Alec Guinness

Alec Guinness
(as Whimple)

Stebbins: Don't you ever read the paper you work for?
Whimple: Read the Weekly Echo? That rag?

Donald Houston

Donald Houston
(as David 'Dai Number 9' Jones)

David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: [Regarding the hat he will wear] Never mind about the size as long as it fits, man!

Donald Houston

Donald Houston
(as David 'Dai Number 9' Jones)

David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: Is it far to St. Paul's? I've never been to a Cathedral before.
Jo: Neither have I.
David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: Oh, you Chapel too?

Meredith Edwards

Meredith Edwards
(as Thomas 'Twm' Jones)

David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: What's ten bob to a man with two hundred pounds? Chicken feed is ten bob!
Thomas 'Twm' Jones: Chicken feed is counted as well as chickens.

Alec Guinness

Alec Guinness
(as Whimple)

Whimple: How much I prefer vegetables to human beings.


Donald Houston

Donald Houston
(as David 'Dai Number 9' Jones)

Editor: Well, now, we must just establish your identity.
David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: Identity?
Editor: Oh, purely a formality, of course.
David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: But I've never had to do that before. They all know me back home, see?
Whimple: But you must have an identity card, don't you?
David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: Well, it's behind the teapot at home, with my union card. Best place for them - I might lose them in London.
Editor: Ah. Heh.
[pause]
Editor: Edmund?
Whimple: May I suggest, uh...
[dialing gesture]
Editor: Ah, exactly. Ring up the manager of the colliery. No doubt he can help us.
Whimple: Excuse me, sir.
[takes phone and dials 0]
Whimple: Get, get me...
[pause as he reads the place name again]
Whimple: Heh heh, ummm, uh, H for hyacinth, A for azalea, F for fuschia...
Editor: [taking the phone impatiently] Hafoduwchbenceubwllymarchogcoch 1!
David 'Dai Number 9' Jones: Congratulations, sir!

Meredith Edwards

Meredith Edwards
(as Thomas 'Twm' Jones)

Thomas 'Twm' Jones: But pawning a harp at any time - there's immorality for you.

Hugh Griffith

Hugh Griffith
(as Huw Price)

Huw: This nose can smell the primrose in the spring or mutton chops cooking or the well-brushed hair of children in the park. It is filled with the savors of innocence... and memory. The motion of the waterfall and the little girl under the haystack and cowslips in the railway cuttings. I can smell out the corruption in a den of hypocrites, scoundrels, and dead souls.
[Stroking his harp]
Huw: Anyhow, it is mostly indigestion to what you're talking about.

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