Cyril We're in the land of poo. Duck poo, hen poo, cow poo, goat poo. Poo as far as the eye can see.
B Blenkinsop
Here we are then. Out you get.
Cyril In fact, it's a British museum of poo.
Have you gone completely insane, Blenkinsop? Mummy would never send me to a place like this. Take me home. [screams as Vincent frightens her] You see?! They are savages. I refuse to leave the car!
Cyril Oh, put a sock in it, Ceels! We've got no choice.
Cyril And you know why we haven't got a choice too. So let's just stop pretending we're here because of bombs.
They're probably cannibals! Did you see that thing out the window?
Cyril Greetings, O covered-in-poo people. Do you speak English?
Cyril Yes, poo man. We've come from far away. Far from the land of soap and indoor toilets.
[seeing that Cyril has grabbed Mr. Green's jam jar]
No!
Put the jam down. [he and Cyril stare at each other]
Cyril [scoffs]
It's only jam.
M Megsie
In case you hadn't noticed, there's a war on. We saved our sugar coupons for months to make that jam. You touch it, and I'll mash you.
Cyril Oops. Touched it.
I'm going to wake up and this will all be a nasty dream. [Norman, Megsie and Vincent start chasing Cyril] I'm going to wake up, and I'll be in Harrods with Mummy. The shoe department. My maid tells me they have arrived, so Mummy and I have come to collect them. Would you go and fetch them for me? I'm going to wake up and there'll be some pink patent pumps.
Cyril Ceels, catch! [slides Mr. Green's jam jar]
[still ranting]
Mummy's already ordered a beautiful pair in mauve with a matching cloak, and I gather they will be here today.
[Cyril has just indirectly shattered Mr. Green's jam jar]
That's it. They die.
Good evening, Mrs. Green. I am Nanny McPhee.
I Isabel
Oh, you’re it! I mean, her. Who-who are you?
I am Nanny McPhee. Small C, Big P.
I Isabel
Right. Thing is, I haven’t hired a nanny. I don’t need a nanny. I’m managing perfectly well. I never had a nanny because I don’t want a nanny.
I am an army nanny, Mrs. Green, I have been deployed.
I Isabel
No, no, no, no there must be some mistake everything’s under control here.
Cyril Get away from me, you oik from Hell!
I Isabel
That’s Cyril. He’s not mine. He's their cousin.
Come back here, you parasitic poshie!
I Isabel
And that's Norman. He is mine. They've just met. They're getting to know each other...through play.
Kill the townies and eat their heads!
I Isabel
It's the war. Not a very good influence.
I Isabel
Must you? I mean, yes of course you must. Tea?
Perhaps later. Let me introduce myself to the children.
Why don’t you put the kettle on? I shan't be a moment.
In the absence of any spare beds, Norman, I presume, will be sharing with Cyril?
[scoffs]
I'd rather share with a goat.
Cyril A goat wouldn't have you, and neither will I.
I see. Celia, Megsie, would you be willing to share the bed?
I'm not sharing anything with that vicious harpy!
M Megsie
I'd rather share with Geraldine!
She’s our cow. And I'd rather share with...an elephant!
Thank you, Vincent, but you will not be required to share.
Haha! I don't have to share! I don’t have to share!
