01x12 - The Spy Who Came in for a Cold One

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Cheers". Aired: September 1982 to May 1993.*
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01x12 - The Spy Who Came in for a Cold One

Post by bunniefuu »

Good evening, everybody.

Norm! Norm! Norm!

Norman.

What's new, norm?

Most of my wife.

I thought you'd gone up to Maine for the holidays with Vera.

Yeah, I am, coach.

What happened?

Nothing. Nothing. Vera drove up last night and I had to stick around for an interview today, so, I'm gonna drive up tonight.

She left me the directions here.

I should have no trouble finding the place.

Getting away, eh, Norman?

Yeah.

Yeah, we got, uh, just the two of us.

Oh...

Big, uh, big trees up there, you know.

You got a frozen lake, one radio station.

It sounds very romantic, Norman.

Yeah.

Yeah, it does, doesn't it?

Where can a guy go for a good time around here?

Enjoy.

Hey, wait a minute, pal.

Please, I can't.

I can't do that to the Navy.

♪ Makin' your way in the world today ♪

♪ takes everything you've got ♪

♪ takin' a break from all your worries ♪

♪ sure would help a lot ♪

♪ wouldn't you like to get away? ♪

♪ Sometimes you wanna go ♪

♪ where everybody knows your name ♪

♪ and they're always glad you came ♪

♪ you wanna be where you can see ♪

♪ our troubles are all the same ♪

♪ you wanna be where everybody knows your name ♪

♪ you wanna go where people know ♪

♪ people are all the same ♪

♪ you wanna go where everybody knows your name ♪

Hey. If you're in the mood for gum, I can get you a fresh stick.

Actually, I was looking for bugs.

Try the blonde girl's hair.

Say, uh, you're from england, huh?

How did you guess?

'Cause you sound smart even when you say stupid things.

I hope you won't think me presumptuous, but dark, exotic women like you bring a fever to my blood.

Wow.

Classy!

My name is Carla.

What can I get you?

How do you do, Carla?

Whoa.

My name's Eric Finch.

Gin and bitters will do.

You have an interesting profile.

Oh?

Neapolitan. Right?

That's right. My grandfather was from Naples.

We have an interesting saying in my business...

"giving your heart to a neapolitan girl is like forgetting to burn your code book."

Oops! Blast!

Now I've bloody well done it.

You're not a spy or anything...

Shh! Quiet, please. Please don't say anything more.

You might put my life in jeopardy.

You see that man there?

Yeah.

He might be the secret agent from some foreign country's intelligence.

I'd hate to live there.

Hey, all right. Here's a little-known fact.

Your smartest animal is the pig.

What? They look pretty stupid.

I'm telling you. Your average oinker. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Scientists say if a pig had thumbs and a language, he could be trained to do simple manual labor.

You mean, they'd be part of the work force.

Yeah, yeah. They could give you

20, 30 years of loyal service, then at their retirement dinner, you could eat 'em.

Nah, for me, the smartest animal is a pigeon.

Huh?

1,000 cars on the turnpike, they find mine.

I'd have to... I'd have to give my vote to the ants.

How do you figure that?

You ever see those farms they build?

Yeah? They build those things without plans.

To ants!

For all you do, this one's for you.

Hey, coach, what do you say is the smartest animal?

I gotta say Francis the talking mule.

Uh, no, coach, I don't think you're catching on here.

Uh, there was a real guy talking through that mule.

Uh, well, it wasn't so much that he could talk, it was what he said, right, coach?

Yeah, that's right. And it's a lot better than that drivel that Mr. Ed was giving us.

Hey, uh, Sam.

A gin and bitters.

Hey, everybody, come here.

Don't anybody look suddenly, but there is a guy sitting over there who's a secret agent.

That's ridiculous.

Thanks for being so cool.

You mean like a spy or something?

You mean like James Bond?

Hey, norm, Jack, come on. It's stakeout time.

What makes you think that?

He kind of opened up to me.

