Yvonne: You know, from the way you talked about her in that story, I got the impression there was something about that Phoebe that turned you on. Next time we make love would you like me to pretend to be her?
Yvonne: Oh, go on! You can be Reg.
Gary: I've got to get back. Help catch him. Left to Reg Deadman, he won't be caught until he's deposed Churchill and married the Queen. Hey, what am I saying? It might be a woman.
Ron: Na. Spying's a man's job. Learning to live on your wits in a hostile environment. Marriage trains us for it.
Ron: You going like that?
Gary: Yeah. It's Sunday lunchtime at the local. It's more lager top than Lagerfeld.
Ron: The King's Head is the hottest vibe in Cricklewood come the Sabbath. It is packed tight with the hip posse who spend Saturday night on a dance trip.
Gary: Are we talking about the same King's Head that boasts a Boffo the Clown play area and free lemonade for the under sevens?
Ron: We should still legislate for the unexpected. We are two caballeros off the marital leash. We could easily be propositioned by a couple of nubile ladies...
Gary: Yeah, Ron...
Ron: And spend the afternoon being whisked around the Surrey countryside in an open-top cabriolet, ending up with a light champagne supper in some noted West End night spot.
Ron: Ah, I am armed
[pulls out a condom]
Ron: and we are dangerous.
Gary: Ron, Yvonne's coming with us.