King Ralph (1991)
Phipps: Sir Cedric! Sir Cedric! Good news. We've finally found an heir!
Sir Cedric Willingham: That's wonderful, Duncan. Who is he?
Phipps: His name is Jones. Ralph Jones.
Sir Cedric Willingham: Is he everything we've hoped for?
Phipps: [embarrassed] Well. He has his strengths and his weaknesses. You see, he's
Sir Cedric Willingham: Quickly, Duncan! The strengths!
Hale: [Ralph has referred to Princess Anna as a 'fox'] I'm glad you find her so. Best wishes in your fox hunting.
King Gustav: Fox hunting? You like fox hunting, yes.
Ralph Jones: Well, I don't get out much lately. But I used to go out almost every evening. One club or another.
King Gustav: Really? That often? You must have collected several tails.
Ralph Jones: [shocked] Well, I admit I slept with a few. But I'm not like that anymore. Nowadays you can't be too careful. You don't know who they've been with.
King Gustav: No, I suppose not.
Ralph Jones: Yeah, once I got a steady girl, that put an end to it.
King Gustav: She did not like fox hunting?
Ralph Jones: Of course not! Anna's not into it, is she?
King Gustav: Oh, yes! She loves it! Most royals do.
Sir Cedric Willingham: It's I who should be thanking you. You showed me how to be a king.
Ralph Jones: Me? I was a lousy king.
Sir Cedric Willingham: On the contrary. You are a good and decent man, and you've acted honorably. I shall try to follow your example.
Ralph Jones: Thank you, Ced.
Sir Cedric Willingham: Your majesty, may I present the Sovereign King Mulamboa of Zambezi.
Ralph Jones: [seeing that the king is black, using a Eubonics dialect] Hey, homes! Whas happenin'! Gimme quintet, brother!
King Mulamboa: I do not comprehend, Your Majesty!
Ralph Jones: Uh, welcome, Your Majesty. On behalf of the people of the United Kingdom...
Ralph Jones: Uh, do you wanna go get a beer?
Lord Percival Graves: [after Ralph accuses Graves of undermining him] This is an OUTRAGE! A VILE piece of slander! I demand to know the source of these allegations!
Ralph Jones: We have the signed confession of a royal page, Gordon Halliwell, who worked with Lord Graves.
Lord Percival Graves: I know NO SUCH MAN!
Ralph Jones: And several cheques made out to the photographers who took the pictures, signed by Lord Graves. Whose fingerprints were also on the photographs.
Lord Percival Graves: So! I saw them at the ball!
Ralph Jones: And Scotland Yard found the negatives at his house this morning.
Lord Percival Graves: [realizes he's been caught] By what right can you order my arrest!
Ralph Jones: By the Treason Act of 1702 forbidding interference in the proper succesion of a monarch. Enacted by...
[pause, as he recites the Order of the Kings poem to himself]
Ralph Jones: William III!
various Members of Parliament: [staggered throughout Parliament as Lord Graves is escorted out by Scotland Yard] SHAME! SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!
Dysentery: [watching on TV] That's right! String him up! Wanker!
Sir Cedric Willingham: How's it going, Your Majesty?
Ralph Jones: Great. We've got nothing in common and she's got a voice like a tuba. If she had her way, we'd have sex on a bed of nails on national television. But at least the party stinks.
[reciting some rules of etiquette to Ralph on videotape]
Phipps: When in public, a royal personage must refrain from chewing gum, using profanity, picking his nose, scratching his p... p... p... p... private parts and staring down the bust lines of visiting female dignitaries.
Ralph Jones: What the hell! That's everything!
Ralph Jones: There's no problem that can't be ignored if we really put our minds to it.
Phipps: [after Ralph's odd meeting with King Mulamboa] I think he did pretty well, considering. It could have been much worse!
Sir Cedric Willingham: Yes, he could have exposed himself, I suppose...
Phipps: [phone rings, he picks it up] Yes?
Phipps: The Prime Minister for you, sir.
Sir Cedric Willingham: [picks up other phone] Good afternoon, Prime Minister. Yes... Oh really? Well it's a strange world we live in, sir. Yes, thank you. Good bye.
[hangs up, to Phipps]
Sir Cedric Willingham: The Prime Minister just spoke to King Mulamboa. The King said he couldn't remember when he'd had so much *fun*...
Phipps: [jumps up, overjoyed]
Sir Cedric Willingham: [almost hugs Phipps, then stops] Um, sherry?
Phipps: Yes, please...
Ralph Jones: Damn, I knew I was getting hosed over here.
[Cedric is leading Ralph through a portrait gallery]
Sir Cedric Willingham: That's George III. You may remember him. He was king during that little temper tantrum you call the Revolutionary War.
Ralph Jones: Sounds like sour grapes to me, Ced. After all, we did kick your ass.
Sir Cedric Willingham: The loss is entirely yours, or rather *theirs*, try to remember you're an Englishman now.
Ralph Jones: Okay, but I still think they kicked *our* ass.
Ralph Jones: Do you feel that being the king of a major nation is tougher than you thought?
King Mulamboa: Yes, it is difficult sometimes, what with the ceremonial duties and official obligations. But I'm quite pleased with the economic progress my country has made. We are hoping to be the first in Africa to market an automobile!
Ralph Jones: Oh really? I might be in the market myself soon. The Rolls just doesn't have that much "poop". This car gonna have fuel injection?
King Mulamboa: Oh yes, everything. Five-speed transmission, rack-and-pin steering...
Ralph Jones: Reclining buckets? Rear spoiler?
King Mulamboa: No, but it will get excellent gas mileage.
Ralph Jones: Gas mileage is fine, but keep in mind - the first question every car buyer asks themselves is 'Will this car get me laid?'
Sir Cedric Willingham: [whispers to Phipps] Beautifully stated...
Sir Cedric Willingham: It is far easier to whisper advice from cover than to risk its merit at the point of attack.
Sir Cedric Willingham: We'll put the velour industry on full standby.
Sir Cedric Willingham: It's not enough simply to be the king. You must look and act like one.
[a group of punks are watching the Royal funeral procession on tv. The lead punk notices his girlfriend is crying]
Dysentery: Since when do we give a toss about this kind of bullshit?
Punk Girl: Shut up, Dysentery! Where's your sense of national flipping pride?
Ralph Jones: How long do you think you're gonna be needing me? I've never held a job for more than six months.
Phipps: Well, you see, a king is a king for life.
Ralph Jones: Good, 'cause my schedule's wide open.
[Ralph is being measured for a suit]
Sir Cedric Willingham: Just a few quick questions to probe your knowledge of English history...
Ralph Jones: Fine.
Sir Cedric Willingham: When she failed to give him a son, Henry VIII had Anne Boleyn - ?
Ralph Jones: Look into adoption?
Sir Cedric Willingham: Beheaded.
Ralph Jones: Jeez, this is a tough country.
[a tailor approaches with a bolt of fine black material]
Tailor: Would this be to your liking, Your Majesty?
Ralph Jones: You know, I kind of like that.
[points at a bolt of pale blue and beige striped material inlaid with an elaborate pattern]
Tailor: That's an upholstery fabric, Your Majesty.
Sir Cedric Willingham: The English people don't generally like their monarch to look like a sofa.