The Naked Truth

Sonny MacGregor:
"Is your husband there? I'll just..."

Lady Lucy Mayley:
"Not all there I'm thinking."

[first lines]

Minister:
In reply to the honourable member's question, I can only say... Uhh...

[collapses]

Lord Henry Mayley:
I've always considered murder to be rather un-English. I mean, one's got to draw the line somewhere, hasn't one?

Sonny MacGregor:
I'm having a day's rough shooting and want some bullets.

Gunsmith:
Cartridges? Certainly, sir. Any particular make?

Sonny MacGregor:
No, as long as they've got gunpowder in them.

Gunsmith:
What bore?

Sonny MacGregor:
Boar? No, no. A few rabbits, pheasants, small fry, you know.

Gunsmith:
No, no, sir. Bore. B-O-R-E.

Sonny MacGregor:
Bore! [laughs] Hmm?

Gunsmith:
12, 20 or 4-10?

Sonny MacGregor:
Er... Definitely, yes.

Gunsmith:
Well, which, sir?

Sonny MacGregor:
Well, the largest you have, surely.

Gunsmith:
12-bore. How many, sir? 50?

Sonny MacGregor:
No, I think you'd better make it a thousand.

Gunsmith:
A thousand?

Sonny MacGregor:
Yes.

Gunsmith:
But didn't you say a day's rough shooting?

Sonny MacGregor:
Yes, I did, er... and it may be pretty rough.

Sonny MacGregor:
Are you crazy? We've just been killing ourselves trying to murder him!