ugly brute. shits and roars and complains all day. of course, you have your aeroplane. two now! do you still call yourselves explorers? i assume not.
i know your mother, of course.
i'm also searching for the lost oasis, but by more authentic means.
well, it's certainly not between here and dakhla. nine days of nothing but sand and sandstorms. an egg. i found an ostrich egg and some fossils.
i'll invite you to my paper at the royal geographical society. are you still a member?
quite impossible, madox. you must know that. if you attempt to cross the sand sea due east of kufra by car you'll leave your bones in the sand for me to collect.
you have my word as a gentleman. i've discovered a unique type of sand-dune. i've applied to the king for permission to call it the fenelon-barnes formation.
i recollect your saying to ignore your bones but i assume you have no objection to my rescuing your companion? good evening, mrs. clifton.
i'd like to introduce you to my camel - the most notable beast on earth. i understand you found some remarkable caves.
paintings of swimmers? remarkable.
what a bloody flap, eh? i heard from alexandria this morning - apparently no-one there is accepting british pounds. and if you pick up a telephone everybody's practicing their german. what do you do - do you take these things? look, moose, we need you to stay in tobruk. a bit of a short straw but the thinking is we'll be back - i mean, we will be back - but. and in the interim we need eyes and ears on the ground.
giving rommel a bloody nose. that's my suggestion. but did you hear the bbc last nigh? tobruk is of no strategic importance - makes you wonder.
jerry's got our maps you know. swines. before the war we helped them run about the desert making maps - and now they get spies into cairo using our maps, they'll get rommel into cairo using our maps. the whole of the desert like a bus route and we gave it to them. any foreigner who turned up - welcome to the royal geographic, take our maps. madox went mad, you know - you knew peter madox? - after he found out he'd been betrayed by his friend. absolutely destroyed the poor sod. shot himself in a church in dorset.
i'd like to get that bastard almsy - settle the score, eh? that's my fantasy - said he, clearing out. must have been a spy all along.