Agatha Christie's Poirot

From Wikiquote
Jump to navigation Jump to search

Agatha Christie's Poirot (1989–2013) is a British television drama that has aired on ITV from 1989 to 2013. It stars David Suchet as Agatha Christie's fictional detective Hercule Poirot. It was originally made by LWT and is now made by ITV Studios. In the United States, it airs as Poirot.

Season 1[edit]

The Adventure Of The Clapham Cook [1.1][edit]

Hastings: [Reading headlines from the newspaper] "Belgravian Overseas Bank Clerk Absconds With Fortune".
Poirot: How much is this fortune?
Hastings: Er... 90,000 pounds.
Poirot: No.
Hastings: It's a king's ransom, Poirot!
Poirot: When it is used to ransom a king, it becomes interesting to Poirot.

Poirot: Unless the affair is one of national importance, I touch it not.

Mrs. Todd: Well, let me tell you, Mr. High-and-Mighty Poirot, a good cook is a good cook. And when you lose one, it's as much to you as pearls are to some fine lady.

Hastings: There doesn't seem to be any crime at all as far as I can see.
Poirot: No, it is a curious case. Full of contradictory features. I am interested. Yes, I am distinctly interested.

Poirot: Do they think they can get rid of Hercule Poirot like that? No! No-no-no-no-no-no! 36 times NO!!

Poirot: And you, Hastings, do not you run away with such celerity. I have work for you too.
Hastings: Oh! Er... As a matter of fact, I was thinking of popping down to Sandown this afternoon ... There's a horse running a pal of mine owns a leg of.
Poirot: When he owns four legs, I pop with you. But now it's time for work, yes?

Mr. Cameron: Newspapers love scandals about banks.
Poirot: That is human nature, Mr. Cameron. But it is comforting for us mere mortals to know that banks too have their difficulties.

Japp: Someone was trying to tell me you were going into the missing domestics business. "No, no," I said. "Not Poirot", I said. "Hard times or not, he wouldn't fall that far".

[As they trek through the muddy hillside to a cottage]
Hastings: Look at that view!
Poirot: Yes, well, views are very nice, Hastings. But they should be painted for us so that we can study them in the warmth and comfort of our own homes. That is why we pay the artist for exposing himself to these conditions on our behalf.
Hastings: What do you mean conditions? It's a wonderful day. Just fill your lungs with that air.
Poirot: No, my poor friend. This sort of air is intended for birds and little furry things. The lungs of Hercule Poirot demands something more substantial - the good air of the town!

Constable: Sarge, there's some French gent at the door.
Poirot: No-no-no-no, I am not some French gent. I am some Belgian gent.

Porter: [Annoyed by Hastings] I'm talking to the engineer, not the oil rag!

Poirot: [About the guinea he earned] It is to me, Hastings, a little reminder never to despise the trivial or the undignified. A disappearing domestic at one end, a cold-blooded murder at the other.

Murder In The Mews [1.2][edit]

[At Guy Fawkes Night]
Hastings: Where is Mrs. Japp tonight then?
Japp: She can't abide fireworks.
Poirot: Ah, the noise disturbs the delicate sensibilities of many ladies.
Japp: Maybe, maybe. I think it's more that she doesn't like to see people enjoying themselves.
Hastings: Tell you what though, what a good night for a murder, eh? I mean, if somebody wanted to kill anybody, nobody would know if it was a gunshot or a firework.
Poirot: But not so good, my friend, if your chosen method is strangulation.
Hastings: No. That's true, no.
Japp: Or poisoning, come to that.

Lemon: You won't forget your dental appointment at eleven, will you, Mr. Poirot?
Poirot: Hercule Poirot does not need to go to the dentist, Miss Lemon.
Lemon: You've put it off once already.
Poirot: My teeth are perfection. It is sacrilege to tamper with them.

Japp: [About Charles Laverton West, MP] What a stuffed fish. No, not a stuffed fish. A boiled owl.
Poirot: As you say, Japp. More concerned about the newspapers than his fiancée being dead.
Japp: The Plenderleith girl was quite right about him. Mind you, he's a good looking chap. Might go down well with some women.
Poirot: Perhaps. But it would not do, I think, for them to have a sense of humour.

[About complaint letters to Poirot's Chinese laundry service]
Lemon: When the boy brings your laundry back, he brings the letters back too for me to explain to him.
Poirot: And you do?
Lemon: No.
Poirot: Why not?
Lemon: I don't speak Chinese.
Poirot: So what do you say to him?
Lemon: Well, I say: "Him collar no very good starchy". I show him the collars and say it.
Poirot: Hastings, my friend, you spent some years in China, did you not?
Hastings: Absolutely. Fine fellows, fine fellows.
Poirot: Did you ever have any trouble with your laundry?
Hastings: Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.
Poirot: And what did you say to them?
Hastings: Well, I said: "Him collar no very good starchy".
Lemon: That's where I got it from, sir. I asked the Captain knowing he'd been in the East.
Poirot: But Hastings, my collars, they do not get any better.
Hastings: No. Neither did mine, now that I come to think about it. Why don't you get yourself some turn-down collars? They're much more the thing, you know.
Poirot: The "thing", Hastings? You think Poirot concerns himself with mere "thing"ness? The turn-down collar is the first symptom of decay of the grey cells!

Japp: That's something in your line, Poirot. You like chasing about after the kind of triviality that leads nowhere.

Poirot: The name of Poirot is feared on golf courses all over the continent.
Golfer: You don't happen to have a handicap certificate on you, do you, sir?
Poirot: No, no, I'm fine.

The Adventure Of Johnny Waverly [1.3][edit]

Lemon: [Listing how she catalogued Poirot's cases ] Abduction. Addiction. Adultery: See also under marriage. Bigamy: See also under marriage. Bombs...
Poirot: See also under marriage?

Poirot: Miss Lemon dreams of the perfect filing system besides which all other filing systems will sink into oblivion.

Poirot: I think better the safeness than the sorrow, Chief Inspector.

Marcus Waverly: [After an argument] Your superior shall hear of this! [Exits]
Japp: I hope he enjoys it as much as I have.

Poirot: Prevention of crime is not what policemen are best at. They will need to have one constable for every citizen and go everywhere with him. But fortunately for the human race, most of us have our own little policeman... [Gestures to his grey cells] ...up here.

