Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Help me find Jill.
I want to report a wrongful arrest.
It's all right.
Jack, this is all a mistake. Please, Jack.
You'll like it up here. Send that back.
-A triplet? -One of them, I think.
I don't care how you behaved when you were at Records.
# The morning found me miles away #
No!
Where is she? Huh?
Oh, nice effect, but highly unstable.
Um, I do assure you, Mrs. Buttle, the ministry is very scrupulous...
-Actual terrorists? -Yeah.
Who else knows? Warrenn? Helpmann?
They're always hangin' around in Lingerie.
That Mr. Buttle, Archibald, residing at
Of course. Isn't it wonderful?
He says that you're the first person ever to refuse a promotion.
Bad sportsmanship.
-Are you sure this is all right? -Yes. Yes, certain.
about following up and eradicating any error.
-Christmas present. -Oh.
Um, don't you want to search me?
Just keep your hands where I can see them.
He's been overcharged for Information Retrieval procedures...
Really, Sam! Why can't you do something about these terrorists?
# As twilight gleams the sky above #
# -Someday # ...
Well, I'm lucky.
-What on earth's happened to you? -There was a little complication.
-Fine, thanks. -Good.
Found it.
-What is it? -A 27 B/6.
say, against electrical charges over ~70...
No.
-Trouble with your air-conditioning? -Air-conditioning, sir?
The lift's arrived, sir.
You can't win the game if you're a man short.
No, nothing. Not even dreams.
Afraid you're right, Mr. Helpmann.
I thought so.
Where are you taking him?
Just a minute! You're not gonna leave it like this, are you?
What? Oh, yes. Uh, well, rather.
Everything's connected all along the line.
I've told you before. I'd turn it down.
I don't know what I want.
Your very own number on your very own door
You won't believe this, and I know it's going to sound incredible...
It isn't being very helpful, Mrs. Buttle.
And Shirley!
Hey! Amy!
-Good night, Mr. Lime. -Good night, Dawson.
Tuttle.
-Hello. -Hello.
Mr. Helpmann was very close to your father.
You haven't got the ambition.
-He's tampered with it, Dowser. -I think he's tampered with it, Mr. Spoor.
My name's Lowry. Sam Lowry.
Come on, before they turn the lights out.
There's a problem. She doesn't have a bank account.
-Of course. -We're joining Mrs. Terrain.
You want to take my console into your office?
A most perceptive choice if I dare say so, madame.
Yeah. It's the backlog. Everybody complains.
-Oh, damn and blast! -What's the matter?
I've been looking for you everywhere, Ida.
Quick. Quick.
Well, I...
I'll kill you, you bastard!
Next.
-This isn't rare. -Oh! By the by, Alma...
Is this all you've got?
Aren't you a bit late? I mean, the party started an hour ago.
How could you? Look at these people! My God!
Oh, God.
You'll never get anywhere in a suit like that.
What were we saying?
What's the number on the check?
-But they'll be lying in wait. -Oh, Christ, you're paranoid.
You've had that scab Tuttle here, ain't ya?
Central Services's new duct designs...
We'll never get rid of the damn thing now.
No, no, no, Arthur!
I'll do it for you.
-Thank you, sir. -You'll like it there.
Hey! That's mine!
Uh, I need some information on a woman named Layton.
What? Oh. Thanks.
-You didn't. -I did.
My I.D.? Oh, God.
and I'll do it for you.
You're running up an enormous bill by not cooperating.
It keeps picking up old films.
Oh, the prannets. I had a personal transporter.
It's your breathing. Now take a deep breath after "Noel."
-Jack. -A, B, C...
Hang on.
-What's in that parcel? -Oh, Jesus.
# Now #
Braised veal in wine sauce.
We all have to play by them. Even me.
cabinet or something... burn it, eat it.
No, no, no. This way, please. Straight ahead.
Hello, Sammy.
-Why have we come here? -Go away!
Go!
Shit!
Sam.
Mr. Lint, the next customer has been delivered.