HENSON: Well, Morris, did you make a note of all that?

MORRIS: Better than that, sir. I recorded it on my portable tape-recorder.

HENSON: Hmm, very clever. Well, there's no time to waste. Let's go to the tennis match....

TENNIS UMPIRE: Fifteen - love! Thirty - love!

ELDERLY SPECTATOR: Gavrilov is giving the match away!

UMPIRE: Forty - love!

SPECTATOR: How could he have missed that last shot? a child could have hit it, it was so easy!

HUGO: He is up against a superior player. Sanchez will be this year's champion, there's no doubt about it. After all, he's beaten Gavrilov the last three times they've met.

UMPIRE: Game and second set to Mr Sanchez!

SPECTATOR: And Gavrilov's lost another set! I don't agree with you; Sanchez doesn't deserve to win the championship. He may have more physical strength than Gavrilov, but Gavrilov is a more skillful player.

LINESMAN: Out!

GAVRILOV: What was that?

UMPIRE: The ball was out, Mr Gavrilov.

GAVRILOV: You've got to be joking! That ball was inside the line.

UMPIRE: It was quite clearly out.

GAVRILOV: Oh, sure, sure, the ball was out. Remind me; we're playing soccer, right? And my name’s George Washington.

SANCHEZ: Hey, come on man, you're wasting time! Let's get on with the match. That ball was out; get on with your service.

UMPIRE: Will you please keep out of this, Mr Sanchez? I’m the umpire, and I decide when Mr Gavrilov serves.

SANCHEZ: Hey, don't you give me that patronizing crap! Like, who the hell do you think you are, man? Geez!

GAVRILOV: Now who's wasting time? What is this: a tennis match, or the United Nations?

UMPIRE: Will you both be quiet, please! We'll continue the match; Mr Gavrilov to serve!

SANCHEZ: This has got to be some kind of comedy show!

UMPIRE: Fifteen - love! Thirty - love!

SPECTATOR: It's outrageous! Umpires are supposed to be neutral; they shouldn't take sides in disputes between players.

HUGO: I know, he obviously favors Gavrilov. He's prejudiced against Hispanics, I suppose.

SPECTATOR: What? He's outrageously prejudiced in favor of that awful Sanchez character; I would have thought that was obvious.

HUGO: What happened just then? It looked as though Sanchez missed the shot deliberately.

SANCHEZ: I've had enough of this, man! I'm quitting!

UMPIRE: What's the matter now, Mr Sanchez?

SANCHEZ: That guy is cheating, man! He's putting me off my game!

UMPIRE: In what way is he cheating? I haven't noticed anything.

SANCHEZ: That's because you're asleep, man! I tell you he's cheating, and you're supposed to stop him. You're not doing your job!

GAVRILOV: Is that guy nuts? How am I supposed to be cheating? Look - I've got one racquet, and one pair of hands! He's just putting psychological pressure on me, that's all.

UMPIRE: Would you please stay out of this, Mr Gavrilov? Now, Mr Sanchez, will you please explain why you've accused Mr Gavrilov of cheating?

SANCHEZ: He's the one that's got the explaining to do! Why's he got those buttons on his shirt?

UMPIRE: His buttons? What about them?

SANCHEZ: He's got those metal buttons on his shirt, see, and he's polished them, OK - so the damn sun shines off them, right in my damn eyes, every time he serves. And you haven't noticed anything, because you're half asleep!

UMPIRE: Well, yes, I can see, that would be rather disturbing; perhaps...

GAVRILOV: You're not going to listen to all that crap, are you? I never heard such garbage in my life! Listen, that guy's been trying to use thought control against me throughout the match, but I haven't complained.

UMPIRE: Gentlemen, please!

SANCHEZ: What? Thought control? The guy's out of his mind! Somebody do us all a favor, and lock him up!

GAVRILOV: I've noticed the way you keep staring at me; you're trying to control my mind. I've read all about it, it's an old CIA technique.

SANCHEZ: Oh yeah? So who sewed the buttons on your shirt - the damn KGB?

UMPIRE: Listen, I’m going to have to suspend the game if you don’t stop this nonsense!

SPECTATOR: Ah, tennis isn't what it used to be!

HUGO: It's a lot more entertaining, if you ask me.

SPECTATOR: Nobody behaves properly any more, not even among the spectators. Look how that man's pushing past everybody!

HUGO: No! It looks like - it can't be - Roger Temple! I must get out of here!

HUGO: Excuse me! May I get past? Can I get past, please?

MORRIS: Here we are, sir, this is Number One Court. And that looks like the guy we saw in the hotel, doesn't it?

HENSON: Er, yes. Can you see where he's heading for, Morris? I can’t quite make it out.

MORRIS: There's a guy in the second row from the front who's just got up; he seems to be in a hurry. He could well be Peters, as far as I can tell from here. So, shall we go after them, sir?

HENSON: Yes, yes, of course!