Poirot: Hercule [pronounced Er-Kool]. Not Hercules, but Hercule.

Poirot: Some cases are simple and some are trés compliqué but all are of interest because all, you understand, rest solely on the character of the participant.

[Boarding Hastings' car]
Poirot: Not too fast, mind.
Hastings: Don't worry, I won't go over 80.
Poirot: Kilometers?
Hastings: Miles.

Japp: If there was to be any rough stuff, I don't know as Mr. Poirot'd be the first person I'd think of. Brainwork, yes. Rough stuff, dubious.

Hastings: [Trying to fix his car] Well, it's not the carburetor anyway.
Poirot: This is not what I long to hear, Hastings. I want to hear what it was, not what it was not. Better still, I want to hear the motor!

Poirot: When the time comes to act, Poirot will act.

Poirot: Ah, Hastings, the grey cells, sometimes they work even better in the dark.

Hastings: Why won't you let me drive you?
Poirot: Hastings, the train has one advantage over the car. It does not often run out of coal.

Four And Twenty Blackbirds [1.4][edit]

Poirot: Cricket, the English enigma. I know not of any other game where even the players are unsure of the rules.

Poirot: I have a dinner engagement with my dentist.
Hastings: Your dentist? That's positively morbid.
Lemon: But you're always trying to avoid him!
Poirot: Not at all. Off duty he's quite charming. Besides, he likes to see the end product at work.

Poirot: [About the uncharacteristic behaviour of a suspected murder victim] The mantle of life should fit like a well-tailored suit of clothes. But it did not hang so well on that old man on the restaurant.

Poirot: Let us hope, Chief Inspector, that the forensic sciences of which you are so proud does not replace every aspect of the detective's work. Let us hope that camaraderie will still pay a significant role.

Poirot: Hastings, this is a recipe of my mother - Rabbit cooked in the style of liège.
Hastings: Well, I'll bet it's better than rabbit cooked in the style of Hastings.
Poirot: Yes, that is quite funny, Hastings. However, when you are grown up, you will find that food is not a subject suitable for the humour.

[Where the title came from]
Poirot: Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a crumble.
Hastings: I think you mean pie, don't you?... What's all this about blackbirds, Poirot?
Poirot: That Saturday evening, Henry Gascoigne finished his meal with a blackbird or rather blackberry crumble.

Hastings: With both the brothers dead, there aren't many Gascoignes left to pay their respects.
Poirot: Not too many suspects left either, eh?

The Third Floor Flat [1.5][edit]

Lemon: It's only been three weeks since your last case.
Poirot: Three weeks is an eternity to a brain like mine. Without the constant stimulation, my little grey cells will starve and die.

Hastings: [The car]'s been running like a bird since I've fitted the new gaskets.
Poirot: Birds do not run, Hastings. When you were little, you should have paid more attention to your lessons in biology.
Hastings: You're really in a bad way, aren't you?
Poirot: Well, my friend, as one approaches the end, one begins to see life as it truly is.

Poirot: You know, Mademoiselle Patricia, I once loved a very young beautiful English girl who resembled you greatly. But, alas, she could not cook. And the relationship withered.

Hastings: [Grieving over his now totaled car] The front axle's sheared right through.
Poirot: Oh, mon pauvre Hastings. [With sudden enthusiasm] But you must not brood! You must occupy yourself, eh? Go and telephone the Chief Inspector Japp and tell him we have caught his fish.

Lemon: I've got your Friar's Balsam for you.
Poirot: My what?
Lemon: Your inhalant for your cold.
Poirot: Poirot does not have colds, Miss Lemon. It is well-known that Poirot scorns but the greatest of afflictions.
Lemon: But yesterday you-
Poirot: Miss Lemon, yesterday was yesterday. My tisane, if you please.

Triangle At Rhodes [1.6][edit]

Pamela Lyall: [Observing some Blackshirts ] Look at them. Troublemakers always looking for a fight.
Poirot: Perhaps. But for me, the English is more cold-blooded. His violence is more calculated.

Pamela Lyall: [Noticing what looks like the beginning of an extramarital affair] Don't you think that human beings tend to reproduce certain patterns, Mr. Poirot? [Draws a triangle] Stereotype patterns?
Poirot: Précisément, madamoiselle.

Poirot: Nature gives to the quarry of the viper a chance to identify his attacker. If every killer was as clearly marked, I would be without a job.

Poirot: The mullet was excellent.
Major Barnes: Glad you enjoyed it.
Poirot: Oh, yes. Where did you buy it?
Major Barnes: What do you mean? I had to go out a long way for that!
Poirot: No-no-no-no, Major. Your interests are closer to the shore.
Major Barnes: [Reluctantly] You're very sharp-eyed, Mr. Poirot.
Poirot: The sharp eyes are important in both our professions, Major.

Poirot: I feared such an outcome.
Pamela: Then why didn't you do something?
Poirot: Do what? What is there to do before the event? Tell the police someone has murder in their heart?

Pamela: There are so many streets. Where do we begin?
Poirot: Madamoiselle, we must now appear the mad English who go out in the midday sun. We must trust in the old town to give up her secrets.

Inspector: You crazy English! If you do not stop trying to kill each other, I shall put you all under arrest!

Problem At Sea [1.7][edit]

Mrs. Clapperton: "You're so alive, Adeline," they say to me. But really, Monsieur Poirot, what would one be, if one wasn't alive?
Poirot: Dead, madam.

General Forbes: You should get a bit of exercise, Ms. Henderson. Does you no good sitting around thinking, you know.
Ellie Henderson: No, I know. Unfortunately, my religion forbids it at this time of year.
Forbes: Oh... [Realises what she means] Oh!

Mrs. Clapperton: What was your name again?
Mrs. Tolliver: Tolliver. Mrs. Tolliver.
Mr. Tolliver: And I'm her husband, Mr. Tolliver.
Mrs. Clapperton: [Sarcastically] What a clever arrangement.

Kitty Mooney: [To Colonel Clapperton] You're coming with us. It's a kidnapping!
Pamela Cregan: A Clapperton-napping! Turn about deck!
Mrs. Clapperton: Don't be foolish, John. You'll catch a chill.
Kitty: Not with us, he won't. We're hot stuff.

Poirot: Many odious women have devoted husbands. It is an enigma of nature.

