Hugh 'Bulldog' Drummond: I've been bored too long. I can't stand it any more. I'm too rich to work, too intelligent to play (much); I tell you, if something doesn't happen within the next few days, I'll explode.
Algy Longworth: I don't know what to suggest, dear old boy, unless you advertised... and you, you can't very well do that, can you?
Hugh 'Bulldog' Drummond: I don't know, I might. I rather think that's an inspiration, Algy, by Jove I do! I didn't know you had it in you. Say, barman, give me a piece of paper and a pencil. Now, let's see: "To the Editor, Personal Column, The Times, London. Demobilized officer, finding peace unbearably tedious..."
Algy Longworth: Dear old boy, you're not serious!
[Dissolve to the printed ad, which continues: "... would welcome any excitement. Legitimate, if possible, but crime of humorous description, no objection."]

Hugh 'Bulldog' Drummond: On second thought, never mind the pyjamas. Just the toothbrush and the gun.

Hugh 'Bulldog' Drummond: You must admit it's rather like a penny thriller.

[first lines]
[in the silence of the club room, the waiter drops a spoon. Slowly the elderly Colonel stands up, and then... ]
Colonel: Pah! The eternal din in this club is an outrage! I ask you, wot?
Algy Longworth: You're perfectly right, Colonel. We ought to complain. Do you know that's the third spoon I've heard drop this month?
Hugh 'Bulldog' Drummond: Spoons, my hat. I wish that somebody would throw a bomb and wake the place up.