Sergeant: Hello Nicholas. Nicholas Angel: Hello Sergeant. Sergeant: How's the hand? Nicholas Angel: Still a bit stiff. 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'd do. Nicholas Angel: I'm afraid I think my office is out on the street. Sergeant: Indeed you do! Your arrest record is four hundred percent higher than any other officer, which is why it's high time that such... skills... were put to better use. We're making you sergeant. Nicholas Angel: I see. Sergeant: [mumbles] Nicholas Angel: In where, sorry? Sergeant: In Sandford, Gloucestershire. Nicholas Angel: But that's in the country... Sergeant: Yes! Lovely! Nicholas Angel: Isn't there a sergeant's position here in London? Sergeant: Oh, no. Nicholas Angel: Can I remain here as a PC? Sergeant: No. Nicholas Angel: Do I have any choice in this? Sergeant: No! Nicholas Angel: Sergeant, I kinda like it here. Sergeant: Well, you've always wanted a transfer to the country. Nicholas Angel: In twenty years or so, yes. Sergeant: Well done you.