Poirot: Oh Hastings, Hastings.
Hastings: What?
Poirot: Whatever is the use of me introducing you to nice young ladies if all you do is talk about the shooting of the clay pigeons.
Hastings: But they like it. You heard what Ms. Henderson said. She'd love to talk about it tomorrow.
Poirot: [Shaking head] Oh Hastings, Hastings, Hastings.

Colonel Clapperton: [Why he won't play bridge] You see, any man who can deal his partner and adversaries any hand he pleases had better stand aloof from a friendly game of cards.

Kitty: We're trying to get [Colonel Clapperton] to ourselves for the day.
Pamela: Lure him into the souq.
Kitty: Cajole him into the kasbah.

Ellie: Was Colonel Clapperton alone when he came ashore?
Poirot: Was he alone? Let me think... Maybe someone was with him.
Ellie: Ms. Mooney and Ms. Cregan perhaps.
Poirot: Yes, yes, the two little girls. Yes.
Ellie: They're not children, Monsieur Poirot. Nor am I.

Bates: I've carried out my examination of the body, sir.
Captain Fowler: And?
Bates: Oh... [Checks his notebook] Um, the deceased died from a knife wound to the upper thorax, sir.
Captain: Good God, Bates. We can all see that for ourselves.
Bates: I'm sorry, sir. But I've only got me first aid book, haven't I.

Pamela: Kitty is making such a blessed racket. She blames herself, you see. Well... And me.
Poirot: But how can she blame herself?
Pamela: Well, we did say some pretty dreadful things about her.
Poirot: My dear Mademoiselle Cregan, if everyone on board who had said unpleasant things about Madam Clapperton were to make as much noise as your friend, this vessel would become a danger to shipping.

Poirot: You think, mon ami, that ladies do not commit murder?
Hastings: Ladies don't get found out.

Ellie: It was a cruel dirty trick you played, Monsieur Poirot.
Poirot: I do not approve of murder, mademoiselle.

The Incredible Theft [1.8][edit]

Poirot: Sometimes I think anonymous telephone calls are the only ones worth taking.
Lemon: But how will I know where to file her if I haven't got a name?
Poirot: Life first, Miss Lemon, filing second.
[After Miss Lemon leaves in a huff]
Hastings: You shouldn't tease her, Poirot.
Poirot: She makes it irresistible.

Lady Mayfield: You see what sort of woman she is.
Poirot: The sort of woman Mrs. Vanderlyn is does not make a matter of national importance.
Lady Mayfield: I do hope you're right.

Tommy Mayfield: Why do politicians treat everyone else like idiots?
Sir George Carrington: Probably because they voted for us in the first place.

Poirot: Can Poirot be of assistance? Finding the lost property is something of a profession of mine.

Poirot: It is a small problem merely. But a problem that will agitate the little grey cells most adequately.

Sir George: Froggy thinks she didn't do it.
Poirot: [Overhearing] Froggy knows she didn't do it.

Tommy: No need to go into that, Mister Poirot. Let sleeping dogs lie.
Poirot: No-no-no-no, Monsieur Mayfield, between the husband and the wife, there should not be the sleepy dogs.

Japp: Must be depressing for you when that sort of things happen, eh, Poirot?
Poirot: What sort of things?
Japp: Everything working out for the best. Some married couple ready for a second honeymoon. Orphan children reunited with their parents.
Poirot: Yes, it is hard. But we must put on it the brave face, eh? And not allow cheerfulness to keep breaking through.

The King Of Clubs [1.9][edit]

Poirot: Films are very boring, Hastings, but the actors who are paid to deceive us? Now they are interesting, eh?

Poirot: Ah, le famille, Hastings. No bond is so strong.

[Where the title came from]
Poirot: Hastings, this explains everything. There is no King of Clubs.

Poirot: In my country, we Belgians have a great respect for la mère de famille - the mother. She is all important.

Hastings: But I thought-
Poirot: No-no-no-no, Hastings.
Hastings: Look, it seems to me-
Poirot: My friend, you are barking up the wrong bush.

The Dream [1.10][edit]

Poirot: Hastings, to say that Benedict Farley makes pies is like saying that Wagner wrote semiquavers.
Hastings: They're good pies, are they?
Poirot: No, horrible. But there are a great many of them.

[After visiting Benedict Farley]
Hastings: How'd you get on in there?
Poirot: Not well, I'm afraid. There is something wrong in there, Hastings. Badly wrong. And I haven't the faintest idea what it is.

Poirot: There is every reason to suggest that Benedict Farley committed suicide.
Japp: Well, there would be no doubt about it all... but for one point.
Poirot: And what was that?
Japp: The letter written to you.
Poirot: I see. So where Hercule Poirot is concerned, there arises immediately the suspicion of murder?
Japp: Precisely.

Joanna Farley: [Just finished with a fencing duel] Hello, Monsieur Poirot. Fancy your chances?
Poirot: No-no-no-no, thank you very much, mademoiselle, but essentially Hercule Poirot is a man of peace.

Poirot: This is not like the grey cells, Hastings! I have given them every chance. They have been cosseted, I have slept to allow them to do their work, I have eaten fish for breakfast. Result: Nothing!

Poirot: Hastings, there are two reasons why I should never become a millionaire.
Hastings: What are they, Poirot?
Poirot: The first: That I should never make the detestable pork pies, eh? And the second: I am too understanding towards my employees.

Season 2[edit]

Peril At End House [2.1][edit]

Hastings: [Looking out the window during a flight] Looks just like a patchwork quilt, doesn't it?
Poirot: [Terrified of heights, his eyes closed] No!
Hastings: Well, it does to me. Does to everybody else.
Poirot: Not to Poirot!
Hastings: I suppose you don't think [those clouds] look like a great mass of cotton wool.
Poirot: No!
Hastings: I don't think you've got any imagination at all, Poirot.
Poirot: That is true, mon ami. But fortunately, you have enough for both of us.

Poirot: Hastings, did you notice the way Mademoiselle Nick [Buckley] flinched as a bee flew past? A bee in the bonnet, a hole in the hat?
Hastings: A bee couldn't make a hole like this.
Poirot: But a bullet could, my friend.

Commander George Challenger: It's not exactly courteous, Lazarus, to ignore us like this, what.
Frederica Rice: Jim is far too good a dancer to be a gentleman, aren't you, darling?
Jim Lazarus: Hope so, Freddie. Awful waste of expensive education otherwise.

