On his sprawling country estate, an aging writer matches wits with the struggling actor who has stolen his wife's heart.

[last lines]
Milo Tindle: Andrew... remember... be sure and tell them... it was only a bloody game.
Andrew Wyke: You're a jumped up pantry boy who doesn't know his place!
Andrew Wyke: You said everything was in plain view!
Milo Tindle: Well aren't I the shifty old sly boots, then.
Milo Tindle: Maggie never told me you were... such a manipulator. She told me you were no good in bed, but she never told me you were such a manipulator.
Andrew Wyke: She told you I was no good in bed?
Milo Tindle: Oh, yes.
Andrew Wyke: She was joking. I'm wonderful in bed.
Milo Tindle: I must tell her.
Andrew Wyke: It's sex! Sex is the game! Marriage is the penalty. Round and round we jog towards each futile anniversary. Pass "Go". Collect 200 rows, 200 silences, 200 scars in the deep places.
Andrew Wyke: I take a strictly moral position on all this. My wife is an adulteress. Actually, she should be stoned to death.
Andrew Wyke: It's a good thing, I am pretty much of an Olympic sexual athlete.
Milo Tindle: Yes, I suppose these days you are concentrating more on the sprints than on the long distance stuff.
Andrew Wyke: Not so dear boy! I am in the peak of condition. I could copulate for England at any distance.
Milo Tindle: Well, as they say in the Olympics, it's not the winning, it's the taking part that counts.
Andrew Wyke: I understand you're fucking my wife.
Milo Tindle: That's right.
Andrew Wyke: Right... Yes, right. So, we've cleared that up.
Milo Tindle: We have.
Andrew Wyke: I thought you might have denied it.
Milo Tindle: Why would I deny it?
Andrew Wyke: Well, she is my wife.
Milo Tindle: Yes, but she's fucking me.
Andrew Wyke: Oh, she's fucking you too, huh? Well, I'll be buggered. Ha ha. Sorry.
Milo Tindle: Yes, it's mutual.
Andrew Wyke: You take turns?
Milo Tindle: We fuck each other. That's what people do.
Andrew Wyke: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I follow.
Andrew Wyke: Finally, at your moment of dying, you are yourself - a sniveling, dago clown. Farewell, Punchinello!
Milo Tindle: Please!
Andrew Wyke: [fires the gun]
Milo Tindle: It looks like you've had it. They're coming up the drive.
Andrew Wyke: Keep them out!
Milo Tindle: Keep the police out? It's just not done, old boy. But still, I'll try.
Andrew Wyke: For Christ sake Milo, they couldn't have made more noise on D-Day.
Milo Tindle: The bloody glass came out, my bloody boot got stuck and I fell down the bloody ladder.
Andrew Wyke: Well the bloody police must have heard it all the way to bloody Salisbury.
Milo Tindle: I'm sorry.
Milo Tindle: Where's the ladder?
Andrew Wyke: What ladder?
Milo Tindle: The ladder! Where's it gone?
Andrew Wyke: It's not working. There was always a dodgy fuse on this. I'll phone the electrician in the morning.
Milo Tindle: In the morning? What about now?
Andrew Wyke: No, no, he'll be in bed. You know these country people, early to bed, early to rise. He's a nice chap, though. He's called Norman. Charming wife, Debbie. Three delightful kids. Oh, I just remembered. He's on vacation, he's taken the kids to Bermuda.
Milo Tindle: What? So I'm stuck up here for the rest of my life?
Andrew Wyke: Have patience. Stoicism is what's called for. Works wonders.
Milo Tindle: What's it all about?
Inspector Doppler: Over the years my eyes have been adequately trained to see things for themselves, sir.
Andrew Wyke: In this day and age, is marriage absolutely necessary? Isn't it a bit old-hat?
Milo Tindle: We are from different worlds, you and me, Andrew. In mine, there was no time for bright fancies and happy inventions, no stopping for tea. The only game we played was to survive, or go to the wall. If you didn't win, you just didn't finish. Loser, lose all. You probably don't understand that.
Andrew Wyke: The shortest way to a man's heart, as I'm sure you know, is humiliation. It binds you together.
Milo Tindle: You're mad! You're a bloody madman!
Andrew Wyke: You are a young man dressed as a clown about to be murdered.
Andrew Wyke: [picking out a possible disguise for the phony robbery] One black facemask, one black flat cap, a striped jersey and a bag marked "Swag".
Milo Tindle: Why not a neon sign with "Burglar" on it?
Milo Tindle: Alright, I'll do it. Where do you want me to break in?
Andrew Wyke: Not so fast. You've got to get disguised first.
Milo Tindle: What for?
Andrew Wyke: Suppose somebody saw you coming.
Milo Tindle: Here? In the middle of nowhere? I could hardly find this place with a bloody map!
Andrew Wyke: You never know. A dallying couple, a passing sheep-rapist.
Milo Tindle: Why don't you ask yourself how your man Merridick would go about the search?
Andrew Wyke: Merridew! St. John Lord Merridew!
Andrew Wyke: There are certain skills best acquired in public bars, I suppose.
Andrew Wyke: What sort of parts do you play?
Milo Tindle: Killers, mostly. Sex maniacs, perverts.
