And the roast duck's for special customers, Doris!
Don't forget, it's off to everybody else.
They can have sweetbreads.
And the sweetbreads are off to the club bores.
They can have spaghetti from yesterday.
Oh, and Michael Crowley can't have anything.
(Doris ) You let him in last night, Christine.
Look, if you want to talk to me, Doris, come up.
I'm in agony with my rheumatism.
(Doris ) Shall I put these bits of cold cauliflower In the hors d'oeuvres?
Yes, and use up that fish that was sent back from last night.
Pour some vinegar on it, and a lot of pepper.
What do you mean, Christine, by going behind my back and telling cook
I've put the sweetbreads down as one and nine a pound when they're only one and six?
Don't shout at me, darling. You know that Hank's gone back to America.
I shall never see him again and I'm very upset.
- Oh, don't be such a fool, Christine! - Well, I am upset.
Now, come on, darling, get these into the barroom.
It must be seven o'clock already.
Oh.
(Chuckles ) Look.
There goes Fifi on her beat.
Do you know how many customers she had last night before closing time?
(Coughing) Twenty-five.
It's wicked when you come to think of it.
- They don't have to pay income tax. - (Doorbell ringing)
Oh, God, those bloody members with their tongues hanging out. Don't answer it.
- They know perfectly well what time we open. - (Man ) Hey! You open?
I think it's the GI sergeant that was in the other night.
Oh, what, that very sexy-looking one?
- That's him. - Oh, well. Oh, well, Butch can come in.
I'll answer it.
Look, let's just have the lights on.
Mm.
( # Instrumental version of La Vie En Rose playing)
(Cheerily) We're open!
(Keys rattling)
- Oh, hi, Butch! - Hi, Christine.
Come in, angel. I thought you'd deserted us.
Listen, remember the other night you were gonna fix me up with...
- Sign yourself in, angel. Book's by the door. - ..a couple of bottles of...
Yeah, but I don't have a lot of time, see? I gotta meet up with some guys.
I thought I'd take you up on that offer. Two quarts of Scotch.
What are you drinking, darling? A large Canadian rye?
- Yeah, OK. I guess so. - (Christine chuckling)
- Only I don't wanna stand these... - Sign yourself in, angel.
I don't wanna stand these guys up. There's a costume ball at the Victory Club...
When the police snoopers start snooping I could lose my licence.
Yeah, but I... Ah, OK, then.
Boy, were we mixing it up that night, remember?
- (Christine chuckles ) - After you closed the place.
Jesus, we must have...
Pissed as owls, darling.
(Both laughing)
Hey, where did you get to, by the way?
Oh, hey, now listen, Christine.
- Whoops. - For jeez' sake,
don't get the idea I ran out on you.
Now, listen, what are you drinking?
- Large Scotch. - And, hey, if you want to charge me
the full black-market price for them two quarts...
- (Doorbell rings ) - Oh! Excuse me, Butch.
(Butch sighs )
(Christine ) Now don't forget to sign yourselves in.
(People chattering)
Ooh, a doughboy! What a thrill!
Your first visit to our little club?
- Well, er... - Well, welcome, welcome to La Vie En Rose.
It really is divinely rosy
when you come in from outside, isn't it?
You know, I say this is as good as a real fire.
Better really, because it doesn't give out any heat.
- (Butch chuckles ) - My dear, I come here every night.
You see, I lost all my money in Singapore.
So now I live in an old tabby cat's boarding house in the Earls Court Road.
- Oh. - Julia, have you signed yourself in yet?
Darling, I always do it on the way out.
Christine, I'm not trying to make a big rush job out of this whiskey job.
- See, these guys... - If you vanish on me again
- I shall be very cross. - (Man ) Christine!
- Old pals of mine, Christine. - I'm coming.
- (Humming tune ) - Julia?
- You haven't seen Siegfried in the club? - Siegfried Sassoon?
No, of course not, darling, Siegfried Sassoon.
You know, Siegfried. He's a refugee. He's generally with...
Oh, the black-market man. Is that Siegfried Sassoon?
No, darling, I told you, Siegfried Shrager.
Well, to be perfectly honest with you, darling, I'm in the most horrible situation
and the only member club I can ask for help without any embarrassment is Siegfried Shrager.
- Who's Siegfried Sassoon, then? - Nobody, darling.
Not worth fussing about. Honestly, it's not.
- Are you Siegfried Sassoon? - Not as far as I know, dear.
On the other hand, I may be.
I'm quite sure, dear, I haven't seen him in the club.
Christine, darling, could I have a large Scotch?
- And would you mind if I... - Do you know what your bill comes to, Hugh?
Darling, it's only until the end of the week. Maybe tonight.
- The only thing is... - I'll tell you who I have seen in the club.
That rather tweaked-looking man. Oh, now, what is his name?
I'm sure you know him, dear. Hugh something-or-other. Artistic.
You don't mean Hugh Marriner?
Yes, that's it, dear. Novelist, don't you see?
Well, now, he wants to get hold of you, darling.
But watch your step. You know what I mean?
They say that he's one of those.
- But, Julia, darling, it's me. - Who is, dear?
I am. I am. Hugh Marriner is.
- Oh, my dear! - Can't you see it's me?
Oh, I'm so sorry. Oh, my dear.
Oh! Well, then, is Seymour Sassoon one of those?
- No, Julia, don't. - Oh, the truth is I can't remember
a thing nowadays, dear.
Not enough vitamins, that's the trouble. It's the rations.
Did I not tell you, Butch, my proud boast?
To hell with the old Windmill Theatre.
- Oh, darling, look after the bar, will you? - Darling...
- Certainly. - We never close.
Do you remember the advertisements?
Well, I never closed, either.
I started this club in 1940.
I felt there ought to be one bright spot in London
where servicemen and their friends could come and enjoy themselves
and forget what was going on outside.
But there's always something going on outside, isn't there?
We had a bomb on that side.
Christiney, darling, I've helped myself to a large Scotch.
- Make sure you put it down. - I am!
And we had a bomb across the road. Every night was like fireworks night.
But here we are, still standing.
I just went straight on sleeping on the top floor.
I have parties up there sometimes...
for my special members.
Look, Christine, these guys are counting on me.
Oh, do stop going on about those God-awful dreary bores!
One double rye for Butch, please.
And, oh, the usual for Julia.
Gin and French? There's one going begging.
Oh, Butch, take this drink to Miss Shillitoe, hmm?
