Original subtitles

A gossip

columnist is an odd sort of a bird.

He inhabits the land of expensive restaurants and

nightclubs, and there he feeds upon titbits that

are dropped to him by a host of

amateur leg-men and leg-women.

He pays them small sums for juicy morsels.

The juiciest morsels of all are those that

concern either the international set, the very rich,

dukes and duchesses, or, best of all, royalty.

All this is perfectly harmless, so long as

the gossip remains benign and good-humoured.

But when it becomes malicious, as it so

often does, then it can literally ruin somebody's

life.

Let the storey you are going to see

now serve as a warning to all malicious

gossip columnists.

It's really cold.

No letters?

No, no letters.

Looks as if your old man's going to

cough up.

Well, he sent us a few hundred last

month.

Well, it's living in Toronto.

Does he have any idea of the cost

of living, especially in London, especially with a

degree in English?

What has that got to do with it?

Well, it makes it harder to get a

job.

Everyone knows that.

You must have your head in the clouds

if you spent three years doing an English

degree.

You're a bit of a traitor, George.

A traitor?

Remember, you grabbing all the people at parties,

making them listen to your theory that Shakespeare

was a nun.

You could empty a room in ten minutes,

but you cared about all that.

Yes, well, we're not students any more.

Romantic poets won't earn us any bread.

Well, they lived in pigsties, and look what

they accomplished.

Most of them died young.

Anyway, it was Garretts.

It was always Garretts for some reason.

You'll just have to write to your father

for some more money.

I've taken enough of him.

So have you.

No more sponging, George.

Well, what else can we do?

I'll just have to start making the rounds

again.

Newspapers, publishers.

I thought you tried them all.

I'll try again.

Fleet Street is not looking for geniuses this

year.

I set my sights lower.

T-boy.

Anything.

Are you going to show them how brilliantly

you write with both hands carrying a tea

tray?

Just shut up and make the coffee, will

you?

The kettle's boiling, you nut.

A person can't live without money.

Your old man ought to know that.

Oh, this guy's got a nerve.

Who?

Lionel Brewster, the columnist.

What's he saying now?

Same sort of stuff he's always saying.

Same sort of scandal, always about the rich.

Here, listen to this.

Yeah?

Oh, thanks.

A scene at the Bongo Club.

Banker William S.

Wilbur together with beauteous starlet Teresa Burton.

Three nights running.

Mrs. Wilbur at home with a headache, which

is something anyone's wife would have if hubby

was out squiring Mrs. Burton of an evening.

Poor old Wilbur.

I think it's a shame.

That sort of thing could cause a divorce.

How can Brewster get away with stuff like

that?

Oh, they always do.

They're all scared of him.

You know what I'd do if I was

William S.

Wilbur?

What?

I would punch Lionel Brewster on the nose.

It's the only thing these guys understand.

Mr. Wilbur couldn't do that.

Why not?

Because he's an important man.

Mr. Wilbur is a dignified and respectable man.

He's a prominent banker.

He couldn't possibly...

Is it?

Brilliant.

What's wrong?

What's the matter with you?

I have an idea.

Listen very carefully, because I have an idea

which will make us both very rich.

We're broke, correct?

We are.

On this William S.

Wilbur, would you say that he's angry with

Lionel Brewster this morning?

Angry?

He'll be madder than hell.

You think he'd like to see Lionel Brewster

receive a good hard punch on the nose?

Damn right he would.

Now tell me, isn't it possible that Mr.

Wilbur would be prepared to part with a

sum of money to someone who would undertake

to perform this nose-punching operation efficiently and

discreetly on his behalf?

I get you.

What a marvellous idea.

That's just a little part of the idea.

If you read Brewster's column, you'll see there's

another person who's being insulted today.

Mrs. Ella Gimple.

She's a socialite, maybe a million dollars in

the bank.

What does Brewster say about her?

Oh, he hints at how she makes a

stack of money out of her own friends

by throwing roulette parties and acting as the

bank.

Well, that fixes Gimple.

Paul Gimple.

Paul Wilbur.

Right.

Two different people.

Both of them loathing Lionel Brewster's guts today.

Both wanting desperately to go out and punch

him on the nose, and neither of them

daring to do it.

You understand that?

Absolutely.

Right.

Now, this is the plan.

We've set up an organisation, and we call

it...

What do we call it?

Um...

We'll call it, uh...

Let me see.

We'll call it...

Vengeance Is Mine, Incorporated.

How about that?

Well, it's a peculiar name.

It's biblical.

It's good.

I like it.

Vengeance Is Mine, Incorporated.

It sounds fine.

Listen, we'll have lots of cards printed.

We'll send them out to all our clients,

reminding them they've been assaulted and mortified in

public, and offering to punish the offender for

a fee.

We'll buy all the newspapers, read all the

columnists, and every day we'll send out a

dozen or more of our cards to prospective

clients.

Oh, this is great!

We'll be rich.

We'll be tremendously wealthy in no time at

all.

