Alec McCowen: Chief Inspector Oxford

Frenzy

Chief Inspector Oxford

[to publican Felix Forsythe]
Chief Inspector Oxford: I expect she'll turn up sooner or later. These days, ladies abandon their honor far more readily than their clothes.

[to his wife]
Chief Inspector Oxford: No, discretion is not traditionally the strong suit of the psychopath, dear. Believe me, that's what we're dealing with. You ought to read his wife's divorce petition.

Chief Inspector Oxford: What does your intuition tell you I want for dinner tonight?
Mrs. Oxford: Steak and a baked potato. But you're getting: pied de porc la mode de Caens.
Chief Inspector Oxford: lt looks like a pig's foot!
Mrs. Oxford: That's what it is. I put it in the same sauce the French use for tripe.
Chief Inspector Oxford: That's comforting.

Chief Inspector Oxford: It's delicious. But I find the - ingredients somewhat mystifying.
Mrs. Oxford: They're smelts, ling, conger eel, John Dory, pilchards and frog fish.

Chief Inspector Oxford: Sergeant, my wife is currently taking a course at the Continental School of Gourmet Cooking. Apparently, they've never heard of the principal to eat well in this country, one must have breakfast three times a day. And an English breakfast at that. I don't mean your café complet.
Sergeant Spearman: Beg pardon, sir?
Chief Inspector Oxford: It's a cup of coffee, half an inch deep, in floating bits of boiled milk, and a sweet bun full of air. That's what I had this morning.
Sergeant Spearman: I see what you mean, sir. I'm a - Quaker Oats man, myself.

Sergeant Spearman: I've never run into any of these jokers before, sir. What are they like?
Chief Inspector Oxford: Oh, they vary, but not a lot. The important thing to remember is they hate women and are mostly impotent.
Sergeant Spearman: Impotent?
Chief Inspector Oxford: Don't mistake rape for potency, Sergeant. In the latter stage of the disease, it's the strangling, not the sex, that brings them on. Above all, of course, they're sadists.

Mrs. Oxford: A 'crime de passion' after all that time? Look at us. We've only been married eight years, and you can *hardly* keep your eyes open at night.
Chief Inspector Oxford: Well, that's as may be, but I don't knock you about or make you do degrading things.

Mrs. Oxford: What do you think they held? A locket? A broach? A cross!
Chief Inspector Oxford: It had to be something that would incriminate him. Something that he missed when he put the body on the truck. A monogrammed handkerchief, perhaps.
Mrs. Oxford: Not a cross, I think.
Chief Inspector Oxford: Well, I don't see why not. Religious and sexual mania are - closely linked.

Monica Barling: You see, Inspector, he wanted us to find women for him who enjoyed, well - certain peculiarities.
Chief Inspector Oxford: You mean, who were sexual masochists? Who enjoyed being hurt? That sort of thing?
Monica Barling: Quite.

Chief Inspector Oxford: Sergeant Spearman, you are positively glutinous with self-approbation.

Chief Inspector Oxford: Sergeant Spearman, you are positively glutinous with self-approbation. You might as well speak out.
Sergeant Spearman: Yes sir! The woman behind the counter at the cafe positively identified Rusk from a photo I showed her as being the man who called at the cafe the night the body was discovered. And that's not all!
[dramatically raising his index finger for emphasis]
Chief Inspector Oxford: Well, what are you waiting for, Sergeant, a roll of drums?

Chief Inspector Oxford: Miss Barling, could you describe Mr. Blaney for us? What he looked like, what he was wearing and so on.
Monica Barling: Well, yes, I think I can. He was man in his thirties, about an inch or so under 6 foot tall. He had dark hair, green eyes and a 'stache. I estimate his weight at about 155 pounds. He was wearing a rather old-fashioned jacket with leather patches on the shoulder and at the elbows. In my opinion it was quite unsuitable for London. He was also carrying a raincoat.
Chief Inspector Oxford: That's an extraordinarily precise description, Miss Barling.
Monica Barling: In my job I've learned to keep a sharp eye on men, Inspector.
[the chief inspector and sergeant appear visibly ill-at-ease]