when she picked herself up,|I said to her one more time:

"You, my dear, are the ugliest goddamn|b*tch I have ever dined with. "

Well, you know what happened?

The very next day, she reported me|to the American Embassy.

And they brought me in for reprimand.|And then when they investigated it...

...they found out that she was|a German agent. And they locked her up.

Isn't that amazing?

Why did you tell me that story?

I don't know.

It wasn't because I thought you|were a German agent, honey.

But I was tempted tonight|to say the very same thing to you.

I didn't want you to think|I had never said it before.

You, madam, are the-|Well, you know the rest.

- Care for some champagne, honey?|- No, thank you.

Pete?

Well, it's getting late.|I think I'd better go back to my room.

- Pete and I will accompany you.|- There's no need!

No bother at all.

Good night, Margaret.

Sorry, John.

I know you wanted to get laid.

That's all right, kid.

You can't help it if you're a kike.

He says, "Never mind the car keys.|Have you seen the car?"

- You clumsy oaf!|- Dimwit!

- Now look what you've done.|- I'm sorry, boss. I'm sorry.

Come here.

John, where you going?

Pick up that glass, boy.

Damn it, pick it up!

John.|What are you up to?

I just want to go talk|to Harry for a moment.

What happened here, Harry?

Well, the little black bastard spilled a drink|all over this gentleman.

- On purpose?|- Who knows? Black bastards.

Harry, I think you're a yellow, rotten,|sadistic son of a b*tch.

Now, Mr. Wilson...

...I don't have to take that kind|of talk from anyone.

That's right. You don't.

How about going outside|and trying to kick me around?

You're drunk, Mr. Wilson.

I am, but that doesn't change|the fact that you're yellow, Harry.

Bright yellow.

I'm not supposed to fight|with the guests, Mr. Wilson.

I'm not a guest tonight, you yellow bastard.|I happen to be an intruder.

Let's go.

What are you doing?|This doesn't make any sense.

If Mrs. MacGregor had been a man,|wouldn't you have knocked him on his ass?

Yes, I would have.|But this is different.

We fought the preliminary|for the kikes.

Now we're gonna fight|the main event for the n*ggers.

Go, Harry!

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