- (Sighs ) - I bought you a drink, Julia.
Oh, angel saint, tweety!
Thrice sainted, sainty-pie!
Only for goodness' sake, Julia, do stop all that itchy-cooing.
The members will be leaving in droves.
Showing the white feather. They can't face the bombing.
The war's over!
Julia, in Europe the war is ov...
- She's getting scattier every day. - Every day in every way.
The trouble is she drinks.
Oh, hello, Ziggie.
(Doris ) Some hors d'oeuvres coming back.
Er, what are you drinking? Have you seen Elizabeth?
- (Christine ) No, she hasn't been in yet. - Oh, it's the black-market man.
My dear.
Siegfried Sassoon's looking for you.
- Oh, have you seen Elizabeth? - She hasn't been in yet.
- Ziggie, when I finish with... - What are you drinking?
Oh, thanks very much. Thanks awfully, Ziggie. I'll have a large Scotch with ginger ale.
- Come on, darling, what about our order? - Sorry, what was it?
- Double rye, and another double in mine. - Elizabeth, what happened?
- Where have you been since four o'clock? - # I've been home, home on the range
# In beige leis' at the Grange #
Adore it, Hughie, don't you?
- (Laughs ) - What are you drinking?
Ziggie, could you come back in the club room just for a minute?
(Liz ) Where's my Pimm's, Ziggie?
Butch, watch your step with that dark girl, Elizabeth Collier.
Not that I set myself up to judge other people's morals,
but I wouldn't let myself be kept by a black-market German called Ziggie.
- Ziggie's Austrian. - Oh, they all say they're Austrian.
(Ziggie ) A Pimm's please, Christine, for Elizabeth.
Come on, Butch!
I need a man about the bar. (Chuckles )
Oh, by the way, did I tell you, Hughie,
who's joined La Vie En Rose, trés distinguée? She's coming in tonight.
- My dear, RB Monody. - RB Monody? I shall have to go.
If I met that woman face-to-face I might kill her.
That sort of thing is not permitted in the club.
- I shall have to resign my membership. - You can't. You haven't paid your subscription.
Five years ago, that woman wrote a review of my collected short stories
that was so devastating I still haven't recovered to this day.
That bloody woman destroyed me.
For God's sake, darling, give me another drink.
Oh, no, have it with me, Hugh. What are you drinking?
Well, thanks awfully, Ziggie. Erm, large Scotch, please, with ginger ale.
- Ah, you wish to discuss something? - Yes, I do.
Erm, you see, well, it's simply...
Oh, have you finished Fabric Of A Vision yet?
- Ah. - What did you...?
I'll tell you the truth now, Hugh.
- I think it is wonderful. - (Chuckles ) Well, it is, isn't it? Of course it is.
- For instance, this... - Large Gordon's?
Oh, yes, this is me. This is on me, Christine.
There. This story, for example, about the apparent ill-assorted couple,
this story is me and Elizabeth.
Oh, yes.
I see how it could be, yes.
Well, how fascinating.
- (Sighs ) There. - Oh, thanks, Ziggie.
Give me a cigarette, would you? I've come out without.
Here, erm, take the whole packet.
- Oh, Ziggie, you sure? - Come on.
- Plenty more in my other pocket. - Are you sure?
So how much do you want?
What?
Oh, Ziggie, you are sweet. You really are. Erm...
Well, a hundred would give me breathing space.
But 200 would see me in the clear.
Erm, it would only be a matter of a couple of weeks.
You know Maurice Hussey who comes in here, the film director?
I'm selling a story to British Falcon, and we're having a meeting tonight, in fact,
to finalise it, as they say, so it would be an absolutely safe loan.
- Ziggie, I really am in a jam. - I'm afraid I must tell you...
You know Nigel is home for good now. He's been demobilised, thank God, at last.
But he's been taken up by this rich bitch character,
who we hope is going to put up the money for him to start up dress-designing again.
But the maddening thing about going around with women
is that one has to pay for them.
So poor old Ni had to come and ask me if I could help out for the time being.
We always share expenses 50-50, and settle up this quarter's bills.
I was overdrawn to the limit and I said that I could.
This afternoon Nigel came to me and said could I let him have the cheques
and they went off with the next post,
so there it is, I've got cheques out all over the place
and not a penny in the bank to meet them.
- Hugh, I was thinking... - The situation with Nigel and I,
if the cheques bounce, we've only gotten over the most appalling, hideous quarrel
about, you know, the way I live,
and, erm, coming home drunk every night as I'm supposed to,
and after which Nigel went for ten whole days
without exchanging a single word with me.
- Hugh... - So if you could, Ziggie, just manage 200,
- just for... - Hugh, I was thinking
it would be a matter not of 200 but of maybe £2
you wanted to see you through this evening.
- So it's out of the question? Not even 100? - Unfortunately I'm broke too.
But with pleasure I'll lend you £2 to see you through this evening.
- No, no, thanks awfully, Ziggie. - Come on now, take it.
- Take it. - No.
With nothing in your pocket, you'll never get £200.
Your business is doing badly I suppose?
It's not doing at all, Hugh.
In a small way, I started a toy manufacturer's
like what I had in Berlin here.
But, well, we cannot get the materials.
Elizabeth, she finds for me the financial backing for the firm.
Oh, ja.
And when I'm overdrawn too much,
Elizabeth lends me money.
Ziggie. Come on, let's get drunk!
- Two large Scotches, please! - What's that?
Two large Scotches with ginger ale and lovely lumps of ice.
- Please, darling. - It's lucky I'm in a good mood, darling.
Hugh, this fellow Nigel,
I know he's very charming, a good soldier in the war,
but he's no good for you.
He's wanting everything to be correct.
Look, why don't you break it up after...
Ziggie, Nigel and I have been together for more than nine years.
He's my home, Ziggie.
- He is, you know? Without Nigel, I... - (Woman ) Tell Hugh that his mother's here.
- (2nd woman ) I think he's in here. - Oh, God, that's sounds like...
Oh, God, I forgot.
- Hugh, darling, you have a visitor. - Thank you, darling.
Oh, Mummy, this is awful. I thought it was tomorrow.
- No... - Did Nigel bring you?
- He's just left me. - Did he go stumping off?
I think he's expecting that Lady Whatshername to cocktails.
Oh, God, this would happen. This would.
Er, Mummy, come in.
Ziggie, would you look after Mummy for a minute?
- I'll only be a minute or two. - Very excitable, isn't he?
I do so hope he isn't overdoing it at that Ministry of Information.
Siegfried Shrager. Won't you take a seat, please, Mrs Marriner?
- Thank you. - What are you drinking?
- That's very nice of you, but I don't... - Please now, I insist.
Well, perhaps just a small cocktail.
A gin and French, please, Christine.
So this is Hugh's club, La Vie En Rose.
How would you translate that exactly? The rosy life?
It's very charming here.
Ah, thank you, Christine.
In fact, after a nice big whisky or two
I can almost think I'm back in the good old days on the Continent.
Oh, yes, like that book. What was that called now?
Er, Maria Remarkable wrote that Do Be Quiet On The Western Front.
Oh! I beg your pardon.
Am I sitting on something?
- You're on my bag, dear. - Oh.
Only I was taking my egg ration home in it.
- Oh, good gracious. I'm so sorry. - Never mind.
- Is it broken? - Too many eggs, bad for the liver.
- Won't you sit? - Oh!
- Just look at that poor girl... - Your egg.
- What's going to happen about your egg? - Slaving away across the road.
You do know, don't you, dear,
that if the socialists get in
we shall all be hounded out into Piccadilly
to lurk about on corners offering our charms,
and that all that we shall be allowed to keep is five and a half percent.
- Julia, what are you talking about? - My dear, they're going to nationalise women.
The moment they come to power...
coal mines, women and cheese,
exactly the same as in Russia. They've been doing it there for years.
Nobody is going to force me into bed with Mr Attlee
or Sir Stafford Cripps.
- Oh, Hugh, look, you're all wet. - Mummy...
Oh, you are a naughty boy, go running out without your hat.
I can't understand why, after 25 years, you refuse to accept I never wear a hat.
Hugh, darling, could you please tell me where I could pay a visit...
- Do you want the ladies'? - Yes.
Oh, follow me.
Oh, Hugh, darling, mind my library book for me, will you, dear?
Mummy, no one's gonna steal it.
(Julia ) Come along, dear.
Nigel, you must listen to me just for a minute.
Ni, darling, all I want to say is...
please don't let's be like this. Please, please don't.
I can't bear it.
All this anger and mistrust, and your stumping off like that without a word.
I've had two drinks, that's all.
All right, then, three.
I'm not drunk.
Why?
But I told you the cheque will be all right.
Well, I'm sure she would. She'd lend you 2,000 if you asked for it.
You really would, tonight? But, darling, you don't want to ask her.
You'd hate asking her. And I've told you it isn't necessary.
- How much do you... - Hughie, dear old boy!
- Hello, Michael, erm... - We understand each other, Hughie, you and I.
- You're an artist, I'm an artist. - Michael, just a minute.
- True artists, you and I. - I was just trying to...
I don't paint, not any more, and you don't write.
You see, we know... they know now,
- but we know that any true artist's works... - If Christine comes down now...
..aren't meant to be wrenched into the common light of day.
- Michael. - They're here, old boy.
- Michael. - And here.
DH Lawrence, old boy. Look at Lawrence.
The police took away his paintings.
The Bishop of Balham held worldwide malediction services and cursed him in St Paul's.
- Michael, if Christine... - You and I, Hughie, we're true artists!
- We're not like these successful cheapjacks! - (Telephone rings )
- Michael. - Exhibinnanistic sods... What?
Good God, there's one of them on the telephone.
- That's my call. I've been waiting for it. - Just a moment, big chief bossybottom.
Or may I call you Maisie? Do me a favour, would you, darling, eh?
- Get stuffed! - Michael!
Nigel, I know. Nigel, don't go on.
Just listen to me for moment, will you?
All I want to say is about asking Victoria to lend you the money tonight,
the answer is don't ask her.
I tell you I've got the money.
Once and for all, no, don't.
Good. Well, that's settled?
Hugh, dear.
It's a bit awkward. That Miss Whatshername,
she seems to think we're having dinner together.
It's a bit difficult for me, Mummy. I've got an important business meeting later on.
Don't worry about me. Get on with your business appointment.
OK, well, do order anything you want
- and put it on my bill. - It's very nice here, isn't it?
It's quite homy.
Roast duck too.
If I'm gonna go to the goddamn costume ball I gotta get something inside me.
Lovely duck, we've got lovely duck.
- I'll get you some lovely duck. - Yeah, I think I'll get some
lovely duck inside me.
Cook, one very special duck!
(Door closes )
Butch?
Butch? Where's Butchy?
- He's gone. - Gone?
- Gone out? - (Michael coughing)
He went just a minute ago.
My God.
(Sighs ) Well, I've had just about enough of this.
Listen. Is everybody listening?
From now on, all American servicemen are barred from the club!
(Laughter)
Cook! Cook, cancel that very special duck!
Completely!
- (Slurring) Oh, God. - Michael, get out of here.
- (Coughs and laughs ) - Hugh, give me a hand.
What on earth were you doing letting him in?
- How could I stop him? - Excuse fingers, gracious lady.
- One lump or two? - Come on!
Take your bloody paws off me or I'll smash the bloody place down!
If you don't go, I'll call the police!
I'll call the police. You won't call the police!
- I'll call the police. - Come on, you don't even like the club.
Michael, be a good chap and go on.
Jesus Christ, look at that lot, eh?
What were they doing while I was rotting in a German prison camp, eh?
Sitting on their big fat bottoms, smoking Players,
and sucking up the booze, eh?
Now you're all right, old Hughie.
You've done your bit, battling with the bureaucrats at the MOI.
- Michael... - Don't you let them turf you out, old boy!
You risked your life to preserve these stinkers for prosperity.
- Michael, do be a good chap. - You take all the drink you want.
- OK, OK. - Come on, let's leave them.
- Let's go. - Hey, wait a minute.
- Suit yourself. - Michael.
- (Hugh) Dear old boy. - Oh, Sammy.
Honeybun, come on.
I need a man about the club.
(Michael) Oh, what a pity.
Come along, Hughsie-poosie.
(Michael) The other fandangles...
(Sighs )
(Chuckles ) The battered warrior.
All those campaigns at the MOI.
(Chuckles ) Christine, get Sergeant Marriner a Pimm's.
Thank you, Maurice. Maurice, could we sit in a corner for a bit?
Look here. We could grab these two.
- No. - God, what am I doing in this place?
Who is that, hmm?
- Who is that? - The Treacle Queen.
(Laughs ) Who?
Lettice Willis... Lady Lettice Willis actually.
But who is she? Who is she?
She's got some terrible millionaire father, self-made in treacle.
(Laughs ) Lord Bermondsey or something.
Oh, well, I'm mad about her.
She's so camp.
Oh, Hughsie, let's get drunk tonight, huh?
All right, but first I must know what's happening with my story.
Have British Falcon approved the subject yet?
- No, no. - Have you read it yourself?
I'm ever so sorry I'm late, Maurice.
I've been waiting 20 minutes for a 14 at Parsons Green bus stop.
There was nothing but 22s, 22s, 22s.
I was going frantic. In the end I thought
the only thing to do was get on the next 22 that came -
unless it did happen to be a 14, which it didn't -
take it as far as Walham Green and change onto the tube.
As soon as I sat down on this bastard 22 then it started crawling.
- It crawled and it crawled and it crawled. - And it crawled.
All the way to Walham Green. And on top of that, insult to injury,
every time I looked out the window there were these sodding 14s swirling by,
one after the other, like camels on the horizon in the garden of Allah.
This, believe it or not, Hugh,
is my secretary.
Cyril Clatworthy.
If he didn't put so much slap on his face,
he wouldn't look quite so unprepossessing.
I've arranged for the car to fetch you round about eleven, Maurice.
Now, Cyril, will you do as I tell you?
Pick up these glasses, get them filled with drink
and be quick ''abaaht'' it.
- Shall I take this, Mr Marriner? - No, no, no, I'll get them.
- A small ''staaht''.
What he wants is a small staaht.
- Can I have a gin and orange, please? - Certainly.
I don't know why you go to such trouble to humiliate me, Maurice.
You lower yourself by it, not me.
Oh, how Joan of Arc.
You needn't think you'll get cast as Joan of Arc
by rolling your eyes up and looking noble.
Have you read that story of Mr Marriner's for me yet?
Or have you been too busy trying on your false eyelashes?
I have read it, as it happens.
And anyway, they don't suit me.
- Is it any good for film? - (Sighs )
It would make quite a good film, Maurice.
There's a lovely part in it for Margaret Lockwood.
- And Stewart Granger could play the boy. - Oh.
And there's this marvellous scene where he's in the auxiliary fire service
during the Blitz, and he's on his way to save St Paul's
and he passes his own house on fire and he's not allowed to get out
and do anything to help, and he thinks Margaret Lockwood's inside.
Don't let Mr Marriner know I haven't read it.
Of course not, Maurice, not if you don't want me to.
He wouldn't understand. I'm too busy.
I'm practically on the verge of nervous exhaustion.
Now, Cyril, get up and go into the bar.
I want to talk to Mr Marriner.
And if Mr Garry Fitzpatrick should come in without my noticing,
come and tell me at once.
- Garry Fitzpatrick? Isn't that the, erm... - Mmmm-hm!
Gorgeous Garry.
Bloody little tease, but what a cup.
Now, Maurice, for goodness' sake, don't go getting yourself involved with...
Nobody asked you, Clatworthy, to poke that heavily powdered nose...
- Someone's got to look after you. - (Growls)
I mean, honestly, Mr Marriner, that Garry,
he gets some infatuated American colonel to set him up in Claridge's...
I told you to go into the bar.
Now get ''aaht''. Aaht, aaht.
You needn't sneer at my accent, Maurice.
I dare say yours wasn't so wonderful once.
Ooh...Madam Clatworthy is suffering from téte montée.
Sorry to keep on, Maurice, but have you read it yet?
Hughie, I sat up half the night reading it.
I don't pretend it's on a level with my real work.
One thing that struck me rather forcibly...
there was a certain... old-fashioned quality.
- Old-fashioned? - It was only here and there.
Nothing that can't be fixed.
And there are some lovely things in it.
I mean, that scene where he goes tearing by in the Blitz,
sees his own house on fire with his wife inside.
I mean, that's very, very moving.
- I can see exactly how I'll put that on screen. - Oh, well, thank God.
Have British Falcon approved it?
- Oh, Rank's reading it now. - But, Maurice, what if he doesn't like it?
Arthur will take my word for it.
But you see, Maurice, the thing is, I was rather hoping to have the contract fixed by tomorrow.
I was relying on an advance by the end of the week.
- So can you... - Just a minute, Hugh.
Just a minute.
Er, erm, hello, there!
- America! - Are you talking to me?
Mm! Come over here.
I'm OK where I am, thanks.
(Sighs )
Have you ever thought of acting for the movies?
(Chuckles ) Are you kidding?
Turn around, America. Let's see your profile.
What sort of figure do you have?
You oughta watch out. If I was the intolerant type...
This is Maurice Hussey, the film director.
Yeah? Well, I don't have any censoriousness about that type of experience.
The idea of it bores me, that's all.
And the idea of becoming a film star,
I suppose that equally bores you.
Well, I don't know.
You'd better do a test for me next week.
Well, what sort of picture is it?
Is it a propaganda short or something?
It only happens to be the most important picture now being made in British studios.
Yeah? OK, then.
- What did you say your name was? - Maurice Hussey.
I'm glad to know you, Maurice. Sam Mitchum.
Sam Mitchum.
Now this is someone I want you to treat with great respect.
Sam, meet the English Katherine Mansfield.
- Oh, Maurice, do shut up. - Glad to know you, sir.
Say, do either of you guys know that girl there?
She was here last time I came in.
Liz? Liz, I'd like you to meet Sam Mitchum. He's so keen to meet you.
I couldn't be more flattered.
That's very nice of you, Miss, er...
- Collier, Elizabeth Collier. - Would you like to have a drink
- with me, Miss Collier? - Oh, darling, drop the Miss Collier.
A gin, please.
You and your boyfriend Siegfried had better go up
if you want anything, Elizabeth. The duck's off.
Do shut up, darling. We're just going up.
Oh, why don't you join us?
Well, thanks, Elizabeth. I'd like that very much.
A gin, please.
- So how long are you on leave for? - Well, indefinite.
- Oh. - I'm waiting to be drafted home.
And what will you do then? Go back to your old job?
No, you see I was at college before the war.
- Er... Oh, thanks. - That's one and nine.
So you're going up to dinner, Elizabeth?
I couldn't be more ravenous. Isn't it maddening the duck's off?
This is Sam Mitchum.
- Siegfried Shrager. - Glad to know you.
- Pleased. - Shall we take our drinks up?
Just a minute, America!
Don't become so stupefied with calf love you forget about the test.
Oh, yeah, the test. OK, Maurice, I'll think about it, let you know.
- Maurice, what else... - Cheeky little bastard, isn't he?
- What a cup, huh? - Maurice, what I was saying just now,
I'd better tell you quickly.
Say, Elizabeth just told me you're Hugh Marriner.
- Yes. - You wrote The Fabric Of A Vision, right?
- Have you read it? - Why certainly I have, Mr Marriner.
You see, I aim to be a writer myself, and that book has had quite a big influence on me.
Good heavens, really? Oh, I thought it was hardly known in America.
- How did you come across it? - Christine has it.
She lent me a copy. But there's some great stuff in it, Mr Marriner.
Yes, there is, isn't there? I mean, I...I think there is.
A guy in the shop said you hadn't had anything out for four or five years now.
What happened?
Would you pardon me a moment?
Maurice, listen, can you lend me some money?
I won't bore you with details, but a bloody awful jam, and I need it.
- How much do you want? - Well, 150 would give me breathing space.
But 200 would see me in the clear.
You can have £200 whenever you like.
Oh, thank God. And thank you, Maurice. You really have saved my life. I can't tell you.
Say, here it is. Christine says I can keep it.
Would you sign it for me, Mr Marriner?
I'll put ''with love'' if you like, with the greatest of pleasure.
Thanks, that will be just fine.
- He's there. - Who is?
- That Garry. - If you mean Mr Fitzpatrick,
tell him I'm waiting for him in here.
He says if you want to speak to him you can go in there.
My God, just because he lives at Claridge's
and speaks to Korda and Pascal in the lift...
Hello, Miss Foskett. You got my message that Miss Monody was dining here?
Yes, I have a steak for her.
Erm, come in, Miss Monody.
Would you care to go up to the dining room or have an apéritif first?
(Chuckles ) Well...
Charming little place you have here.
Charming. I told several of my friends
about your delightful little club, Miss Foskett.
I beg your pardon.
Bill, move that chair from under the lamp.
I'll sit there.
- Good evening, Miss Monody. - Good evening, Hussey.
Saw one of your films the other day.
The heroine was a goose,
talked an unconscionable load of guff.
Don't stand behind me, Bill. I can't stand people standing behind me.
- What will you drink, RB, darling? - Well, see...
see if they've got some decent sherry.
No muck, mind.
- Don't you bring me any muck. - (Chuckles )
You know that story of yours
where the young guy sees himself in the mirror
and he kind of realises he can't prove that anybody is real except himself,
and he doesn't know who the hell he is anyway or why?
Well, that's a feeling I'm very well acquainted with.
I'm trying to work it out in a book, as a matter of fact. I've got it with me...
as much as I've done.
Well, it's autobiographical mostly, you know.
What I felt going on raid, seeing guys killed, all that sort of thing.
Oh, yes, yes, oh, yes.
You wouldn't glance through it, would you, Mr Marriner?
Thank you very much, Sam. I look forward to it.
Thanks a lot, Mr Marriner. Well, I'd better be going up.
There you are, Hugh.
You did say 200, didn't you?
Oh, Maurice, yes, I did. Thank you so much.
Well, you're in the money now.
You won't be able to say you can't afford to buy us all a large whisky.
- I can see ya! - (Maurice ) Oh! (Laughs )
And God can see ya!
God is not mocked.
Jesus Christ was born on Boxing Day.
- (Laughter) - Join the British Bible Boxing Day Believers!
- (More laughter) - Push off, Madge, for heaven's sake!
You're an hour late for Hyde Park already!
Would any of you like a leaflet?
My dear, I'd adore a leaflet.
Give them out, would you, dear? There's a dear.
There's all the facts how our glorious faith of BBBD believing
- was revealed to our beloved founder... - Go on, Madge! We've had enough of you!
Take your leaflets and go, or we should complain about you to the police!
- Faggots! - (Laughter)
Brands for burning!
You can laugh. You can go on laughing.
But don't forget, my friends,
the worms are waiting.
Numbers will be up. Your number will be up.
- Your number will be up! - Get going, Madge! Get out!
Your number will be up! Your number will be up!
My dear, she looked divine in that hat!
''Your number will be up! Your number will be up!''
- Ducky, come and have a drink with me. - Yes!
Tell me, what's this divinely cruel imitation of Christine
- that I hear you do. - (Man ) Yes, Maurice!
- No, no, no! - Christine.
(Lively chatter)
I'll get an apron from Doris.
Nigel, look, quickly, some good news.
I've sold a film story.
It'll mean at least £2,000.
Well, of course it's settled. I've got an advance.
Maurice Hussey.
Ni, listen, don't ring off.
Just for a minute, look, couldn't you come and meet me somewhere
and we could sort of forget everything for tonight
and, you know, have a drink and celebrate, or...
Yes, I know, that's what you always say.
I don't see in coming to Vie En Rose that I'm escaping from reality
any more than you are going with Victoria to the Caprice.
Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I'll ring off, then.
I'm sorry. I had no idea she was with you.
I'll ring off.
It all depends on what you mean by reality.
(Laughter)
''It's the loveliest club in London.''
- Oh, too heavenly. - ''Oh, my members! My staff, angel!
''I must have a man behind the bar!''
(Laughter)
(Man ) It's Christine, it is!
Oh, Hughie, I feel so gay all of a sudden!
I don't care about anything.
I feel as gay as a lark.
Oh!
It's the best club in London.
I love my members, and they all love me.
Drinks all round!
Double, treble, of the rebel!
# Every morning, every evening, ain't we got fun?
# Every morning, every evening
- # Ain't we got fun? - (Christine ) # No money
# Out of money, oh but, honey, ain't we got fun?
# The rent's unpaid, dear
# Don't have a thing But dreams were made here
# But we have you, you
# Ain't got money, la la la la la
- # Ain't we got fun? - (Woman yelling)
# We ain't got money, oh, but, honey, ain't we got fun? #
The bar's closed and the club's closed.
The club is closed!
What ill-mannered bastard swiped my bag?!
That's what comes of being seen dead in a place like this.
(Chatter)
- Night, darling. - Good night, my darling.
(Indistinct chatter)
Yes, no problem.
Hughie, close the door and open up the bar again.
(Hugh) Bye, now. Night, night, night.
# Every morning, every evening
# Ain't we... #
Here are the keys, darling.
Mine's a large Scotch, and help yourself.
I wonder how many dud cheques I've been given tonight.
Whoops!
- (Car engine starts ) - I shall start crying soon.
You won't mind if I cry, will you?
Oh, I say, no, don't take any notice of me.
Christine, darling, can you never enjoy yourself without tears?
I'm very miserable. My poor Hank's gone back to America.
(Sobs ) He's gone back to that hideous wife and left me all alone.
Hughsie-poosie, I'm drunk.
(Coughs ) And that bloody Garry's gone off without me.
All my members must love each other!
- (Groans ) - What'll you have, darling?
- Anything, anything. - Democracy?
You're voting Labour, I suppose.
- (Chuckles ) - I've got a car waiting outside,
and I can't drop anybody anywhere.
(Laughs )
A temporary gentleman, I presume.
The good lady's had a drop too much.
The Treacle Queen.
The camp of it all.
- I say, are you waiting for someone? - Not exactly, no.
I came with a message for Miss Elizabeth Collier, but I missed her, unfortunately.
I'll be seeing Liz tomorrow. Can I give a message from you?
That's frightfully kind of you, but...
Well, it's from a friend of hers in Germany. I promised to deliver it personally.
It'd better wait till I pass through in a fortnight.
- Have you just got back from Germany? - Yes, yes, I got in last night.
Did you see any of the horror camps?
- Were they as... - Ghastly. Perfectly ghastly.
Somebody minced up to me the other day and said,
''I couldn't sleep all night for thinking of that ghastly horror camp.''
I thought he meant Cyril Clatworthy.
(Chuckling)
So, everything one read in the papers,
- it wasn't as if they... - You've no idea.
In fact, Miss Collier's friend was one of the people we liberated.
Of course, no one can have the remotest conception
of the condition they were in. They scarcely seemed human,
quite literally skeletons, fleshless,
skin hanging from their bones.
But her brain was still ticking over all right.
And when a few weeks later I went to check up on her,
she made me promise to look Miss Collier up in London.
When I went to say goodbye, it was too late.
She had died just the day before.
Come on, you all-night club queen, what about those drinks?
- I'm coming! - (Maurice ) Mm!
Now, Hughie, there's a double.
- Thank you, darling. - For you... No!
Er, this is for the new member.
- This is on me. - I say, let me pay for it.
No, you can't, because you're not a member.
You'll get my licence taken away.
That's very kind of you. Very kind, indeed. Cheers.
Now, Maurice...
- is going to buy me a treble whisky! - (Groans )
- Aren't you, poppet? - Come on, hurry up with mine!
- I'm going off the boil! - Uh-oh.
Have I done something wrong?
- Not with me you haven't, dear. - Oh, but I am very upset.
You know that hideous wife that Hank married that he's gone back to?
Well, nobody can say that I am narrow-minded,
but I've just found out that she's his sister.
- What? - Should I report it to the Pope?
Who told you? Who told you she was his sister?
Something that's always told me...
- a little bird. - Is that my double Scotch?
Yes, and this is my treble Scotch!
It's a great life as long as you don't pick it!
- Poops to everybody! - Cheers.
- (Groans ) - So when are you back in town?
I'm over here for the next fortnight, then I'm going out east to India.
Oh, God, I wish I was going to India.
It's no new experience, I was born there.
Now, you two gorgeous products of the British class system...
Oh, Hughsie, you haven't got any.
- Maurice, don't go mad. - (Christine giggles )
- I don't wanna get paralytic. - Oh, stop worrying
about what Nigel's going to say.
Dreary old sourpuss.
- (Guffaws ) - You know nothing about him.
''Dreary sourpuss''? Because it matters to him what I'm doing in my life?
Ducky, a tiny word in your dainty ear.
- Yeah? - I've just seen Garry Fitzpatrick.
- Oh? - The Yank has left him.
If I tell you how to make yourself popular with him
will you lend me £20 when my allowance runs out?
It's my stinking parents, ducky.
I mean, £40 a month to keep away from them.
One can't live like that unless one's friends help out.
I'd do anything to help you, Lettice.
Now, look, Garry's got this story that he wants to sell to British Falcon
- and direct it himself. - Well...
suppose I go round to Claridge's and have a conference with him, huh?
I'll take you.
We'll have a little sip with him and then I'll leave you to it.
My dear, what a cup.
I could do with a slice of that myself.
(Doris ) Michael, who let you in?
- My hand, all bloody and stinking... - Come on, Michael.
- ..from a new-mown corpse. - Everyone else has gone home.
- Doris, what are you doing... - (Sobbing)
..making Michael cry like this?
Michael and I understand each other.
I will not have him turned out of the club when he's crying.
Oh, give me a drink, old girl.
For the love of Christ, just a lovely little double, old darling.
Oh, good God, look at this. Look at thi... Look!
Do you want the club closed down?
Look at this! Not a blind down!
Not a... Oh! Not a curtain drawn!
And all the bloody members drinking themselves to death or the like.
Don't always pick on me, Christine!
- Do you want my licence taken away? - Don't be such a fool!
- (Moaning) - Michael, that was my drink.
That was my drink! That was my drink, Michael!
What do you want me to do? Sick it up?
It is not permitted in the club to be disgusting.
- Go to hell! - You go to hell.
Go on, get to hell, the lot of you!
Trying to make me... Go to hell!
- You go to hell. - (Grumbles )
- Go. - Go to hell!
- Get out. - Go to...
Go.
Miss Foskett, could you give Miss Monody a liqueur while she's waiting?
- Have you any Cointreau? - Bottles of it, darling.
Oh, good-oh!
Ducky, I thought we were going to Claridge's.
What time do you make it?
A gentlemen gave me that for arranging a flagellation party.
- Car's here, Maurice. - And how did you get here?
He gave me a lift in it.
And who said you could have free transport, hmm?
And take that pout off your face. I'm bored with you.
I'm going to Claridge's with Lady Lettice.
You can go and stay at your aunt's greengrocer's shop in Parsons Green.
Piss-begotten bastard and clapped-out whore! (Coughs )
(Cyril) Never in my life have I been served like this.
Not by anybody! And the language!
All the time I was in the army,
I never heard one of them come out with nothing could hold a candle
to what comes out of Maurice Hussey's lips for disgusting filth.
I could sit down and weep when I think what I had then and what I've got now.
