Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965)

Noël Coward: Horacio Wilson

Photos 

Quotes 

• Wilson : I have some more African heads in my apartment. Small, pickled ones. Do drop in anytime you care to meet some unsuccessful politicians.

• Wilson : Some would be honored, may I tell you that, by my touch? There are those at the BBC who bear, like medals, bruises left by the love of Horatio Wilson.

• Wilson : If we hadn't been away we'd have organised a small but vociferous reception committee.

• Ann Lake : Mister?

  Wilson : Wilson. Wilson. Horatio Wilson. Poet, playwright - dropper of alcoholic bricks, also. Am I totally unknown to you?

  Ann Lake : We've just arrived in England.

  Wilson : From Siberia, I presume. That might possibly explain your bizarre ignorance.

• Newhouse : Who are you?

  Wilson : No autographs, but you may touch my garment.

• Wilson : [moves in closer]  I could, if you like, give you a private performance.

  Ann Lake : Please, just go away.

  Wilson : I'm told that my voice - is extremely seductive. It seems to unleash whole hurricanes of passion in the breasts of the females who watch me on the BBC. Perhaps you should sample the wine - before sending the bottle back to the cellar.

• Wilson : Bunny rabbits? With those long, mean heads, and those wet noses going up and down all the time. Just who is this Bunny?

• Wilson : The telephone, that miracle of modern communication. I often wonder why it is that we communicate so much less with all these marvels at our disposal than we did in a more primitive day, without the wireless and the television.

• Wilson : I hope my little African faces didn't disturb you.

• Wilson : The poor nuns used to lash each other... into positive frenzies of self-mortification. For myself, I find the sensation rather more titillating - if you'd care to have a bash.

  Rogers : No, thank you.

  Wilson : No, I can't say I blame you. Hardly what one would call a proper whip, is it? More like a plaything. But this one... You simply must try this one. It's my particular pet. It's reputed to have belonged to the great one himself: The Marquis de Sade.

• Wilson : I appear on the television, you know. They pay me to make use of my melodious voice. I sing rude old Welsh ballads. I recite a few things of my own... and then I give them Elizabethan drama. And all in exchange for one whiskey... served to me in the first aid room.

• Wilson : What is it, duchess? Are you cold? Is that buttermilk flesh all frozen? What, cold, my girl?

• Wilson : If you won't come to the party, duchess, the party must come to you. Have a drink. I give you golden whiskey, Scottish wine.

• Wilson : Is that the patter of tiny feet or the great thumping boots of a constable?