I was sitting there talking to him, and he said he thinks I'm sexy.

They're trained to lie.

You know, Diane, he just got back from Ankara, and he says that I'm cuter than any of the Bulgarian girls he saw there.

Well, I'm not surprised.

Ankara is in Turkey.

Great. I really wanted to know that.

Another fascinating fact from the answer geek.

What's the matter with her?

Why are you always doing that?

You're always correcting people.

No, I'm not.

Oh, I stand corrected.

Oh, come on. That doesn't count.

I'm wrong again, coach.

All I said was it doesn't sound like he knows what he's talking about.

Who in the world would make the mistake of thinking that Ankara is in Bulgaria?

No, Francis wouldn't.

If you're a spy, then how come you're sitting with your back to the door?

Because I can see the door reflected in your beautiful eyes.

That old line.

Your eyes remind me of an etching that I once bought in Norway.

I paid 200 guilders for it.

The currency in Norway is the krone.

Oh, Diane...

If you have a license to k*ll, can I use it a second?

She's right.

She is? Of course!

That's how we broke down Norway's economic system...

By infiltrating the government with foreign currency.

Is that right?

Oh, Diane.

That way we undermined the people's confidence in their totalitarian regime.

Aha!

Norway doesn't have a totalitarian regime.

Aha!

[Whistles]

Hey! Get over here!

Pardonez-moi.

I believe my employer craves a word.

You bellowed?

Yeah. Yeah, I did.

What are you trying to do?

I don't believe that guy's a spy for one minute.

I think he's lying.

What? A customer in a bar is telling tall tales just to impress a cocktail waitress?

Call 60 minutes.

All right.

When you put it that way...

The thing is... Look, look, listen.

Why do you suppose people come to bars in the first place, huh?

Oh, let me take a wild s*ab at that one.

Perchance to drink?

Wrong. Wrong. They can do that at home.

They come here to sh**t off their mouths and get away with it.

Listen, in this bar, everybody gets to be the hero.

Now what's the harm?

Sam, any kind of lie is eventually destructive.

I was raised and educated to prize truth above all else.

This from a woman wearing rubber eyelashes and a padded bra.

That's a lie.

I'm gonna need some proof.

Look, look, all I'm saying is if this guy wants to be a spy, humor him, indulge him a little bit.

Sam...

Come on. What's the big deal?

[Sigh] Ok, ok, he's a spy.

Uh...

Excuse me.

Uh, Carla here...

She inadvertently blew your cover before.

Oh, boy.

So I understand you're in the spy game, huh?

Sir, what's it like to be a spy?

We swear... not a word you say will ever go beyond this room, right?

We never go beyond this room.

Can I...

Really trust you chaps?

Oh, yeah, sure. Trust us.

Everybody swear.

Cross my heart.

What you've got to understand is that we're not all like what we're portrayed in the cinema.

You know, we don't think of ourselves as heroes.

We're just out there doing a job.

Putting our lives on the line for democracy.

Tell us about your most hair-raising mission, huh?

You ever get betrayed in the sack by a Russian babe?

Let me tell you something about Russian women.

The cold weather makes them very passionate.

Lake wannamucket, here I come.

You asked me about my most exciting adventure.

I think of rumania, 1973.

Yes.

I was captured by the dreaded rpb.

[Gasps]

Ooh! The rpb.

They are every bit as fiendish as you've heard.

They even used the infamous twister on me, the devils.

What's the twister?

It's a ride at coney island.

Those animals.

Hey, Diane, why don't you just shut up, huh?

Carla, he's been lying to you.

No, he hasn't.

Hey, you are not a history expert.

You majored in poetry.

Tell her you haven't been lying, Eric.

Hey, tell her you haven't been lying, Eric.

She's absolutely right.

You mean you've been lying the whole time?

The whole time.

Let me get this straight here.

Cold weather does not make women passionate?

I'll see Vera in the spring. What the hell.

Why did you lie to us?

Because...

My life is...

Very unexciting, and it's...