Nick Buckley: The first accident was that picture. I should think the painter may have said that when he finished it, don't you?

Poirot: You do know who I am?
Nick: No, I don't.
Poirot: I forget. You are but a child, eh? Alors my friend here, Captain Hastings, he will tell it to you.
Hastings: Well, um... Monsieur Poirot is a detective... [Gets a look from Poirot] Um... er... a great detective.
Poirot: My friend, is that all that you can find to say? Mais dis donc, say then to Mademoiselle that I am the detective unique! Unsurpassed! The greatest that ever lived!
Hastings: There doesn't seem much point now. You've told her yourself.
Poirot: Well, yes, but it is more agreeable to preserve the modesty.

Poirot: These little curious things. I like to see them appear. They point the way.

Poirot: You know, Hastings, you have the most extraordinary effect on me.
Hastings: Really?
Poirot: Yes. You have so strongly the flair in the wrong direction that I am almost tempted to doubt [your conclusions].

Poirot: [Introduces himself] Hercule Poirot.
Charles Vyse: Bwarrot?
Poirot: Poirot. [Mutters to himself] What kind of place is this?

Poirot: [After having to see 5,000 photographs of Australia] The man who invented the camera has a lot to answer for, mon ami.

Poirot: You care for Monsieur Lazarus?
Frederica: He is rich.
Poirot: Oh-la-la, that is a terrible thing to say.
Frederica: Better to say it myself than to have you say it for me.
Poirot: You are very intelligent, madame.
Frederica: You'll be giving me a diploma next

Poirot: To all of us, mademoiselle, there comes a time when death seems preferable to life. But the grief, it passes.

Commander Challenger: I say, you any farther?
Poirot: Comment?
Challenger: You are going to get to the bottom of this, aren't you?
Poirot: I am the dog who stays on the scent, Commander, and does not leave it.

Hastings: [Chiding him for snooping through some love letters] Poirot, you really can't do that. It's not playing the game.
Poirot: We are not playing the game, Hastings. We're hunting down a murderer.

Japp: Poirot says that 93% of all police work is a waste of time.

Poirot: I do not like these urgent messages, Miss Lemon.
Lemon: I never reply to urgent messages. I know they're going to be unpleasant.

Poirot: It is satisfying, is it not, Chief Inspector, in a case when at last one knows everything?
Japp: I thought you already knew everything, Poirot.
Poirot: Well...

The Veiled Lady [2.2][edit]

Poirot: You know, Hastings, sometimes I wish that I was not of such a moral disposition.
Hastings: Really?
Poirot: Would not Hercule Poirot do better than any criminal? Hercule Poirot would use his grey cells, eh? Hercule Poirot would change his modus operandi for every crime. Scotland Yard would never be able to pin him down.

Lady Millicent Castle-Vaughan: I've heard such wonderful things about you. Perhaps you can do the impossible.
Poirot: The impossible, it pleases me always.

Mrs. Godber: Where are you from then?
Poirot: [In disguise as a locksmith] Madame Godber, tell me, what is the country that is very full of the mountains and divided into cantons?
Mrs. Godber: [Confused] You're never Chinese!
Poirot: [Laughs] No-no-no, Madame. Switzerland, the country famous for its watches, its clocks and its locks.

Poirot: Hastings, let us be calm. Let us reason. Let us... Enfant, let us employ the little grey cells.

Japp: [Observing Poirot in prison] Vicious-looking character, isn't he?
Sergeant: He hasn't been any trouble.
Japp: Nah, he's too clever for that. We've wanted to get our hands on him for months.
Sergeant: Apart from not giving a name. What is his name?
Poirot: This isn't funny, Japp.
Japp: Well, nobody knows his real name but everyone calls him... Mad Dog.

Poirot: I am glad to see you looking so rested, Hastings. And what a turn of speed you displayed last night! What agility! To jump through the window, eh? And to leave poor Poirot in the soup.

Poirot: [As he cracks open a puzzle box] Hastings, what a cracksman was lost when Poirot decided to be the world's greatest detective.

Poirot: Now I hope that you will not again wound my feelings by saying that I am unknown to the criminal classes. Pour fois, they even employ me themselves when they do not know which way to turn.

Japp: Do you ever think of going to sea, Poirot?
Poirot: No-no, my friend. This is as close as I like to get.

The Lost Mine [2.3][edit]

Poirot: [Playing Monopoly] I will build a hotel on Fenchurch Street.
Hastings: You can't build a hotel on a railway station.
Poirot: Do not be absurd, Hastings. There are plenty of hotels at railway stations.
Hastings: But it's not in the rules.
Poirot: Well, then, Hastings, the rules are wrong!

Poirot: If you put your head in the mouth of the lion, you cannot complain if one day he bites it off, eh?
Hastings: [Aside to Miss Lemon] Never made a speculative investment in his life.
Poirot: And I still have my head, Hastings.

Poirot: It is a point of principle that I always keep my [bank] balance at four hundred and forty-four pounds, four shillings and four pence.

Lord Pearson: Mr. Poirot, I can't apologize enough.
Poirot: [Thinking he's there about Poirot's missing bank balance] I am very pleased to hear you say so personally.
Lord Pearson: Yes, I realize it's a little late but you see-
Poirot: Not at all, not at all, Lord Pearson. It is better late than never, as you English say. Please do take a seat, eh? And may I offer you a drink?
Lord Pearson: A dry sherry, thank you. You see-
Poirot: Hastings, a little something for you, my friend?
Hastings: Oh, why thank you.
Lord Pearson: This is a matter of such vital concern to us all that I don't think that I or any of the bank's directors will sleep easily in our beds until it's been sorted out.
Poirot: Well, I must admit that I have not seen it in quite that light but,um... yes, I must agree with you. It is certainly most vital.
Lord Pearson: You know about the disappearance of Mr. Wu Ling then?
Poirot: Monsieur Wu Ling? [It dawns on him] Ah... Hastings, be so kind as to pour me a little brandy.

Poirot: Well, Hastings, while the Chief Inspector is frying his important fish, let us see what we can catch, eh?

Poirot: The Americans always put the month before the date, Hastings. They are very backwards people.

The Cornish Mystery [2.4][edit]

Poirot: Of the digestive organs, the liver is the king. Look after the liver and life will take care of itself.

