Gerald Draycott: Vivian tells me you're not staying, Wolfe.
Venetia: What do you mean, you're not staying?
Wolfe Lissner: Got to get back into town, love. I've got things to do. Listen, I'll take your car, OK. I'm sure someone will give you a lift back in the morning.
Gerald Draycott: Yes, I'm going back myself.
Wolfe Lissner: Got things to do, pet.
Venetia: You are a sod, Wolfe!
Wolfe Lissner: What can I do?
Gerald Draycott: What a shame. Still, I hope you'll enter into the spirit of things, Venetia.
Bob Matthews: I don't know what you're hoping to achieve, except perhaps an orgasm.
Vic Dakin: Don't be a burke all your life. Take a day off, Sergeant.
Bob Matthews: Inspector.
Vic Dakin: Oh it's come through, has it? That's nice. Bit more on your widow's pension.
Duncan: It's not our sort... It's not your sort... What I mean is... A bit of robbery these days, I mean, you can't tell.
Vic Dakin: We're being very erudite today, aren't we? Bit of blazing eloquence there.
Vic Dakin: No need to collect off Danny for a couple of weeks - reward initiative.
Barzun: Mr Dakin comes here for our excellent restaurant.
Bob Matthews: And to collect "the insurance".
Barzun: I don't quite follow you.
Bob Matthews: Bollocks, Mr Barzun!
Brown: I'm a clerk, and a clerk, Mr Bellamy, is nothing now. Oh just before the war he was important, he gave the orders, he was the one who could rise to 400 a year, little modest saloon by the time he was 40. Your working man stayed at 3 quid a week. Not now, and my wife knows it - she says to our kid, you won't be a failure like your father.
Vic Dakin: Sounds like a right cow.
Henry: Big tough lads.
Frank Fletcher: From the local rugby club.
Henry: Yeah, well they'll be short on Saturday.
Vic Dakin: Fancy living here.
Webb: Nice and quiet.
Vic Dakin: Stupid punters. Telly all the week, screw the wife Saturday.
Frank Fletcher: It's not our game, is it Vic. We're playing away.
Vic Dakin: Go and make a phone call, Terry.
Terry: Who to?
Vic Dakin: Your fairy-sodding-godmother - I don't know.
Vic Dakin: Frank, Frank. We're the boys, aren't we? Aren't we the boys. Always have been, ever since we were kids. Hardly got off our mother's tit when we had 'em quaking down in Hackney.
Webb: Here's Benny now. He can tell you.
Duncan: He's only pulled. He's only pulled a bird. I'd give her one.
Vivian: Wolfe, I'm so glad you could come, how terrific.
Wolfe Lissner: Hello Vivian, this is Venetia.
Vivian: Hello Venetia. Well we're all drinking in here so do come on through. I do wish you'd been here last night Wolfe, some lovely faces came down.
Venetia: I know his face, don't I?
Wolfe Lissner: Should do, seen it often enough on telly. Stirring the conscience of the nation, he's an MP.
Venetia: Well he wouldn't get my vote.
Wolfe Lissner: It's not your *vote* he's after.
Venetia: Who's she?
Wolfe Lissner: Sssh. It's his gaffe. Only a marquis, isn't he. Influencing friends and making people.
[final scene: Vic Dakin has shot and killed Edgar Lowis because he thinks he has betrayed him. He tries to run but realises that the police have got the place surrounded so he walks up to Inspector Matthews and throws down his gun]
Bob Matthews: See them?
[camera shows shots of various onlookers]
Bob Matthews: And them. And them. You can't put the frighteners on *all* of them. Not all the time.
Vic Dakin: Why not?
Bob Matthews: You call 'em punters. We call 'em witnesses.
Vic Dakin: You know, if I looked at one of them, they'd piss in their pants. Because I'm Vic Dakin.
Bob Matthews: Used to be.
Vic Dakin: And who are you? What do *you* do? Keeping Britain clean on thirty quid a week. Respect! Respect! You don't know what it is. Unless you're Vic Dakin. Tell 'im, someone, tell 'im.
[no-one says anything to support Vic]
Vic Dakin: A hundred witnesses. But only twelve men on the jury. You remember that. Only twelve men on the jury.
[more shots of various onlookers and policemen, none of them looking scared]
Vic Dakin: [shouting] Who are you looking at?
[Vic has cut Benny's throat and left him dangling from a balcony. His blood starts to drip onto the pavement below and some falls on Vic as he leaves]
Vic Dakin: Bleeding pigeons.
Vic Dakin: Drinking, whoring, gambling, pathetic... pathetic... pathetic.
Duncan: That's a nice dog you got there, Ken. A friend had one like it. It got run over... a few times.
Bob Matthews: What about Thompson?
Detective Constable: He's still on the critical list.
Bob Matthews: Oh he'll live - just. But he'll live.
Tom Binney: Would Dakin be there himself?
Bob Matthews: *Be* there himself? He'd have *done* it himself. He'd have enjoyed it. He doesn't give a monkeys. Helps him to relax. D'you know what he does on a Sunday, Tom? If it's fine, he takes his mum down to Brighton. Walks round the seafront, up to the pier, buys a plate of whelks. Then drives home at thirty miles an hour so she doesn't get hiccups.
Tom Binney: Well, he can't be *all* bad, then, can he?
[Vic and his gang have kidnapped Edgar from hospital - which is exactly what the police were hoping they would do. Binney is tailing Vic who is going to see Edgar]
Tom Binney: [gleefully] I think it's going to be a lovely day.
[Vic's gang have kidnapped Edgar from hospital]
Vic Dakin: He doesn't seem glad to see us. I mean, there's no enthusiasm. We sprung you, didn't we? Aren't you glad to be out? I mean, where's your gratitude?
Edgar Lowis: I'm sick, Vic. They were going to operate.
Vic Dakin: *I'll* operate.
[Vic walks towards Edgar and opens his pyjama jacket]
Vic Dakin: If you don't tell me where that money is in ten seconds, I'll open you OUT!
Brown: I haven't said anything. I wouldn't. I mean, you've no worries from me - from this end.
Vic Dakin: I'm sure you haven't, Mr Brown. I just want to impress on you not to get too silly - not to do anything heroic.
Brown: You know me. No fear.
Vic Dakin: I just wanted to IMPRESS upon you.
[Vic punches Mr Brown in the stomach and then starts kicking him viciously]