Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

-You've started your treatment. -Say the number, please.

Don't you want the lift?

-That's it. Over there, love. -Terrorist?

Well, that's awful.

I've come to give you a check.

Can I have a look? I've never seen a refund check before.

-Ho! Ho! -We're Department of Works!

It's my lunch hour.

-I'm Holly. -Sorry, love. So you are.

Father Christmas can't come if we haven't got a chimney.

But we'll get one.

Hello. Mr. Lowry.

-Thanks, Jack. -Are you settling in all right?

I need to find out about a woman.

But, um... Hello.

You know, it being Christmas and all.

What's happened to my flat?

-Oh, God, don't worry about that. -No, but if they did promote you, uh...

A ruthless minority of people...

Wonderful. Marvelous.

Tell them no. Tell them yes.

Here, authorize the check. What's the address?

Oh, shit. They're coming.

-You noticed. -You have to say the number!

I'm going to have a number eight, please.

I'm really just delivering the check.

"He did it all, and infinitely more.

-Go on. -Right.

Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Mother! Mother!

Machines don't fix themselves.

I don't want promotion. I'm happy where I am.

No, sir. I'm going to have to fill in a report on this.

Sam, picture me in these.

I saved you from the lorry. You're not something "very special."

# We stood beneath an amber moon... #

Personnel transporter? What?

I suppose you'd rather have terrorists.

Look, sir, you can fill in an application form, sir, if you're a relative.

Would you like to be surgeon general?

Well, they're a little overworked these days.

They don't take kindly to sabotage.

Well done, men. Quick thinking.

That's brilliant, Sam.

They sent me here. They said you have a form I need to fill out.

Don't worry. I'll get to her.

Oh, God, Mother, is that you?

Jill Layton is dead.

No, no. Buttle. I mean Buttle.

of information retrieval charges.

If you hold out too long, you could jeopardize your credit rating.

It's okay, Officer. Thank you. It's okay. Got everything under control. Thank you.

We'll be back, you clever little bastard!

No, no. There's no stamp on it, you see.

He hadn't done anything.

Are you telling me that this is illegal?

And I keep his name alive at the office every day.

-I haven't got an emergency! -Yeah?

I don't know, sir. They check all that at the depot.

It's... Well...

Send that up to Security. Anyway, tidy it up, Lowry.

-Snip, snip, slice, slice. -It's marvelous.

Ready? One, two, three.

And I'm arresting you as a...

and bounding about like a young gazelle.

Now, either you plead guilty...

Information Transit got the wrong man.

All I can say is, don't fall at the last fence, the finishing post in sight.

-I knew there was something different. -Remember how they used to stick out?

"and the standing within the community of the Department of Information Retrieval;