XANDER: The target list, Jason. Four iconic Central London landmarks. - Make your selection. - Number three. XANDER: The London Eye?
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This cyberattack could potentially impact 16,000 visitors. (OVER PHONE): ♪ Ra, ra, Rasputin ♪ Lover of the Russian...
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Oh, pretty much straightaway. - Mm. - Hmm.
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BOUGH (WHISPERS): Good luck, sir.
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Here we are at Fifi's third birthday, and it's a very exciting day! (LAUGHS) (GROUP CHEERING) Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! GROUP: Hooray! ♪ Happy birthday to you - ♪ Happy birthday to you. - (GRUMBLES) (PHONE BEEPING) - (SINGING STOPS) - Thank you. Can I just ask, what is wrong with you? The country is in a state of complete chaos, the press is wetting itself, and the only person capable of saving us is the man you're accusing of high treason. I was in the room myself when he gave the order, Prime Minister, but-but there was a, - there's a, you know... - Do you know what I was in the room with, English? Your file, which I've read in its entirety. And I have a few questions. Did you or did you not burn the Côte de Roc restaurant in Antibes to the ground? - Um... - And did you or did you not fire a guided missile at a peloton of French cyclists? - W-Well... - Before commandeering an open-top bus and tossing the tour guide off the top deck and then assaulting an 82-year-old grandmother in a sandwich shop before battering the employee of said sandwich shop with two organic sourdough baguette? Uh, I don't remember... Do you have any idea how hard it is to be me? - Uh... - Hmm? Do you have even the foggiest notion of how virtually impossible it is to get anything done in the face of events and facts and voters and that tsunami of tosspots we call the national press? Finally I get the chance to do something good for my country, and what happens? The universe sends me you. Well, do you know what I say? I say "up the universe's arse!" And do you know what else I say? You're fired with immediate effect. Now get out! And make sure I never clap eyes on that imbecile ever again! ♪
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(GRUNTS) - Drive. - (WHIMPERING) - Excuse me. - What? What do you think you're doing? Excuse me! You are not a qualified instructor. (SCREAMS) (TIRES SQUEAL) (TRATTNER SCREAMS)
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(SIGHS)
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I've spent two years undercover. Simple operation until you showed up. And I like to keep things simple. Simple is my middle name. - (DOOR OPENS) - (GASPS SOFTLY) MAN: Yeah, I hear you. Well, I'm gonna need about - five minutes... - It would seem you've got a choice to make.
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(TIRES SQUEAL) Three, two, one.
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A temporary suspension of hostilities? A short-term partnership? Agreed. Mm.
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But the thing is, Fiona, I just don't really do other people's security. Not that I don't want to. But your infrastructure is old. Plus, the only way I could keep you secure in the meantime would be by storing all your data on my own servers. - Obviously, that would be... - Yes. Jason, what I really want to do is announce this tie-up at the G12 meeting. Do we have a deal? (CHUCKLES) (BIRDS CHIRPING)
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Drop the gun. Get your hands in the air. And you.
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ENGLISH: Excellent, Bough. Nearly there. - Nearly there. - (CONTINUES GRUNTING) This is actually a really nice hotel, Bough. I'm turning to the right... (MELLOW PIANO MUSIC PLAYING)
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- (ENGLISH PLAYS SHORT MELODY) - (PIANIST STOPS)
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And I'll have a London... Lemming, please. I'm not sure. What...? It's, uh, gin... (SIGHS): vodka... Armagnac... sherry... with just a little bit of Parmesan. (CHUCKLES SOFTLY)