新华社：第一次全国可移动文物普查成果在京发布

Dialogue 1:
Passenger: West London Air Terminal, please. I have to be there by 11:10.
Taxi Driver: I can't promise, but I'll do my best.
Taxi Driver: You're just in time. Seventy pence, please.
Passenger: Thanks a lot. Here's eighty pence. You can keep the change.

Dialogue 2:
Passenger: Do you think you can get me to Victoria by half past?
Taxi Driver: We should be OK if the lights are with us.
Taxi Driver: You've still got five minutes to spare. Seventy pence, please.
Passenger: Thanks very much indeed. Here's a pound, give me twenty pence, please.

Dialogue 3:
Passenger: Piccadilly, please. I have an appointment at 10:30.
Taxi Driver: I think we can make it if we get a move on.
Taxi Driver: Here we are, sir. Eighty pence, please.
Passenger: Many thanks. Let's call it a pound.

Dialogue 4:
Passenger: Paddington, please. I want to catch the 11:15.
Taxi Driver: We'll be all right if there are no hold-ups.
Taxi Driver: This is it, sir. Seventy pence, please.
Passenger: Thank you. Here's the fare, and this is for you.


—No luck then, John?
—Afraid not, sir. Not yet, anyhow. We're still checking on stolen cars.
—Mm.
—Where do you think he'll head for, sir?
—Well, he definitely won't try to leave the country yet. He may try to get a passport, and he'll certainly need clothes and money. He'll probably get in touch with Cornfield for those, so I expect he'll make for Birmingham.
—Right. I'll put some men on the house.
—Yes, do that. Mind you, I doubt if he'll show up there in person. Hammond's no fool, you know. I should think he'll probably telephone.
—What about his wife?
—Mm. I shouldn't think he'll go anywhere near her—though he might get her to join him after he's left the country. And when he does leave, he probably won't use a major airport, either. So you'd better alert the coastguard, and keep an eye on the private airfields.
—Right, sir. I'd better get his description circulated.
—Yes. He may change his appearance, of course, but I don't expect he'll be able to do much about the tattoos ... And John—be careful. He could be armed. And if I know Hammond, he certainly won't give himself up without a fight.


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Man: I want to do something tonight for a change, let's go out.
Brian: All right, let's go to the movies.
Woman: In this heat? Are you joking?
Brian: We can go to an outdoor movie. Do you think I'd suggest an indoor one in the middle of the summer in San Diego?
Man: I'd rather go out for a meal.
Woman: Yes, that sounds a better idea. The outdoor movies are so uncomfortable.
Brian: Why don't we do both at the same time? We could pick up some take-away food and eat it in the movie.
Man: That sounds like fun. What a good idea.
Woman: But they never show any good films in the summer. At least not any of the new ones. All you get is the old classics.
Brian: And what's wrong with them?
Woman: Oh nothing, it's just that we've seen them all half a dozen times.
Brian: But that's why they're classics. They're worth seeing again and again.
Man: You've got a point there, Brian. My main objection to outdoor movies is that you can never hear properly. You hear all the traffic from outside.
Brian: Well, we can find a foreign film with subtitles, then you don't need to hear the sound.
Woman: Supposing it's a musical.
Brian: Oh trust you to say that! I think it would be fun to sit watching an old film and eating a meal at the same time.
Woman: Last time I went to an outdoor movie, I bought a bar of chocolate to eat as I went in. It was a horror film and I was so shocked I just sat there holding my bar of chocolate until the interval when I found it had melted in my hand and run all down my dress. That was an expensive evening out.
Man: Well, we won't go and see a horror film, darling, and take-away meals don't melt.


