"Paul, Darling, why are all these people getting bumped off when we happen to be handily nearby? And why do they breathe clues into your ear with their last gasp? Why haven't they squealed what they know to the police? And Paul, Darling, why are all these nice British actors dressed up as beastly foreigners? Anybody might think we tolerated them in this great country. As servants we can, I suppose, make wizard jokes about them, but they might get other ideas. Isn't it enough we look after them so well in their own country?" "Steve, Darling, can't you see it's because the writing and directing are rot?" "Well, Paul, Darling, when you've solved the case, let's go and buy that diamond ring, fresh from the mines of South Africa. I'll go and get my leopard skin coat. Isn't it so spiffing to be civilised?"