Poirot: Ordinarily, a woman will accuse anyone in the world except her husband. She will stick to her belief in him through thick and thin.

Poirot: [About provincial gossip] In a town like this, Hastings, woe betide any husband who buys a tin of weedkiller... And then if his wife suffers from gastritis and is inclined to be imaginative, the fat is the flames, I think.

Dr. Adams: Damned nonsense! Damned nonsense, every word of it! Was I or was I not in attendance in this case?
Poirot: Indeed. All I-
Dr. Adams: Did I or did I not say the first day I went to see Mrs. Pengelley: "Gastritis"? Yes! Did I ever waver from that diagnosis? No, I did not!... I'll be blunt with you, Mr. Poirot. We in Polgarwith don't need you outsiders coming in and spreading your tittle-tattle.
Poirot: All I am trying to tell you, Monsieur le Docteur, is what Madame Pengelley thought!
Dr. Adams: If she thought that, she must have gone mad! She should have come to me. I'd have told her.
Poirot: And have all her fears ridiculed?
Dr. Adams: Ridiculed? Certainly not. I have an open mind, I hope.

Poirot: A doctor who lacks doubt is not a doctor. He's an executioner.

Poirot: So you want me to hush it up?
Jacob Radnor: Well, I admit I'm being selfish about it. I'm building up a good little business here. You don't know what these small towns are like.
Poirot: Most of us are selfish, Monsieur Radnor. Not all of us admit so freely. Yes, I will do what you ask but I tell you frankly you will not succeed in hushing it up.
Jacob: Why not?
Poirot: Vox populi, that is why. The voice of the people.

Poirot: Ah, Hastings, you admire le femme, eh? You prostrate yourself before all who are good looking.

Hastings: [When Poirot has solved the case] There's Japp. I don't know what you're going to tell him.
Poirot: Nothing at all, Hastings. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. He will learn soon enough that his open-and-shut cases has the broken hinges.

The Disappearance Of Mr. Davenheim [2.5][edit]

Poirot: Certainement it is most obscure, Chief Inspector, which gives me the great hopes of solving it.
Japp: I'm afraid I can't see it myself.
Poirot: Ah, but I do not see, mon ami. I shut my eyes and I think. One must always seek the truth from within.

Poirot: The racing of the cars, eh? Round and around in the circles. Never will I understand the passion for such a pointless pastime.
Hastings: You've got to experience it, Poirot! The sheer exhilaration of flying around on the seat of your pants!
Poirot: Yes, well, Hastings, perhaps you should try cleaning them first.

Deliveryman: Morning, sir. I have a parrot for Mr. Poy-rot.
Poirot: No, no, no. Poirot (pwa-roh). It is pronounced Poirot.
Deliveryman: Beg your pardon, guv'nor. I've got a Poirot for Mr. Poyrot.

Lemon: You do like birds, don't you, Mr. Poirot?
Poirot: Ms. Lemon, small animals have no part to play in the life of a private detective from Belgium. Except, of course, as a source of nourishment.

Poirot: In the city, they would know what we had for breakfast if it was important to the share prices.

Poirot: Please do not fraternize with that creature. I am still training him.
Hastings: It's only a parrot.
Poirot: I was talking to the parrot.

Hastings: It's the only explanation that fits.
Poirot: Like a round hole into a square peg.

Poirot: Once all the facts are placed before me, the solution becomes inevitable.

Double Sin [2.6][edit]

Hastings: I'm worried about Poirot, Ms. Lemon. He's talking about retirement.
Lemon: That's because he hasn't had an interesting case for five minutes... That, and the fact that someone said he was middle-aged.
Hastings: Well, he's always been middle-aged. Have you seen that photograph of him in his christening?.. He looked as though he was about to address a board meeting.

Poirot: The growing of the mustache is an art, Hastings. I have sympathy with all who attempt it.

Poirot: I did not achieve true facial symmetry until I grew the mustache. It caused me great unhappiness as a young man.

Lady Amanda Manderley: [Furious at being hauled away by a policeman after crashing her car into a haystack] Why can't you leave me alone! Don't you know what it's like to love a man?
Hastings: [Nonplussed] Well ah... no ah... not exactly.

Japp: [Giving a lecture] The professional private detective, ladies and gentlemen, is not the glamorous figure of fiction. He is a man who, failing in more worthy walks of life and being of meddlesome and troublemaking disposition, finally comes to rest in a dingy office over the chip shop, where he plies for hire in the sordid world of petty crime and divorce. Except, I have to say, for one. I have been fortunate in my career, in that many, in fact most of my cases have been shared with the most extraordinary of private detectives and, if I may borrow a word from his own native tongue, that doyen of the Belgian police force, Monsieur Hercule Poirot. I think I may say without fear of contradiction that Hercule Poirot has one of the most original minds of the 20th century. Intelligent, brave, sensitive, devastatingly quick, Hercule Poirot stands head and shoulders above any other detective of my considerable experience.

The Adventure of the Cheap Flat [2.7][edit]

FBI Agent Burt: Japp, I hope you're not so short of manpower you're hiring a shamus. What are they good for, chasing lost dogs? This is a matter of international security we're dealing with here.
Japp: I have no intention of hiring anyone, Burt. And if you must know, Mr. Poirot here has an outstanding reputation.
Burt: Oh! A gumshoe of distinction. And I suppose Al Capone's running for president.


Poirot: Sometimes a lost dog can be found in a place so conspicuous it is the last to be considered.

Poirot: [About the Robinsons] Did they strike you as being the gullible young couple, Hastings?
Hastings: No, they didn't.
Poirot: So we assume they possess a special quality the others were lacking, no?
Hastings: They're just an ordinary couple.
Poirot: Voila! There lies the intrigue.

Lemon: Anyone who claims to have been stag-hunting in the Bois de Boulogne, Mister Poirot, has been seriously misinformed about life on the Continent.

Season 13[edit]

Dead Man's Folly [13.3][edit]

Ariadne Oliver: [When Poirot asked to rush immediately to Devon] How are you, Poirot?
Poirot: Un peu enerve, cher madame. You telegrammed to me that you need help and for this reason I come by the express from London.
Ariadne Oliver: Well I do need help. I'm most awfully worried.

