[the British outpost at the Khyber Pass has been attacked] Lady Joan Ruff-Diamond: Oh! How awful! What can have happened ? Captain Keene: I don't like making guesses, but I wouldn't be surprised if there hadn't been a spot of foul play here. Missionary: Foul play? Look at them! Lying around like a lot of unwanted cocktail snacks! Private Jimmy Widdle: Ginger! Missionary: Who is? Private Jimmy Widdle: He is. Ginger, my mate. Sergeant-Major MacNutt: Private Hale ? Private Jimmy Widdle: Yes, Ginger Hale. Hello, Ginge. It's me, Jimmy. Your old mate, Jimmy Widdle. Private Ginger Hale: Jimmy? Is it you? My old mate? Private Jimmy Widdle: Ginge, mate! How do you feel? Private Ginger Hale: Oh, not so good. I think I've been wounded. Private Jimmy Widdle: Only here and there. Private Ginger Hale: Jimmy, I can trust you. Now, give it to me straight. Am I going to be all right? Private Jimmy Widdle: Of course not, Ginge mate. Private Ginger Hale: Eh? Private Jimmy Widdle: I said, "Of course not, Ginge mate." Private Ginger Hale: I'm not going to be all right? Private Jimmy Widdle: Well, how could you be, with half a dozen dirty great holes in you? You've had it. Private Ginger Hale: You're a bleeding fine mate, I must say. Private Jimmy Widdle: What do you mean? You asked me to give it to you straight. Private Ginger Hale: Yeah, but I didn't mean you to. You horrible little runt, you! Sergeant-Major MacNutt: That's enough! Widdle, you're a great little comfort to a dying man, aren't you? Now listen, Hale, it's Sergeant-Major MacNutt. What happened, lad? Private Ginger Hale: They attacked about a half-hour ago, Sir. Hundreds of them. [He belches] Private Ginger Hale: Burpas! They... they... oooh! [Hale faints. Sergeant-Major MacNutt shakes his head sadly] Private Jimmy Widdle: Oh, no! Ginge! Ginge, mate! I'm sorry, I... Poor old mate! [Widdle gently covers Hale's body with a greatcoat. Hale throws it off] Private Ginger Hale: That's right! Bleeding well suffocate me!
The Khasi of Kalabar
: [unimpressed by the Fakir's performance] Bring on the dancing girls. Get rid of this idiot! Bungdit Din: Fakir! Off! The Khasi of Kalabar: May the benevolence of the god Shivoo bring blessings on your house. Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond: And on yours. The Khasi of Kalabar: And may his wisdom bring success in all your undertakings. Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond: And in yours. The Khasi of Kalabar: And may his radiance light up your life. Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond: And up yours. Captain Keene: Fire at will! Brother Belcher: Poor old Will, why do they always fire at him? [Sergeant-Major MacNutt has knocked Captain Keene to the floor with the spear lodged in his back] Captain Keene: Sergeant-Major, report to the surgeon and get that thing taken out! Lady Joan Ruff-Diamond: [watching polo game] Ooh, I say! He did not 'alf crack that one, did he not? Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond: Dearest, if you can't express yourself in more elegant terms, kindly shut your cakehole The Khasi of Kalabar: [Lady Ruff Diamond has the photograph] I must take that with me now Lady Joan Ruff-Diamond: Then take me with it The Khasi of Kalabar: But what about your husband? Lady Joan Ruff-Diamond: Oh, we don't want him! The Khasi of Kalabar: Will he not be displeased that you come away with me? Lady Joan Ruff-Diamond: Oh, of course [tearful] Lady Joan Ruff-Diamond: My poor Sidney will be ever so upset! The Khasi of Kalabar: Oh, do not worry unduly, before many days he and the others will all be dead Lady Joan Ruff-Diamond: [happy] Oh well, that's alright then, innit! [after a servant rings a gong, in the style of the famous Rank Organisation logo] The Khasi of Kalabar: I do wish you wouldn't keep doing that. Rank stupidity! Sergeant-Major MacNutt: [on the subject of underwear] I am wearing them for sentimental reasons, sir. They were hand knitted by me mother Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond: I don't care if they were hand made by your father. Sergeant-Major MacNutt: Well he did do the flowers. The Khasi of Kalabar: They will die the death of a thousand cuts! Princess Jelhi: Oh! But that's horrible! The Khasi of Kalabar: Not at all my little desert flower, the British are used to cuts. Sir Sidney Ruff-Diamond:
[Watching a game of Polo in India, 1895]
Good shot! Well done, Phillip! He'll do well that boy, if he marries well... Lady Joan Ruff-Diamond: Oh dear! I seem to have got a little plastered! [the Khasi's soldiers are fleeing from the kilt-lifted Third Foot and Mouth regiment] The Khasi of Kalabar: What are you running from? There's nothing to be afraid of [turns to look at the exposed regiment] The Khasi of Kalabar: Ooh, I dunno though!