Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

- Mmm. - Don't imbibe the crime scene.

Jockie! Advise?

Will it be all right in the end?

Multiple attacks over the years to come,

Creates quite a market when a painting

Untold riches and all that, what?

Cover me, as it were?

Keep the Englishman busy. I create distraction.

The woman bred! What an odious thought.

- Johanna, do you... - Oh!

Give me the painting!

all this mess on your own, now, would it?

I sunk into an uneasy slumber,

will offer you a perfect cover.

I'm unable to steer my mind away from it.

Inspector Alastair Martland.

I do recall a vague memory of her having once,

My love, surely you recall

my immediate self-defenestration.

- Right you are, sir. - Right.

I don't like it!

And myself sleeping alone.

Your bags have been packed and checked,

Is it that you actually know and don't want to tell me?

We need eight million.

I believe a finger would be fair. Don't you?

I feel simply awful, man, but I must get to the auction.

During the War. Nazi bastards.

You dare to cast aspersions?

Yes, well, that is where the story

And the Ambassador's residence.

and unreservedly offer my deepest...

What the situation requires now

Hello, Sir Graham, you old member.

I understand you were close with Bronwen Fellworthy.

gets interesting, you see.

- And, Jock? - Yes, sir?

cheap, leather encasement, just like on telly?

he reached underneath for the big decanter,

Would you really do that for me?

Do you think that Jockie will stay on

fair shot with most weapons.

I think this woman has need of a chiropractor.

The Duchess pops up again in France in 1943,

Yes, do. Do think.

Man down! Man down!

The file was fat and well-handled,

How do you think this makes me feel, man?

You bloody chicken, bloody monkey,

by growing that horrible moustache.

It looked like you have a vagina on your face.

It's a privilege sir!

- You have it? - Go!

The rooms here are made of cement.

Sir, you`re staring at your Liquor!

I wasn't going to.

and I called Spinoza, and then he arranged for everything,

Is there a purpose to your presence?

with a failed poet! Oh!

It's all right, sir. It's all right.

Of all sad words of tongue or pen,

It was not from a child, it was from him.

that moustache of the Prophet?

Garnished by Her Majesty's government

Jockie, thank heavens! Where have you been, man?

Thirty-five thousand pounds.

I feel that I could share anything with you.

Some warmed blinis, creme fraiche,

Open your balls?

Where is Mortdecai?

Go to your room, right now. It’s spanked. But I didn’t do it yet.

to look at his John Thomas.

We are going to enter the Goya into the auction,

But instead it was stolen and secreted away.

You really are a cut above!

Well, have it your way, Fang.

I shan't! What does that even mean?

Or was it Agamemnon?

But never an outright mountebank.

Because I want, I will have.

boiled egg whites,