Now, we'll, uh...

We need to offer them a choice of

methods.

We need to think up a number of

different punishments.

Now, number one will be, uh...

Uh, punch on the nose once hard.

What shall we charge for that?

Um...

Two hundred and fifty pounds.

Two hundred and fifty pounds.

Right, what's the next one?

Black is I.

Black...

Is...

I.

Two hundred and fifty pounds.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, it requires more skill and timing to

black an I, I say, than to punch

a nose.

No, no, this is a skilled job.

No, that should be three hundred and fifty.

Okay.

Three hundred and fifty.

What's the next one?

Well, both together, of course.

The old one too.

Both together?

Absolutely.

Punch his nose, black his I, six hundred

pounds.

No, no, no, no, no.

There should be a reduction for taking the

two.

We'll, um, we'll make it five hundred.

Well, that's dirt cheap.

They'll snap it up.

What's next?

Number four.

Put a rattlesnake...

...with venom extracted on the floor of his

car by the pedals when he parks it.

You want to scare him to death?

Sure.

But where are we going to get a

rattlesnake, anyway?

Oh, buy it.

You can always buy them.

How much shall we charge for that one?

Seven hundred and fifty pounds.

Right.

Now, we need one more.

Here it is.

Kidnap him in a car, shave his head

bald, paint a slogan on his back of

their choice, and then dump him stark naked

in the middle of Piccadilly in the rush

hour.

We can't do that.

Write it down and charge a thousand pounds.

You jolly well do it if Wilbur offered

you that much.

Yeah, I suppose I would.

Hey, that's enough now.

That gives him a wide choice.

Right.

Now, where do we get the cards printed?

Bob Singer.

He runs the stationers.

They do printing.

And he owes us a favour.

He's done it very nicely.

Hey, Wilbur here, Wilbur.

Hey, here he is.

Wilbur, will you miss?

Here, get this down.

Six Grosvenor Walk, West 1.

Got it?

Yeah.

PHONE RINGS Oh,

put it here.

And, Sukie, I'd adore to see your necklace.

My necklace, Mrs Wilbur?

The one my husband bought you on your

afternoon off in Barn Street.

At 4.30?

No, madam, there must be some mistake.

Of course there is, darling.

My husband is always making these mistakes.

But he doesn't mean any harm.

He's the most well-intentioned person and very,

very kind.

The necklace, Sukie.

Yes, Mrs Wilbur.

PHONE RINGS Oh.

You didn't think it was genuine?

Not genuine.

Oh, not a hope, darling.

He will have his little joke.

Would you like me to speak to him

about it, or...

shall we forget all about it?

Yes, please, we forget about it.

There's a good girl.

I knew you'd be sensible.

Just leave the tea, Sukie.

I'll pour for myself.

Yes, Mrs Wilbur.

MUSIC PLAYS Well?

Well, I delivered them both.

I pushed them to the letterbox, rang the

bell and beat it up the street.

Wilbur's got a huge house.

How did you get on?

Well, I went to see a guy I

know who works in the sports section of

the Daily Bugle.

He told me all about Brewster.

His movements are more or less routine.

He operates at night.

But wherever he goes earlier in the evening,

he always...

and this is the important point...

he always finishes up at the Astor Club.

He gets there around about midnight, stays till

2 or 2.30. That's where his leg

men bring him all the info.

Well, that's all we need to know.

Well, it's easy.

Money for old rope.

There are two.

Hey, open them up, quickly.

Your methods seem curiously unorthodox.

At the same time, anything you do to

that scoundrel has my approval.

So go ahead.

Start with item one.

And if you're successful, I'd be only too

glad to give you an order to work

right on through the list.

I'll pay cash on delivery.

I'll probably be there on the night.

William S.

Wilbur!

Hey, hey, hey, listen to this.

A good hard sock on the nose for

Brewster is worth 250 of mine or anyone

else's money.

I should like to watch your sincerely, Ella

H.

Gimple.

We'll be rich!

We'll be rich!

We'll be rich!

We'll be rich!

When shall we do it?

Tonight?

Hey, hey, listen.

I've only just realised.

This is even better than we thought.

Two birds with one stone.

Two customers with one punch.

How?

Don't you see?

We only have to hit Brewster once.

And each of the clients, Wilbur and Gimple,

will think it's done specially for him or

her.

This is brilliant!

No, it's common sense.

Listen, the same principle will apply to all

the other treatments, okay?

What are you waiting for?

Go on, answer it.

Telegram come for you.

Thank you.

Well, I never write letters.

I always phone or send a telegram.

And since you didn't put a telephone number...

Thank you.

Did your husband show you our card, Mrs.

Wilbur?

Well, not exactly, no, but...

Well, I happened to catch a teeny glimpse

of it by accident.

Coffee?

Oh, thank you.

Yes.

Yes, please.

Milk and sugar?

Yes, please.

Well, you help yourself.

Thank you.

Well, the point is, my husband is very,

very impetuous and headstrong.

