Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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