1:00:03
l give you golden whiskey, Scottish wine.
1:00:08
l give you a sight of some
very interesting African gentlemen...
1:00:11
whose heads shrunk in the wash.
1:00:15
l give you dark diamonds
of Elizabethan poetry...
1:00:19
set in the velvet of my melodious voice.
1:00:23
And all you do is sit
staring at that small mechanical instrument.
1:00:26
Please go away.
1:00:28
What is it, duchess? Are you cold?
1:00:32
ls that buttermilk flesh all frozen?
1:00:36
What, cold, my girl?
1:00:38
Some would be honored,
may l tell you that, by my touch?
1:00:42
There are those at the BBC who bear,
like medals...
1:00:46
bruises left by the love of Horatio Wilson.
1:00:52
ls that the patter of tiny feet...
1:00:55
or the great thumping boots of a constable?
1:01:02
Nothing yet, lm afraid. Nothing definite.
1:01:05
-lt will increase your melancholy--
-Who are you?
1:01:10
No autographs,
but you may touch my garment.
1:01:14
Andrews, take Mr. Wilson back to his flat,
will you?
1:01:17
ls this where we get police violence?
1:01:19
Go with Andrews, please.
lm afraid youll be disappointed.
1:01:22
All right. l was just about to go.
1:01:25
Good night, duchess.
1:01:30
Sorry that drunk pestered you.
Ever heard him read poetry?
1:01:35
lts like a Welsh parson
gargling in molasses.
1:01:37
Wheres Steven?
1:01:38
He had to get back to his office
for a little while. He wont be long.
1:01:43
-Looks as if you have a starved mouse.
-l tried to eat, but it made me sick.
1:01:49
lf you dont eat, youll just collapse.
1:01:52
That wont help Bunny, will it? Come along.
1:01:59
The poor nuns used to lash each other...