Ariadne Oliver: I'm well aware you think me irrational.
Poirot: Madame, one calls things by different names, hein? It may indeed be that you have seen something, it may indeed be that you have heard something. And it may be if I may so put it. That you do not know what it is that you know. You are aware only of the result. And that, madame, it is your intuition.

Ariadne Oliver: Any theories?
Poirot: Everybody seems to me to be completely normal.
Ariadne Oliver: Are you trying to be amusing?
Poirot: Perhaps that is not the right word. Lady Stubbs, it appears, is subnormal, Alec Legge abnormal.
Ariadne Oliver: He's all right. He's just having a nervous breakdown.
Poirot: But everyone seems in a state of agitation, which, I believe, is characteristic of the preparations for a fete in England.

Ariadne Oliver: What do you think?
Poirot: I think, madame, that I take the little walk.

Ariadne Oliver: What do you think?
Poirot: Je crois que vous avez raison. There is something that is uncomfortable.
Ariadne Oliver: And a murder hunt would be awfully convenient if you wanted to conceal a murder.
Poirot: But a murder, madame, requires a victim. So who is this victim? This is what we must discover.

The Labours of Hercules [13.4][edit]

Dr. Heinrich Lutz: May I ask you something? Why do you insist on referring to yourself in the third person? It is intensely irritating!
Poirot: Because, Dr. Lutz, it helps Poirot achieve a healthy distance from his genius.

Alice Cunningham: The Labours of Hercules. That is how you unconsciously conceive your career. You are the modern incarnation of Hercules.
Poirot: [blushes] How resourceful of me.
Alice Cunningham: Dr. Lutz should name a condition after you: the Hercules complex; the compulsion to conquer all obstacles, however forbidding. It is why you are driven to chase Marrascaud. You simply have to.

[Alice Cunningham, a.k.a. Marrascaud, is arrested along with the other accomplices and being led away]
Alice Cunningham: [to Poirot] Do you feel redeemed, monsieur? Does this atone for the death of Lucinda? Because that was a bit of a mess, wasn't it? I heard you say the words, Poirot, promising to protect her. You, the poor man's Hercules. So vain, so ineffably smug, and you failed. [Poirot starts walking away from her] Don't turn your back on me. I shall find you.
Poirot: [pauses a bit, then turns to her once more] I shall not hide.

Countess Vera Rossakoff: Hercule. Spare my daughter. [referring to Alice Cunningham] Spare her, as years ago you spared me. Please.
Poirot: No, Countess. Poirot, he is not your love. He is... Poirot.
Countess Vera Rossakoff: [sadly] Then I shall accompany my daughter. A love like ours could have burnt down a city. Such a waste.

Curtain: Poirot's Last Case [13.5][edit]

Poirot: It has been an honor, and I do not want to miss every single moment of it. But the clock, it ticks. Such is the will of God.
Toby Luttrell: Oh, we'll miss you, old chap. But you won't be forgotten. [Poirot smiles]

[Poirot coughs on his deathbed]
Hastings: Good God, Poirot! You look awful! I'll go call an ambulance!
Poirot: [weakly] No, Hastings... What good would that do? What will be, will be. [pauses] Hastings... Do you think God... will forgive me?
Hastings: Why... of course God will forgive you. You are a good man, Poirot... the best man the world has ever known.
Poirot: [sighs in relief] My heart bleeds for you, my Hastings... My poor, poor, lonely Hastings. [pauses a bit] Go now, cher ami... let me rest. [Hastings turns to leave, and Poirot responds back...] It was not suicide... it was murder. [Chopin's "Raindrop Prelude" plays in the background, and as Hastings pauses, Poirot weakly points his finger at him, urging him to go. Hastings leaves, closing the door on Poirot for the last time and starts his way downstairs. Poirot is still in bed, alone, with a sigh] Cher ami... [while Hastings heads downstairs, Poirot suffers his final bout with angina; knowing that his time has come, he grabs the gold rosary next to the box of amyl nitrite on his nightstand, then clasps the rosary in his hands and prays, using his final words] Forgive me... forgive... [scene cuts to the music room, where Hastings sees Elizabeth Cole playing before they suddenly stop, and she stands up]
Elizabeth Cole: Captain Hastings?
[he hurries back up to Poirot's room, and is surprised to find that Poirot has quietly passed away]