Presenter: Good evening and welcome to "Interesting Personalities." Tonight we've got a real treat in store for you. We have here in the studio Mrs. Annie Jarman of Bristol.
Mrs. Jarman: Hello. That's me.
Presenter: Say hello to the listeners, Mrs. Jarman.
Mrs. Jarman: I just did. Hello again.
Presenter: Now Mrs. Jarman is eighty-four years old.
Mrs. Jarman: Nearly eighty-four.
Presenter: Sorry, nearly eighty-four years old and she holds ...
Mrs. Jarman: Not quite.
Presenter: Yes, I explained. Now Mrs. Jarman holds the English record ...
Mrs. Jarman: Eighty-three years, ten months and fifteen days.
Presenter: Good, well, now that we've got that out of the way.
Mrs. Jarman holds the English record for having failed her driving test the most times.
Mrs. Jarman: I'm still trying.
Presenter: Quite. Now precisely how many times have you failed your driving test, Mrs. Jarman?
Mrs. Jarman: Well, the last attempt last Wednesday brought it up to fifty-seven times.
Presenter: Over how long a period?
Mrs. Jarman: Twenty-eight years.
Presenter: What do you think is the cause of this record number of failures?
Mrs. Jarman: Bad driving.
Presenter: Yes, quite. Well, it would be. But in what way do you drive badly?
Mrs. Jarman: Every way.
Presenter: Every way?
Mrs. Jarman: Yes. I hit thing. That's the really big problem, but I'm working on that. Also I can't drive round corners. Each time I come to a corner I just drive straight on.
Presenter: Ah, yes, that would be a problem.
Mrs. Jarman: It causes havoc at roundabouts.
Presenter: I can imagine. And how many examiners have you had in all this time?
Mrs. Jarman: Fifty-seven. None of them would examine me twice. Several left the job, said it was too dangerous. One of them got out of the car at the end of the test, walked away and was never seen again.
Presenter: Oh dear. But why do you drive so badly?
Mrs. Jarman: I blame the examiners. It's all their fault. They don't do their job properly.
Presenter: Really? In what way?
Mrs. Jarman: They distract my attention. They keep talking to me. Turn left, turn right, park here. By the time I've turned round to ask them what they said we're half way through a field or slowly sinking into a pond surrounded by ducks. They should keep quiet and let me concentrate.
Presenter: But they have to tell you where to go, Mrs. Jarman.
Mrs. Jarman: Then they should give me time to stop each time before speaking to me. Why do you think they have those notices on the buses, 'Do not speak to the driver', eh? I'm surprised there aren't more accidents.
Presenter: How long do your tests usually last, Mrs. Jarman?
Mrs. Jarman: Two or three minutes. Not longer. They've usually jumped out by then. Except the last one.
Presenter: And how long did that last?
Mrs. Jarman: Four hours and twenty-five minutes, exactly, from beginning to end.
Presenter: Four hours and twenty-five minutes?
Mrs. Jarman: Yes. You see, I'd got on the motorway and as I told you I can't turn right or left, so we didn't stop until I hit a post box just outside London.
Presenter: And was the examiner still with you?
Mrs. Jarman: Oh, yes, he'd fainted much earlier on.
Presenter: Well, there we are. That's the end of "Interesting Personalities" for this week. Thank you Mrs. Jarman for coming along and telling us about your experiences with cars.
Mrs. Jarman: Can I just say a word?
Presenter: Er ... yes. Go ahead.
Mrs. Jarman: I'd just like to say if there are any driving instructors in the Bristol area listening in, well, I'd like to say thank you very much and my offer to pay double still holds good if any of them will come back. Thank you.
Presenter: Thank you, Mrs. Jarman, and good night.
Mrs. Jarman: I won't give up.


A psychiatrist who has studied the legend of Bonnie and Clyde compares the characters of the two.
Interviewer: So in your book why do you focus more on Bonnie than you have on Clyde?
Shivel: Bonnie had something which Clyde completely lacked. Style. And she was also far more intelligent than he was. Without her, there never would have a legend. He was just a rather stupid hoodlum who got into difficult situations almost by accident and then started shooting wildly. She was a much warmer, more generous person.
Interviewer: But she could be very ruthless, couldn't she? I mean what about that policeman she shot in Grapevine, Texas? Didn't she laugh about it?
Shivel: Well, first of all, we don't know if that's what actually happened. A farmer says he saw her shoot the second policeman and then laugh. That's the only evidence we have that she actually did that. But even if the story is true, the whole incident illustrates this warmer, almost motherly, side to her character.
Interviewer: Motherly? How does the incident of shooting a policeman illustrate that she was motherly?
Shivel: Well ... uh ... just let me finish. You see, the day before the shooting, Bonnie and Clyde were driving about with a pet rabbit in the car. Bonnie's pet rabbit. Clyde started complaining because the rabbit stank. So they stopped and washed the rabbit in a stream. The rabbit almost died because of the shock of the very cold water. Bonnie got very worried, and wrapped the rabbit in a blanket and held it close to her as they drove on. Then, the next morning, when the rabbit still wasn't any better, she made Clyde stop and build a fire. She was sitting in front of that fire, trying to get the rabbit warm when the two policemen drove up and got out. Probably the policemen had no idea who was there. They just wanted to see who was burning a fire and why. A moment later, as we know, they were both dead. All because of that pet rabbit which Bonnie wanted to mother. And ...uh ... perhaps ... in a strange way, Clyde was something like a pet rabbit, too. She was attracted to him because he was weaker than she was and needed someone to mother him. It's strange, you know, but strong, intelligent women are often attracted to such men ... weaker than they are ... men who are like children, or pet rabbits.