Lovely boys they were. Smashing fellows.
Used to loot the palazzos for me.
Got me some lovely bits of drag.
I was quite well known with our boys in Italy.
Clarissa.
Everybody had heard of me.
Oh, well. Dreams can't last forever, I suppose.
Do you mind if I ask you a question, Miss Monody?
(Sighs )
Arrivederci, all.
Do you mind if I ask you a question, Miss Monody?
When you're writing a really appalling notice,
condemning and belittling somebody's work,
do you get some kind of kick
out of imagining the writer's face when he reads it?
Or do you just dash the notice off
and the thought never enters your head that it's a fellow human being?
Or even perhaps a creative artist
who is to be...
publicly humiliated by you the following Sunday?
Do you never stop and ask yourself what right you have
to risk extinguishing the maybe small,
maybe not-very-steady flame of some aspiring writer's talent
when you've scarcely troubled to glance at his work,
as you would do if you thought there was any intellectual snob value
attached to the author's name?
Did you ever read, Miss Monody, what your late lamented predecessor
said about my second book when I was 20?
That it might have been found amongst the papers
of one of the great Russian masters after his death.
And other critics, too, felt very much the same.
So I must have had something, mustn't I...
for some people?
Even, perhaps, for English literature?
A certain way of seeing life,
a certain individual talent,
a certain amount of achievement even.
My only real life, I might tell you, Miss Monody,
was as a writer,
as a creative artist.
But all that is finished.
I am nothing. Nothing!
- (Man grumbling) - Less than nothing!
My books are out print, forgotten.
- (Man ) Oh. - My name means nothing
to anybody any more.
- (Man ) Meh, meh, meh, meh. - You must be very proud, Miss Monody,
to have this first-hand conformation of how godlike are your powers...
- He's nothing! - ..and most gratified indeed
- to think how splendidly you use them! - (Man ) Naa, naa, naa, naa, nag.
- (Laughs ) Me, me, me. - You bastard.
- (Hugh) You filthy, foul, stinking, shitting... - (Coughing)
I say, what was all that about?
Some stuff and nonsense.
I think he wanted an introduction to Somerset Maugham.
Oh, bad show.
- The car's here, RB. Are you ready? - Thanks.
Every time we go out, you make the same kind of farlardypoo
- simply because I asked him... - Eliz...
..to come with us to the Nuthouse.
You suggested going there. I didn't suggest it.
You'd better go together.
- I'm going to bed. - (Butch) Hey, what goes on here, hmm?
Big dyke's night in the old club, eh?
(Hoots ) Jesus! (Mimics bugle )
- (Laughs ) - (Christine ) Oh.
Oh, Butch!
Angel darling!
I knew you'd come back to me.
- Why didn't you wait? - I gotta get me a piece of ass.
All the Scotch in the world, darling.
I suppose you think, Elizabeth, I'd be too plastered to notice
when you hide in the kitchen and come up when the club is closed.
- Do I? - Where's Sam?
I believe he's down in the kitchen, eating cold spaghetti.
Oh, why don't you leave that boy alone?
What do you mean, darling?
It's my duty to protect my young servicemen.
They need protection, and I'm here to protect them.
(Laughing)
It isn't true. It isn't true.
Hey, fireball, come here, listen.
She let us go upstairs here?
- I gotta get me a piece of ass. - (Laughing)
- (Chuckles ) - It's too, too...
too divine. (Laughs )
You see how these bloody members treat me?
You wouldn't treat me like that, would you, honeybun?
I've kept the Scotch for you.
- (Butch sniggering) - Is, er... Is my lip bleeding?
No, it's all right. It's all right.
Oh dear, oh dear. Things that drink leads one into.
But on the other hand, as Ouspensky says,
a drunk man in a pub
who suddenly embraces his neighbour and then stands drinks all round
is nearer to the truth of things as they really are, to reality,
than any thin-lipped puritan will ever be.
Do you know that feeling? When you're in a crowd of people
and everybody shouting and drinking
and nobody listening,
and all at once it's as if you were drowned
in a wave of love and understanding,
and for a split second you find your true identity,
that your real self is at one
with everything that lives and breathes,
that is.
Hey, Ziggie, where did Liz get to?
I didn't want to interfere while she was bawling you out.
She's gone, but she will be back.
I say, excuse me. Is Liz Miss Collier?
- You were waiting to see her? - Oh, damn it! I could have spoken to her.
Look, I must dash. I shall miss my train.
Tell her I'm frightfully sorry I missed her, would you,
and that I saw her friend Herta Zimmerman in Germany?
I'll telephone her in a fortnight's time on my way back to India.
- Goodbye. - Bye-bye.
(Sam ) Say, have you been to India before?
Did you meet any yogis out there? Real gurus?
Oh, rather. Yes. I'm quite pally with one of them actually, splendid chap.
You are? Did you learn much from him?
Well, look, any time you're in India, my part of the woods,
just give me a tinkle on the telephone
and I'll take you along to see him.
- Have a chat. - I think I'd like to take you up on that.
Douglas Eden, the name is. And you're, er...?
Sam Mitchum. Glad to know you, Doug.
I'll be over here for the next fortnight. Goodbye.
Bye, Douglas.
(Christine giggling)
I bid you good night, Miss...
- I beg your pardon. - (Laughs )
Oh, why are you running away?
Hmm?
- (Butch laughs ) - Why is everybody leaving?
Have I done something wrong?
Thank you for a delightful evening. It's been perfectly splendid.
- Very interesting. - Oh.
- Am I interesting? - Yes. Very interesting indeed.
Look, I must dash. I've got 15 minutes To get to Paddington.
Thank... Thank you very much. Thank you. Goodbye.
(Butch laughs )
Oh, haven't you gone yet, Ziggie? I thought you had gone hours ago.
- Oh, what are you drinking? - No, the club's closed!
Everyone must go. The club's closed.
- (Butch) # She'll be wearing pink pyjamas... # - No, no, not you, Butch.
- You've got to help me behind the bar. - (Doorbell rings )
No, shh! Hughie.
Be careful, it might be Michael Crowley.
Or Scotland Yard.
Everybody, put your drinks away.
Shh-shh!
Darling, bended knees wouldn't get one a cab.
They're all bursting at the seams with GIs and fireballs.
Liz, what happened? Are we going to this Nuthouse joint?
- The club's closed, Elizabeth. - You're still here, Ziggie.