Inspector Doppler: Not to appear facetious, sir, but you had better tell that to a judge.
Andrew Wyke: Whether I love her or not, I found her. I've kept her. She represents me. Once, she was in love with me.
Milo Tindle: And now she's in love with me. And you can't forgive that.
[last lines]
Andrew Wyke: Goodbye, darling.
Inspector Doppler: [after tasting] Caviar, eh? Can't say I like it. Tastes of fish eggs.
Andrew Wyke: [sarcastically] Fancy.
Andrew Wyke: So I understand you wish to marry my wife.
[on Milo being an actor]
Andrew Wyke: Why have I never heard of you?
Milo Tindle: You will before long.
Andrew Wyke: Really?
Milo Tindle: In spades.
Andrew Wyke: That sounds threatening.
Milo Tindle: Does it?
Andrew Wyke: Doesn't it?
Milo Tindle: If you think you're broke now, you'll be ten times broker by the time she's finished with you. She'll have your guts for garters.
Milo Tindle: You speak Dutch yourself, do you?
Andrew Wyke: Yes, how did you know? I have a Dutch uncle.
Milo Tindle: Can't see any Italian translations.
Andrew Wyke: [Implying a double entendre] No, they're a funny lot, the Italians. Culture isn't really their thing.
Milo Tindle: Their salami's good though.
Andrew Wyke: Oh, is it?
Milo Tindle: Italian salami? Best in the world.
Andrew Wyke: Did you bring any with you?
Milo Tindle: No, I left it at home.
Andrew Wyke: Oh, shame.
Milo Tindle: We're gonna have if for supper tonight, with a couple of bottles of Valpolicella.
Milo Tindle: I'm so glad you like my mind. Not many people like my mind. Quite a few people like my body... but i can't think of anyone who likes my mind.
Andrew Wyke: You're not giving me any kind of a chance, you sadistic bloody Wop!
Milo Tindle: I hope I didn't hear that correctly...
Detective Inspector Black: Do you want to know my opinion of the newspapers?
Andrew Wyke: What?
Detective Inspector Black: Journalists are a bunch of prick-teasing cocksuckers.
Andrew Wyke: No.
Detective Inspector Black: That's right.
Andrew Wyke: I'm sorry, but isn't that a contradiction in terms?
Andrew Wyke: Is it?
Andrew Wyke: Wit in the face of adversity! Good! You've learned something from the English.
Andrew Wyke: So you're not well-known.
Detective Inspector Black: No, I'm a common-or-garden copper. Just catch sex criminals, perverts.
Detective Inspector Black: Homicidal maniacs.
Andrew Wyke: And what do you do with them when you catch them?
Detective Inspector Black: I generally cut their balls off.
[repeated line]
Andrew Wyke: I want to show you something.
Andrew Wyke: There's nothing like a little bit of mayhem to cheer one up.
Andrew Wyke: I have nothing against lapsed Catholics. In fact, some of my best friends are lapsed Catholics.
Andrew Wyke: A great branch broke off a big tree and - flew through the air, through the skylight - as you can see. Act of God.
Detective Inspector Black: Had it in for you, did he?
Andrew Wyke: Who?
Detective Inspector Black: God.
Andrew Wyke: Oh, yes, he's always been a vicious bastard.
Andrew Wyke: You know what God's trouble is?
Detective Inspector Black: What?
Andrew Wyke: He has no father. He has no family roots. He's rootless. Nowhere to hang his hat, poor bugger. I pity him.
Andrew Wyke: Why should I give her a divorce if you're both walking away with 88 pounds?
Milo Tindle: She wants a legal settlement. She wants part of your estate.
Milo Tindle: Never trust in legal justice. You know what legal justice is? It's farting "Annie Laurie" through a keyhole.
Andrew Wyke: Oh, never trust in love, chum. Love will kick you up the arse as soon as look at you.
Andrew Wyke: My wife showers. I bathe.
Andrew Wyke: The shortest way to a man's heart is through humiliation.
Milo Tindle: There it is! The original blunt instrument; the poker. Right!
Andrew Wyke: Now steady...
Milo Tindle: Where do you want it?
Andrew Wyke: Don't get carried away. It's not a murder weapon you're talking about you know!
Milo Tindle: No?
Andrew Wyke: No. We're discussing an object from which I receive in the classic formula a glancing blow which will raise a lump without actually cracking the cranium.
Milo Tindle: Why don't I just keep tapping you lightly on the head with the poker until a lump comes up?
Andrew Wyke: Milo, baby, lemme handle this one, eh? Crime's my baaag. I got this caper worked out ta the last detail!
[first lines]
Andrew Wyke: Yes?
Milo Tindle: Andrew Wyke?
Andrew Wyke: That's right.
Milo Tindle: I'm Milo Tindle.
Andrew Wyke: Put that back, please! It's an old Egyptian blocking game. It's taken me rather a long time to get it there.
Andrew Wyke: On the morning of his execution, King Charles the First put on two shirts. 'If I tremble with the cold,' he said, 'my enemies will say it was from fear. I will not expose myself to such reproaches.' We must also attempt this Anglo-Saxon dignity as you mount the steps to the scaffold.

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