Mister Johnson

Celia Rudbeck:
Perhaps you could clean your teeth tonight having taken the pipe out of your mouth - that would be a change.

Harry Rudbeck:
I'm sorry, Celia.

Celia Rudbeck:
Sorry about what?

Harry Rudbeck:
I'm sorry about all of this.

Celia Rudbeck:
Are you? You don't do anything about it.

Harry Rudbeck:
Do? Well, what can I do? I'm in bloody West Africa. In the bloody bush. This isn't Mayfair, you know!

Celia Rudbeck:
You don't have to tell me that. What about that horrible peanut soup? Peanut soup! Any idiot can make vegetable soup - even in bloody West Africa.

Harry Rudbeck:
Why don't you tell Jamesu what you want to eat? He's not a chef at the Ritz.

Celia Rudbeck:
Alright!

Harry Rudbeck:
Dammit! You can go back home if you think you've made a mistake.

Celia Rudbeck:
What mistake?

Harry Rudbeck:
Marrying me. I know you think I'm a clod because I read Edgar Wallace instead of Jane Austin and I can't tell 'God Save the King' from the... the Marriage of bloody Figaro.