[four months after Poirot dies, Hastings receives a package in the post, and sits down to read the contents...]
Poirot: [voiceover, interspersed with Poirot writing the manuscript] I have instructed my lawyers to deliver this manuscript to you four months after my death, by which time you will no doubt have evolved the most preposterous theories. But really, mon ami, you should by now have been able to work out who killed Norton. As to who killed Barbara Franklin, that may come as more of a shock. When you asked if I knew who was the killer, I did not quite tell to you the truth. I knew, but had to make sure. You see, I had never met this person before, and had never seen this person in action before. It did not take long. At last, at the end of my career, I had come across the perfect criminal. Well... nearly perfect.
Stephen Norton: [flashback, to when Hastings arrived at Styles] A p-pair of nesting blackcaps down by the sycamore!
Poirot: [voiceover] No one gets the better of Hercule Poirot... not even Stephen Norton.
Hastings: Well, I'll be...
Poirot: [voiceover] Oh yes, Norton was our man. He had been a sickly boy with a domineering mother. He had had a hard time at school, and disliked blood and violence - a trait most un-English. But he had a sympathetic character, and soon discovered how easy it was to make use of it. By understanding people, he could penetrate their innermost thoughts...
Elizabeth Cole: [flashback, talking to Hastings] He's very perceptive, you know. Quiet people often are.
Poirot: [voiceover] ...and then make them do things they did not want to, compensation for a lifetime of derision. This sense of power gradually developed into a morbid taste for violence at second-hand, which soon turned into an obsession. Our gentle Norton was in fact a sadist, addicted to pain and mental torture. Remember the remarks he made, that first evening you played bridge?
Norton: [flashback] It gets my back up to see him b-bullied like that! Couldn't assert himself if he tried!
Poirot: [voiceover] Norton meant for him to hear. Sometimes successful, sometimes not, it was a drug he constantly craved. [flashback to Col. Luttrell shooting his wife with a rook rifle] No motive, no evidence, no proof - simply evil for the sake of it, a criminal who could never be convicted for his crimes. You will have realized by now that Franklin was in love with Judith, and she with him. But with Madame Franklin alive, life was very difficult for Judith, and Norton knew exactly how the wind lay. He played most cleverly on the theme of useless lives...
Judith Hastings: [flashback, at the dinner party] I don't hold life as sacred as you people do. Unfit lives, useless lives, they should be got out of the way!
Poirot: [voiceover] ...and gently ridiculed the idea that she would ever have the nerve to take decisive action.
Norton: [to Judith] Does one have the g-guts, to put it vulgarly, and you see, Miss Hastings... I don't believe you have.
Poirot: [voiceover] But for a murder addict, one iron in the fire, it is not enough. He sees opportunities for pleasure everywhere, and found one in you, mon ami. He discovered every weak spot to exacerbate your profound dislike of Major Allerton.
Norton: [flashback, to Hastings] When it comes to young w-women, Allerton has rather... a special technique in that line.
Poirot: [voiceover] Then, you saw Allerton and Judith kiss. [flashback to that night, as Norton tries to pull Hastings away from the glass house] Norton hauled you away so that you did not see what followed. You went to the glass house, and thought you heard Allerton talking to Judith. Yet you did not see her or even hear her speak - Norton made sure of that, for if you had, you'd have discovered that there has never any been any question of Judith going to London that day. It was Nurse Craven with whom he was having the affair, but you fell headlong into the trap of Norton, and made up your mind to murder. [flashback to Hastings heading into Allerton's bathroom, to find the drugs to poison the whiskey he would offer to Allerton] I heard you come up that evening, and was already exercised about your state of mind. So when I heard you in the corridor, and go into the bathroom of Allerton, I slipped out of my room.
Hastings: Slipped out of your room? But...
Poirot: [voiceover] "How?" I hear you say. You see, Hastings... I was not helpless at all.
Hastings: [shocked] What...?
Poirot: [voiceover] Why do you think I sent George away? Because I could not have fooled him into believing that I had suddenly lost the use of my limbs. I heard you in the bathroom of Allerton and promptly, in the manner you so much deplore, dropped to my knees. [flashback: Poirot leaves his room, walks to the door, kneels and peers through the keyhole] I realized what you were up to, made my preparations, and sent Curtiss to fetch you. So I gave to you the hot chocolate. [flashback, Poirot to Hastings: "It nourishes the nerves, you comprehend? Drink, drink..."] But I also, mon ami, have sleeping pills. [flashback, Poirot to Hastings: "No no no, every last drop." Hastings awakes the next morning, opens the shutters, and stares at the whiskey bottle in horror] When you awoke the next morning, you were your own self again, horrified at what you had nearly done. But it decided me, Hastings. You are not a murderer, but might have been hanged for one. I knew that I must act and could put it off no longer, but before I was able to, Barbara Franklin died... and I do not think that you have once suspected the truth. For you see, Hastings... you killed her.
Hastings: I killed her?
Poirot: [voiceover] Oui, mon ami, you did. There was, you see, yet another angle to the triangle, one that I had not fully taken into account. Did it ever enter your mind why Madame Franklin was willing to come to Styles? She enjoys the good life, yet insisted on staying in a guest house, and I have no doubt that Norton knew why: Boyd Carrington. Madame Franklin was a disappointed woman; she had expected Dr. Franklin to have a brilliant career, not shut himself away in esoteric research. And here is Boyd Carrington, rich and aristocratic, who had nearly asked to marry her when she was a girl, still paying court. So the only way was for her husband to die, and Norton had found her only too ready a tool. It was so obvious - her protestations of admiration, then her fears for her husband.
Barbara Franklin: [flashback] But it makes me nervous, the lengths he might go.
Poirot: What exactly do you mean, madame?
Barbara Franklin: Well, this horrible calabar bean thing. I'm so afraid he's going to start experimenting on himself.
Poirot: [voiceover] But when she saw Nurse Craven reading the palm of Boyd Carrington, she had a fright. She knew he would be suseptible to the charms of an attractive woman, and perhaps Nurse Craven might end up as Lady Boyd Carrington instead of her. So she decided to act quickly. She invites us all up to her room for coffee. Her cup is beside her, and that of her husband is on the other side. Then everyone goes to watch the shooting stars except you, mon ami... left with your crossword and your memories. [flashback: Hastings remembering his late wife, as the others watch the shooting stars; he quickly rotates the bookcase to hide his grief] You hide your emotion by swinging around the bookcase as if looking for a book, and so when we all return, Madame Franklin drinks the poisoned coffee meant for her husband, and he drinks the coffee meant for her. I realized what must have happened - that she had poisoned the coffee, and that you had unwittingly turned the table, but you see, Hastings, I could not prove it. [flashback to the inquest] If the death of Madame Franklin was thought to be anything but suicide, suspicion would inevitably fall on either Franklin or Judith. That is why I was so insistent that Madame Franklin had killed herself, and I knew that my statement would be accepted, because I am Hercule Poirot. You were not pleased, but mercifully, you did not suspect the true danger. Will it come into your mind when I am gone, like some dark serpent that now and then raises its head and says, "Suppose, just suppose, it was my Judith"?
[Hastings' clock chimes]
Poirot: [voiceover] And therefore, you must know the truth. There was one person most unhappy with the verdict... Norton. He was deprived, you see, of his pound of flesh. Madame Franklin had died, yes... but not how he desired. The murder he had arranged had gone awry, so what to do? He began to throw out hints of what he saw that day with you and Mademoiselle Cole. [flashback to Hastings, Norton, and Elizabeth Cole bird-watching] He had never said anything definite, so if he could convey the impression that it was Franklin and Judith he saw, not Allerton and Judith, then that could open up an interesting new angle on the suicide case, perhaps even throw doubts on the verdict. And I realized what I had planned all along had to be done at once. The moment I had dreaded - the most difficult decision of my life. [flashback, Norton coming up the stairs, knocking on the door to Poirot's room] That is why I invited Norton to my room that night... and told to him all that I knew.