And, well, there's no sense in my saying

anything to him once he's made up his

mind.

Do you disapprove of what we're doing?

Oh, no.

No, don't misunderstand me.

I don't disapprove, not in the slightest.

I'm only concerned to protect my husband from

the consequences.

Well, if there should be any consequences.

Well, if it somehow came out that...

Well, that he'd hired you boys to...

To do whatever it is you're going to

do to that dreadful man Brewster.

Well, you can imagine how bad that would

be for his reputation.

So I wanted to satisfy myself that...

Well, that you'd be taking precautions.

Precautions?

What kind of precautions?

Well, in case you were recognised or someone

took down your description and you were traced.

We've thought of that, Mrs. Wilbur.

George is going to be disguised.

Oh, disguised.

Yes.

Yes, that's just the kind of thing.

And are you good at disguises?

Well, not especially, but, you know, we thought

maybe dark glasses, a big hat pulled low

over his face.

Oh, no, no.

No.

Well, maybe I can help you.

How is that, Mrs. Wilbur?

Well, I...

Well, I used to be an actress before

I married Mr. Wilbur.

And, well, I did my own makeup most

of the time.

Really?

Yes, so you just wait here and make

yourselves at home.

I'll see what I can find.

Some getaway car.

I'll bet they wouldn't even let it into

a junkyard.

What happens if someone chases us?

Oh, we let them crash into the back

of us.

That's our secret weapon.

You guarantee this is a fast car?

Oh, it should do 110 in a push.

And who's going to push?

Oh, that's 20 pounds deposit, returnable, on top

of the one day hire charge.

There's a charge of five pence a mile.

We take that out of it upon you.

Perhaps you charge a commission on the petrol,

too.

No, no, we'll fill you up and I'll

use your price.

That's all right, it's cheaper down the road.

What is it, bugs in the upholstery?

Maybe this whole plan's not so good after

all.

Maybe we ought to reconsider it.

Oh, no, not the Hamlet Act again.

Whose idea was it in the first place?

Mine.

Now I'm having doubts.

If something goes wrong...

Look, even Shakespeare was a poacher.

Come on, we're wasting time.

There's a post office just around the corner.

A post office?

We need to send telegrams to each of

our clients.

Hope to see you outside Astor Club, 2

...30 a.m. Regards, be I of mine.

You'd better put your hat on.

And your whiskers, to get used to them.

Right.

How hard shall I hit him?

Hit him as hard as you can.

And on the nose.

It must be on the nose, because that's

a part of the contract.

I hope I recognise him.

You can't always tell from a photograph.

Will you stop worrying?

I've thought of that.

Here.

Take this.

Give it to the doorman.

Tell him to see it gets to Brewster

quickly.

Act as though you're in a frightful hurry

and scared to death.

Well, that's easy.

It's 101 Brewster come out.

No columnist could resist that message.

Why?

What does it say?

It says, I'm official in Soviet consulate.

Come to the door very quickly, please.

I have something to tell, but come quickly,

as I am in great danger.

Good luck.

Hey, remember.

Soviet official.

Can you take this note to Mr. Lionel

Brewster?

Please.

It's very urgent.

Does Brewster know you?

Are you a friend of his?

No.

He's expecting you?

No.

Then move along.

No, no, no, please.

It's a matter of life and death.

Look, mate, I've got troubles enough without you

pestering me.

I'm being murdered.

Murdered?

By a new pair of boots.

I can't move without them slicing off another

piece of skin.

By the end of tonight, I'll be toeless.

So don't bother me.

What's in his note, then?

Just take it in to him.

I promise you, it's urgent.

What's the matter with you?

Nothing.

You all right?

Yeah.

He's coming down now.

Well, that's him, sir.

Yes?

What did you want?

Please.

I mustn't be overheard.

Well, come on now.

What is it you want?

Well done!

Wonderful!

I saw the whole thing!

I'm Mr Wilbur!

You did a fine job!

Well, we did it!

It worked!

Do you see how hard I hit him?

Yeah, well, you hit him hard.

Do you see him lift?

Do you see him lift right up off

the ground?

Yeah, I saw it all, George.

I saw it clearly.

It was a marvellous punch.

That's the one!

Grab him!

Herbert, they've...

they've gone...

You've got to put...

Come on, I've got you, I've got you.

Leave me alone!

You awful man!

Get these idiots off me!

For heaven's sake!

Oh, God!

Help!

Help me!

Help me!

Vengeance, indeed!

I'll give them vengeance!

Stop it!

When I'm done with those two, they'll wish

they've never been born!

Drive faster!

Drive like mad!

We'll be rich!

We'll be rich!

We'll be rich!

We'll have filmstaff lolling round our stomach-fulls

and head-waiters bowing to us!

You can drive on now.

What do you mean, you can get our

name in Brewster's collar?

George, did you see Wilbur's face when he

ran after you?

He looked exactly like you in your disguise.

I did my own make-up, most of

the time.

Ha ha ha!