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Mr. Cole? It’s Alf, from downstairs. I’m not the war, I’m not the committee. I’m what makes it better. Mrs. Cole. Hello, Alf. Heavy Rescue. They wanna know how many in the cellar at number . All right. When the twins got to Dunkirk, they did what every other small boat did, ferried troops off the and out to the big ships waiting in the deeper water. There was shelling and strafing, but they honestly didn’t talk about that. What really seems to have stuck with them are the details, the little authentic details. The soldier with a dog in his kit bag. Uh, the Frenchman that tried to kiss Lily. I wish I could make you understand how awfully brave they were. Their father’s a bully, I think, and a bit of a drunk. They’re terrified of him, but they took his boat anyway, the Nancy. “The Nancy”? The Nancy Starling. After their mother. The nail on the head. Mmm? On the head. Authenticity, optimism, and a dog. I imagine call-up’s left quite a hole in your ranks, so, in the interest of a quick turnaround, we’ll let you have some of our people. Mrs. Cole, Miss Moore. Mmm-hmm? Yes. Be good to get this into the cinemas while there are still a few of them standing. Mmm-hmm. Well done. Well done. Yeah. Do I have the job? Well, why not? Twins, after all. Double the slop. Temporary secondment to Baker Productions. No screen credit. Ministry wages. I need more. I could throw in a desk. I need more than Ministry wages. I’ll talk to Baker. Leslie Banks is virtually my age, and he’s still staggering around the studios, giving his unhinged all as young love gone bad– Oh, no, no, no, Cerberus. Too much glass. You know, if you paid your clients half as much attention as you do that hyena, you might actually be an agent worth having. Spitfires. Won’t you help to buy– Ambrose Hilliard. The Man with the Glint. Oh, I know it’s a liberty, but would you do him for me? Would you? Inspector Charnforth? “Someone has made a mistake. It’s a simple mistake and easy to miss. I almost did so myself.” Oh! Oh, um Games Spitfires, Sammy. In the pocket.