Very dull.

I've been a failure at everything I've ever tried to do, but you know, sometimes late at night, in a friendly bar, I sometimes can make someone believe that I'm interesting...

But you're much too smart for me.

You don't need any delusions.

Good night, miss.

Before you say anything, I would just like you to know that I could not feel any worse than I do at this very moment.

I'm so sorry.

I forgot the tip.

Merry Christmas.

Wrong again.

I failed. I blew it.

I quit.

I don't belong in a place like this and there's no point in arguing about it.

Who's arguing?

I'm opinionated. I'm stubborn. I am smug.

A little louder. They can't hear you in the back room.

I wouldn't have believed it, but I'm a total washout as a cocktail waitress.

I don't belong here.

Stay in touch, kid.

Carla.

Diane, Diane. Please, listen.

I don't know exactly what's going on here, but it looks like you booted a grounder, right?

Right. You know what I used to say to one of my ball players when he made a mental error?

What?

Nothing. That's why I got fired.

Diane, come back, wait, come back here.

Come back here.

Look, you made a mistake, that's all.

Now make up for it.

Go find the poor guy, bring him back here, and apologize.

Well, that's a wonderful idea, but I wouldn't know where to begin to look for him.

Well, I think your British embassy could probably help you there, and I've got a pretty good ear for dialects.

My instincts tell me limey.

His name is Eric Finch.

All right. I'll do it.

I am going to comb this city!

I'll look everywhere, every hotel, every restaurant, every cheap diner.

I'm going to find this man or die trying.

Excuse me.

Look who's back!

I just came back to try and explain to you why I did what I did.

Don't bother. Come on. No!

Coach: Mr. Finch, come on, will ya?

Everybody in the bar exaggerates a little.

Sure. For example, I'm not really this good-looking.

Everybody in bars tells stories.

You just got a little carried away there, that's all.

That's right. I'm afraid I'm the victim of an over active imagination.

You see, when you spend 12 hours a day in a room alone writing, writing, writing, sometimes you just lose touch with reality!

So I'm awfully sorry, and I beg your pardon, and good night.


No, no.

You write?

Yes.

Mostly verse.

Farewell.

Ah, wait!

You write poetry?

I'd love to hear some.

We all would. Huh?

Sure, sure. Yeah. Oh, yeah.

You know, it's, uh, it's not often we have a guy in here who can write poetry.

We got a guy in the men's room, Sam, who writes some terrific stuff.

Gin and bitters, right?

Yes. Thank you.

Are you published?

Oh, no, no, I...

I don't even send my stuff in.

I'm not really very good.

Oh! Don't be silly. Let me be the judge of that.

I majored in poetry.

I thought you majored in philosophy.

No, it was psychology, but that was before literature and after French.

No, no. That was after art history.

And before anthropology.

No, no. We're forgetting Indian studies again.

Yeah, and manchurian folk dancing.

All right.

Anyway, I would love to see some of your work.

Well, I just don't have anything with me at the moment.

Except it's all in here...

And... here.

I must hear one.

Really? Yes!

All right. I'll try something.

See, how did that go?

The she I love...

Alas, in vain...

Floats before my slumbering eyes.

And when she comes, she lulls my pain.

And when she goes, what pangs arise.

My god, that's lovely.

I kind of liked it.

What do you think, there, sir norm?

I think it'll look great up on the tiles.

Mr. Finch, I am awestruck.

Me, too. Great.

Please, tell us more.

Well, maybe not so soon after the first one.

Give us a little chance to rub down the goose bumps.

This is a night I will never forget.

It so happens that I am on speaking terms with one of the poetry editors at the Atlantic monthly.

Yes. He spoke at my college once.

I'm going to call him and tell him about you.

Wait, uh... Wait...

Aren't you getting a little carried away here?

May I have the phone?

Yes, and loving it.

Humoring the guy is one thing. I mean, he can have all the fantasies he wants in my bar.

But don't you think you're going a little too far to make him feel good?

