Eleanor Bron: Margaret

Bedazzled

Margaret

Stanley Moon: [after having been transformed into a nun] I love you, Margaret.
Margaret Spencer: And I love you, Sister Luna.

[reading Stanley's suicide note]
Margaret Spencer: "Dear Miss Spencer, This is just to say cheerio. Yours Sincerely, Stanley Moon. P.S.: I leave you my collection of moths."

Insp. Reg Clarke: Can you remember your exact last words to him?
Margaret Spencer: I think it was "Wimpy Burgers twice, 1 MR, 1 well, heavy on the onions".

Insp. Reg Clarke: I don't want to alarm you, but I'd say that lips like that would be a magnet to sex maniacs.
Margaret Spencer: Really?

Margaret Spencer: Who's George?
Stanley Moon: He's the Devil. He's not so bad once you get to know his problems.

Stanley Moon: if you were a girl - which, of course, you are - and if I were a man, which, for argument's sake, let's say I am, and I wanted to touch you, well - I wouldn't feel restrained. I mean, I'd just go right ahead - and - touch you. You see? That's - that's how I am.
Margaret Spencer: I feel the same way. I mean, if two adult human beings want to touch each other, they should go ahead and touch each other. Why hold back?

Stanley Moon: The incredible thing about the Italians, you know, is the way they touch each other. Have you noticed that?
Margaret Spencer: Yes. Cheers.
Stanley Moon: The Anglo-Saxons have lost the art of touching each other. I mean, if someone wants to touch somebody else then they should go right ahead and touch them. I mean, it's a healthy, human thing to do.
Margaret Spencer: Y-You're so right. There's a tribe in - in Africa who never say a word. They just touch each other. That's how they communicate.
Stanley Moon: Life is far too complicated. I think we should get down to basic elements.

Stanley Moon: As Rousseau said, we must learn to unlearn - because only by unlearning can we really learn to be.
Margaret Spencer: Your ideas are so exciting!

Margaret Spencer: This afternoon has been so perfect. The Cinzano. The zoo.
Stanley Moon: The music. The touching.
Margaret Spencer: You're so right about the animals. I mean, that's what we are deep down, underneath our sophisticated civilization and we should behave like they do.
Stanley Moon: Of course. I mean, the fact that it's seven minutes past three in the afternoon wouldn't make any difference to a goat. I mean, Old Billy wouldn't stop to think what time of day it was, would he?
Margaret Spencer: No, it just goes right ahead and does what it feels like. I mean, really, what are people waiting for? I want to live! That's what matters - living. I want to do everything, be everything - feel everything.
[Stanley makes his move]
Margaret Spencer: Rape! Rape!
Stanley Moon: No, no! Margaret! Margaret! The animals! The goats! The touching!
Margaret Spencer: Rape! Rape! Rape!

Margaret Spencer: Do you like feeling things?
Stanley Moon: Oh, yes, I'm a very - tactile person.
Margaret Spencer: I love *touching* things. Sometimes, I go into the forest and shut my eyes and just wander around touching trees and grass and boulders. Y-You should try it. Do it in here! Go on. Shut your eyes. Now feel something hard.
Stanley Moon: Oh. Ohh! Oh, I'm feeling something terribly hard. It's fantastic.
Margaret Spencer: Oh, now feel something soft.
Stanley Moon: Oh. Oh, my goodness gracious me. Oh, it's unbelievable. Oh, the contrast. I've never felt anything so exciting in my life. Yeah. I love it. Feel my tie.
Margaret Spencer: Oh! Mmm. Oh. It's delicious!
Stanley Moon: Yeah?
Margaret Spencer: Velvet. It's so wild. It really does something to me. Oh.

Margaret Spencer: Oh, Brahms is just so fantastic! Whenever I feel tense or anything, I put him on, just sprawl on the carpet and let him flow all over me.
Stanley Moon: Would you like a little taste of him now then?
Margaret Spencer: Please! Not that I'm tense or anything. It's just that it would make me even less tense.
Stanley Moon: Go on. Lie down.
Margaret Spencer: Oh, uh, I didn't mean...
Stanley Moon: Let it happen.

Margaret Spencer: Doesn't it make you sad to see animals caged up like this?
Stanley Moon: Well, in a way, but, uh, quite honestly, they're really no worse off than most of us.
Margaret Spencer: How do you mean?
Stanley Moon: Well, metaphorically speaking and in a very real sense, society creates its own cages. You know, cages of the mind.
Margaret Spencer: Yes. Yes.
Stanley Moon: A curious kind of cerebral captivity.

Margaret Spencer: We're playing croquet. Why don't you and Peter go away and discuss your affairs?
Stanley Moon: True enough. I suppose we ought to tie up this Venezuelan business.
George Spiggott: Yes. Lord Dowdy, I wonder if you'd be so kind as to take over my blue ball and double up with Daphne.

Insp. Reg Clarke: Lovely weather we've been having.
Margaret Spencer: Lovely.
Insp. Reg Clarke: Of course, we've been kept pretty busy. It's the summer frocks. I've had three rapes on my hands this morning.
Margaret Spencer: Is that a lot?
Insp. Reg Clarke: Oh, round about the seasonal average.

Insp. Reg Clarke: I've always had mixed feelings about - rape. I mean, half the time, it's the, uh, the girls that have led things on.
[moves in closer]
Margaret Spencer: I agree with you.
[backs away]
Insp. Reg Clarke: They bring it on themselves, you know. They really do.

Insp. Reg Clarke: You've got lovely lips, Margaret. Very tempting and alluring. "Lorelei lips" is what I call 'em. Has anyone ever said that before?
Margaret Spencer: No, never.

Margaret Spencer: What magic is afoot?
Stanley Moon: Our love is written in the book of fate. There is no escaping it.
Margaret Spencer: This - can't be right - and yet, within my breast beats *such* desire.