Met Sergeant: Hello, Nicholas.
Nicholas Angel: Hello, Sergeant.
Met Sergeant: How's the hand?
Nicholas Angel: Still a bit stiff.
Met Sergeant: It can get awfully hairy out there. I'm surprised you weren't snapped up sooner for a nice desk job, that's what I did.
Nicholas Angel: I like to think my office is out on the street.
Met Sergeant: Indeed you do. Your arrest record is 400% higher than any other officer, which is high time such skills were put to better use. We're making you Sergeant.
Nicholas Angel: I see. Where?
Met Sergeant: In Sandford, Gloucestershire.
Nicholas Angel: But that's... in the country?
Met Sergeant: Yes! Lovely.
Nicholas Angel: Isn't there a Sergeant's position here in London?
Met Sergeant: No.
Nicholas Angel: Can I remain here as a PC?
Met Sergeant: No.
Nicholas Angel: Do I have any choice in this?
Met Sergeant: No!
Nicholas Angel: Sergeant, I kinda like it here.
Met Sergeant: Well, you've always wanted a transfer to the country.
Nicholas Angel: In twenty years or so, yes.
Met Sergeant: Well done you.
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