I stay only to tell you that I do not wish to come to the Nuthouse with you.
That is all. I'm going home.
Oh, no, you come along, Ziggie.
- We don't mind, do we, Liz? - No, I'm not wishing to spoil
- other people's enjoyment. - If he doesn't want to come, Sam.
Oh, Ziggsie, ring me in the morning after twelve.
But not a second before or I shall kill you.
- Good night, Ziggie. - Good night, darling.
- (Hugh) Good night, Ziggie. - Good night.
I don't know why you stay here, Elizabeth,
when you could be rich-bitching it at the Nuthouse.
Well, of course, darling. I should hate to interfere with your silly bitching
- here at La Vie En Rose. - Poops to you, Elizabeth.
How about a lovely good-night kiss
for Queen Christiney, Sam?
- A good friend to you. - Yeah, sure, Christine.
Good night, and thanks a lot.
Butch, Hughie, I nominate you nominary life members.
But you've got to help me get the bottles fixed.
(Chuckles ) Jesus Christ, fella,
has that dame got a bun on.
(Laughs ) Too, too, too divine!
Oh, Liz, I forgot to tell you,
there was a guy in here with a message for you from a girlfriend of yours in Germany.
In Germany?
But I don't know anyone in Germ...
Oh, it wasn't Herta, was it? Herta Zimmerman?
That's it, yeah.
Oh, well, darling, she's all right?
Well, she must be or he couldn't have...
Well, Sam, what did he say?
- I mean, did he say... - What I gathered was
she was in one of those goddamn camps they liberated.
Oh...
Well, it may not have been a real inferno,
like Belsen or Ravensbrück, but...
Wait, Hugh can probably give you more details. I'll go ask him.
No. No, no, don't! Don't! Please don't. No, I couldn't bear it.
I just couldn't bear it.
Don't you think to go now or we will never get into the Nuthouse.
Oh, darling, I couldn't be behaving worse.
- I know that you must... - Hey, I understand, Liz.
I know the way you feel.
(Sighs )
Oh, that really is too, too divine of you.
Well, no, I just know the way you feel. That's all.
Shall we go?
It really is rather heavenly our meeting like this.
- Don't you think? - I think it's heavenly, period.
(Footsteps approaching)
Enough's as good as a feast!
I have the reputation of my club to consider.
I should hate to get La Vie En Rose a bad name.
Good night, Christine.
And the cheapest abortion costs £200!
- (Door opens ) - And kindly close the door
- and put the cat out. - (Door closes )
All clear, boys. Now we can really let our hair down.
Hey, wait a minute.
I...I gotta meet these guys at the goddamn Victory Club costume ball.
Do you wanna see my costume?
- Think this'll help me get laid? - (Laughing)
(Laughs ) Oh!
That's not your face, silly Butchy!
I know what's a face and what's not a face.
That's nothing but a mask.
You can't fool Christine.
They think they can come snaking back here
when refused admittance at the Nuthouse.
Hey, fella, come here and tell me, will you?
- What? - Where can I get me a piece of tail, huh?
What do you call it in this damn country, ''a piece of s...sexual intercourse''?
- What about, erm... - No, she's too stewed.
That's not a feasonable proposition
- So tell me where do I get it? - Anywhere in Piccadilly.
- There's always plenty. - Let's get this straight, Mac,
any form of sexual intercourse comes natural to me
bar one, and that's to pay for it.
- Butch. - Yeah, tell me.
I was going to say, does it matter if it's, erm...
I get you, buster.
I get you.
- I go for it. - Have you got anywhere?
- I can't take you back to my place. - Listen, kid.
Quickly, give me your room number.
- Room 37, second floor. - 37, second floor.
You just walk in, come right up.
I'll go on ahead. You got it?
37, second floor.
Well, I'm through, fella, I gotta get me some sleep.
(Christine humming tune )
- All my members must love each other. - (Laughing)
Triple Scotches all round!
Let's all get fuddly drunk.
- Darling, I thought we already were. - Not to my way of thinking.
Give us the bottle. I'll be mum.
Nobody can leave the club
because I've locked the door and swallowed the key!
I've gotta get back to camp.
No, not if I know it.
Aw, Jesus, I'm late.
Look at the time. I shall get court-martialled.
- No! No, no! - Yes.
Don't leave me.
Oh, don't go, honey. Not you too.
No, I'm so miserable.
My lovely Hank left me and I'm all alone.
He was very, very fond of me.
He asked me to marry him,
all in white.
Well, that was love, wasn't it, darling?
Do you love me enough to do that?
I gotta get out of here. I don't feel so good.
Oh, do you hate to see a woman cry?
(Sobs ) Oh, Sammy, don't leave me.
I'm so miserable.
Oh, Hughie, you won't leave me, will you?
You won't let Nigel turn you against me, will you?
No, of course not, darling. And anyway, why should he?
Well, you love the Vie En Rose, don't you, darling?
And you love me too.
- Have another drink, darling. - Oh, no, no, no.
No, you must. You must.
You know... You know...
Butch was mad to have sex with me tonight.
- But I said, ''No, Butch. - (Door closes )
''I like you, but I can't love you like that.''
Because he wanted to marry me all in white...
Christmas.
But I said no.
- I said, ''Do not...'' - Oh, heavens,
is Christine passing out again?
Do you think we ought to carry her up to bed?
Oh, no, let's just get her into this chair.
(Christine ) Any more... (Mumbling)
I don't know how you people can go on like you do night after night.
- Should I, erm... - Oh, no, Hugh.
- You get along, I've got to do the accounts. - (Mumbling)
Oh, the fug in here.
Let's have a bit of air in.
(Christine groans )
(Grunts ) Do her good, a bit of air.
God, I really do look drunk.
Well, and whose fault is that?
It isn't as if you didn't know what you were going to feel like in the morning.
But, Doris, the morning's tomorrow.
It's the future.
There's no future in the Vie En Rose, dear.
Not much past either, come to that.
Couldn't be more shameful really.
It's a retrogression to the subhuman.
I wouldn't say you were subhuman exactly.
- Doris, you're priceless. - But as I was saying to Cook this evening,
do you know what they remind me of, the members of this club?
Nothing but a lot of half-baked ostriches,
sticking their heads into double Scotches,
or jumping into bed and burying them in each other's bosoms.
Oh, nothing but drink and sex, I said, drink and sex.
One long never-ending effort to escape from reality.
What do you do, then, I mean when you're not working?