Sam, the poem that he wrote is excellent.

Scratch a liar, find a poet.

No, no. So he memorized one. What's that prove?

Sam, we are now in my area of expertise.

When you want to talk about poetry, you come to me.

When you want to talk about jock itch, come to you.

Yes. May I speak to him, please?

This is Diane chambers.

He's chatting with John updike?

Well... interrupt.

No, I'm not kidding.

I have something that is going to make John updike seem like pretty small pommes de terre.

Diane, I wouldn't do this if I were you.

Yes, I'll wait.

Would you leave me alone, please?

Mr. Finch, he really should hear this directly from you.

Will you come over, please?

What is your best work?

Well, there's a little something that I dashed off this morning I'm proud of.

Yes. Hello, my name is Diane chambers.

Yes, I know you're very busy, but I have a wonderful surprise for you.

Please, just listen for a moment.

First alert, cliffie.

Strap yourself in, pal.

Dive, dive.

Ooh-ga, ooh-ga.

Excuse me, we are about to make literary history here.

Hello?

My heart is like a singing bird whose nest is in the watered sh**t.

Now, that's a poet.

My heart is like an apple tree whose bough is bent with thick-set fruit.

My heart is like a rainbow shell that paddles on a halcyon sea.

My heart is gladder than all these things because my love has come to me.

The nuns taught us that in school.

I get tears just remembering it.

No fooling. Tears?

Yeah. They used to whack us with their beads.

Ah, yes, rosetti. You're right. Ha ha!

Thank you for settling that bet. Wonderful.

Now, to whom could I speak about a subscription? I...

I don't believe this guy. I mean, you cannot believe a word that comes out of his mouth.

You know, if you could fix tvs and cr*ck walnuts on your forehead, you could be my ex-husband.

Mr. Finch, or whatever, I don't know what your real story is...

And believe me, the last thing I want is for you to tell me...

But I want to thank you for entertaining us here tonight.

I'm really glad you came.

Thank you very much.

My real name is Thomas hilliard III.

Well, whatever.

You know, you have a very charming saloon here.

Thank you. I'm glad you like it.

To show you how much I like it, I'd like to buy it.

[Laughter]

How much is it worth to you, Sam?

This guy's not gonna give up.

Wait, wait, wait, wait. Um, let me guess, let me guess.

You are, uh, an eccentric millionaire who hangs around bars and, uh, tells stories about himself just so he can have fun with the people, right?

You're kinda like Howard Hughes, huh, Mr. Hilliard?

Please don't mention that name.

He d*ed owing me money.

Well, Sam, how much?

Ah, well, this is kind of sudden.

I guess, what, 20, 30 people come through the doors every night...

$1 million seems fair to me.

You've got it.

Hey, Sammy, I think you're forgetting the jukebox.

He's right. I'm sorry. $2 million.

I think you're taking advantage of me, Sam.

Hey, look at me, everybody.

Scratch a bartender, find a millionaire.

This is not funny anymore.

I was right about him from the start.

He's a sick, sick man with a very warped sense of humor.

He doesn't care who he hurts.

I won't take it anymore.

He's a pathological liar.

Diane.

Excuse me, Mr. Hilliard.

Oh, my... God.

I just wanted to let you know I'm here with the car.

Thank you, Robert. I'm ready to go.

I'm sorry we couldn't do business, Sam.

$1.5 million, and I'll throw in a blonde waitress.

Those papers you've been waiting for have arrived from Geneva, sir.

Hilliard: I'll sign them on the plane.

[Indistinct chatter]

Oh, Sam, will you ever be able to forgive me?

Oh, come on. I'd never sell this place.

Hey, I got the date.

I've never felt so abused.

I was wrong every step of the way.

I thought he was lying when he was telling the truth and that he was telling the truth when he was lying.

From now on, I will not believe anything anybody says on any subject.

Oh, come on. You don't mean that. Are you serious?

You bet I am.

You know, I think I'm falling in love with you.

Really?
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