Psychiatrist: Goodbye Mr. er ... um ... er ... Just keep taking those tablets and you'll be all right in no time. Next please. Good morning, Mrs. er ... your first visit, is it?
Mrs. Parkinson: Yes, doctor.
Psychiatrist: I see. Well, let me just fill in this form. Name?
Mrs. Parkinson: Parkinson. Enid Parkinson. (Crunch) Mrs.
Psychiatrist: So you're married, Mrs. Parkinson.
Mrs. Parkinson: (Crunch) Yes.
Psychiatrist: I see. Now, your date of birth, please.
Mrs. Parkinson: Wednesday the twelfth of June.
Psychiatrist: No, not your birthday, Mrs. Parkinson. Your date of birth.
Mrs. Parkinson: (Crunch) Twelfth of June 1946. But not a word to my husband, mind, he thinks it was 1956.
Psychiatrist: 1946. Right. Now, What seems to be the trouble?
Mrs. Parkinson: (Crunch) Well, it's nothing very much, doctor. It's just that (crunch) I can't stop (crunch) eating these crisps (crunch).
Psychiatrist: Yes, I had noticed that you seemed to be getting through rather a lot of them. Er ... do you mind picking up those two empty bags off the floor, please? Thank you. Now, when did this problem start?
Mrs. Parkinson: (Crunch) About six months ago. My husband and I won a. huge box of crisps in a talent competition. And we've not been able (crunch) to stop eating them ever since. It's costing us a fortune. (Crunch)
Psychiatrist: I see. Now, what do you think about when you're eating these crisps?
Mrs. Parkinson: More (crunch) crisps.
Psychiatrist: I see. And what do the crisps remind you of?
Mrs. Parkinson: (Crunch) Potatoes. (Crunch) Potato crisps. (Crunch) All nice, crisp and golden brown with plenty of salt on them.
Psychiatrist: I see. But don't they remind you of anything else?
Mrs. Parkinson: (Crunch) Cheese. Cheese crisps. Cheddar crisps. Roquefort crisps. Edam crisps. Oh, I'd definitely say they remind me of cheese.
Psychiatrist: Yes, they certainly seem to do that. Does anything else come to mind when you're eating these vast amounts of crisps?
Mrs. Parkinson: Not much, apart from crisps, doctor. (Crunch) If I'm really on form I can work up an appetite for, oh, paprika crisps, or shrimp crisps or even ham and bacon crisps.
Psychiatrist: And have you made any effort to stop eating these crisps?
Mrs. Parkinson: Oh, no. I wouldn't want to (crunch) eat anything else. I like my crisps.
Psychiatrist: But if you don't want to stop eating them, why come to a psychiatrist?
Mrs. Parkinson: (Crunch) Well, it's the noise, doctor. (Crunch) My husband complains he can't hear the telly. And the neighbors bang on the walls late at night. (Crunch) Say they can't sleep. I've offered them a whole box so that ... so that they can do the same, but (crunch) they say they'd rather sleep.
Psychiatrist: I should have thought earplugs would have been a more sensible thing to offer them.
Mrs. Parkinson: Earplugs! That's it! The problem's solved. (Crunch) Thank you. Thank you very much, doctor.
Psychiatrist: Er ... Mrs ... um ...
Mrs. Parkinson: Parkinson.
Psychiatrist: Parkinson, yes. Er ... could I have a crisp?
Mrs. Parkinson: Certainly, (crunch) doctor. Here, have a couple of bags.
Psychiatrist: Oh, thank you, Mrs. Parkinson. Oh, paprika with cheese. (Crunch) Thank you so much and good day. (Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch)