A Run for Your Money
1949
Whimple: How much I prefer vegetables to human beings.
Stebbins: Don't you ever read the paper you work for? Whimple: Read the Weekly Echo?! That rag??
Station Announcer: (into PA) Will Mr Thomas Jones and Mr David Jones, J-O-N-E-S, from-- (to Whimple) Where are they from? (takes Whimple's slip of paper with "Hafoduwchbenceubwllymarchogcoch" on it; speaks into PA) Would Mr Thomas and Mr David Jones, from... (looks at paper) Love a duck! (pause) Would Mr Thomas and Mr David Jones, from *Wales*, please call at the stationmaster's office on Platform 1. (About 100 Welshmen converge on the stationmaster's office)
Editor: Well, now, we must just establish your identity. David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: Identity? Editor: Oh, purely a formality, of course. David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: But I've never had to do that before. They all know me back home, see? Whimple: But you must have an identity card, don't you? David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: Well, it's behind the teapot at home, with my union card. Best place for them -- I might lose them in London. Editor: Ah. Heh. (pause) Edmund? Whimple: May I suggest, uh... (dialing gesture) Editor: Ah, exactly. Ring up the manager of the colliery. No doubt he can help us. Whimple: Excuse me, sir. (takes phone and dials 0) Get, get me... (pause as he reads the place name again) Heh heh, ummm, uh, H for hyacinth, A for azalea, F for fuschia... Editor: (taking the phone impatiently) Hafoduwchbenceubwllymarchogcoch 1! David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: Congratulations, sir!
Jane: I've checked the photograph of that floozy. She's a pro all right -- a con woman! Whimple: Pro and con? Jane: A professional confidence trickster. She specializes in provincials up for a spree.