[the confrontation: Norton enters Poirot's room]
Hercule Poirot: [setting a newspaper clipping out] Madame Constance Etherington, tried for the poisoning of her husband, a man who was very sadistic but also addicted to the drugs, and with whom you were on terms most intimate. [setting out another] Norah Sharples, poisoned by her niece, Freda Clay...
Stephen Norton: I hope you're not s-suggesting I was on intimate terms with her.
Poirot: [lays out a photograph of Norton with a young lady] You and Mademoiselle Clay taking a walk together. You see, I do my homework, Monsieur Norton. And... [sets out a third newspaper clipping] Matthew Litchfield. Now, you visited him, did you not, on the night he was killed by his daughter Margaret?
Norton: What is your p-point, Monsieur Poirot?
Poirot: My point is this, Monsieur Norton: That in none of these murders was there any real doubt - there was one clear suspect, no other - but you, Monsieur Norton, are the one factor malevolent common to all.
Norton: [scoffs] Oh d-dear, Monsieur Poirot, is that the b-best your "l-little gray cells" can come up with?
Poirot: Your proximity to these three murders was too much of a coincidence, and I smelt, as you say, the rat! That is why I came to Styles, to observe you function, and you have not disappointed, monsieur. No, you are a man who is very clever, but not clever enough for... [coughs] Hercule Poirot.
Norton: So... what are you going to d-do about it?
Poirot: [coldly] Execute you.
Norton: [incredulous] Execute me?
Poirot: Oui.
Norton: [smirking, as he glances at his watch] Then d-do get on with it. I p-promised myself an early night.
Poirot: Justice is no joking matter, monsieur. I do what I can to serve it, but if I fail, there is a justice that is higher, believe me!
Norton: [sneering] You p-pathetic, self-important little man. Murder me? There's a m-mortal sin if ever there was. And then what? Suicide to escape the ignominy of hanging? Ah... your G-God will give you a hell of a time. All those years of piety, up in smoke because of me. [Poirot suddenly has an angina attack, begins gasping] Ah ah ah, monsieur, you c-can't go yet. You don't think I'd let you d-die on me, d-d-deprive me of my ultimate t-triumph?
Poirot: [gasping] Please... please...!
Norton: [holds Poirot's amyl nitrite phials out of his reach] You see, if you d-don't succeed, I'm a free man. And even if you do, it will still be a v-victory of sorts, because in the eyes of the law, I would be innocent, whereas you and your reputation, your p-precious reputation... b-blown to bits.
Poirot: [gasping] Je vous en prie! [French: "I beg you!"]
Norton: [mockingly] Je vous en prie... you can see them now. "Went off his rocker in the end, you can never trust a foreigner." [pops the amyl nitrite phial and holds it under Poirot's nose; Poirot inhales it desperately] You see how good I am to you, old man? There you go. Take your time, see how it all p-pans out, shall we? [sing-song voice] Who will be there at the final curtain?
Poirot: [recovering, breathing heavily] I pity you, Norton... how very sad to find that this great and beautiful world is so foul and disappointing. [Norton shrugs] And your mother, I pity even more.
Norton: M-my m-m-mother? You pity my mother?
Poirot: To endure the agony of bringing you forth only to discover that she had nurtured in her loins such wickedness - is that not worthy of pity?
Norton: It is you who is n-not worthy! She m-m-meant the world to m-me!
Poirot: And you to her?
Norton: She l-loved me... l-loved me m-m-more than... m-more than...
Poirot: Did she ever hold you, Norton, as mothers do? Stroke your hair... kiss your cheek?
Norton: She... she... she...
Poirot: Scared you, did she not? She pushed you away! Starved you of what we all desire, because she knew everything about you!
Norton: M-my mother knew nothing!
Poirot: Oh, Monsieur Norton... mothers know. They always know.
[Norton begins sobbing uncontrollably... and then, all of a sudden, he stops, smirking slightly at Poirot]
Norton: Shots in the dark, Poirot. Shots in the dark.
Poirot: [chuckles quietly, and nods] Bon... [pause] Chocolate? [indicates the two cups of hot chocolate]
Norton: Would you mind awfully if I d-drank yours instead?
Poirot: [sighs, smiles] Not at all. [he flips his cup over and hands it to Norton] Bon. [he and Norton raise their cups in a toast, and drink]

Poirot: [voiceover, continuing to narrate his story] It was quite immaterial. I take the sleeping tablets and have acquired a certain tolerance. The dose that would send Norton to sleep would have little effect on me. [flashback: Poirot takes Norton across the hall to his bedroom] With the greatest of difficulty, I put him in my wheelchair, then, when the coast was clear, I wheeled him to his room. You will not have realized, Hastings, that recently I have taken to wearing a false moustache. Even George does not know that. [Poirot puts on his pince-nez spectacles while looking in a mirror, peels off his fake moustache, then removes his glasses, before putting on Norton's dressing gown] I put on the dressing gown of Norton, tapped on your door, then went into his bathroom. Presently, I heard you open your door. I left the bathroom and returned into the room of Norton, locking the door behind me. I put the dressing gown on Norton, and lay him on his bed. [Poirot puts Norton back into his dressing gown, then struggles to lay him onto his bed] I had a pistol, which on two occasions I had placed ostentatiously on the dressing table of Norton when he was out, so that the maid would have seen it.
[Poirot puts the gun to Norton's head; Norton awakens, smiling, as Poirot pulls the trigger, the gunshot is drowned out by the thunder... Norton is dead, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, the gun placed in his hand]
Poirot: I put the key into the pocket of his dressing gown and locked the door from the outside with a duplicate I had made, then returned to my room and began writing this. I played the game, as you English say. [flashback: after Poirot dies, Hastings opens the lockbox in his room, finding a copy of Othello] I gave to you the clues and every chance to discover the truth, pointing you towards Iago, the original Stephen Norton. My only weakness was to shoot him in the center of his forehead and not in his temple, but I could not bring myself to produce an effect so lopsided. That, mon ami, is my nature, and should have told to you the truth. [in the present, Hastings reveals to Elizabeth Cole what Poirot wrote to him, the truth behind the murder of her father by her sister Margaret] Take my advice for the last time. Tell to Mademoiselle Cole all that I have said, that you also might have done what her sister did, had there been no watchful Poirot to stop you. Take the nightmare away, and show how Norton, not her sister, was responsible for the death of her father.
[flashback: Elizabeth Cole playing Chopin's "Raindrop Prelude" on the piano at Styles, as Hastings comes downstairs from Poirot's room... on seeing him, she stops and stands]
Elizabeth Cole: Captain Hastings?
[Hastings suddenly turns, runs back up the stairs to Poirot's room, and finds him dead in his bed, clutching his rosary]
Poirot: [voiceover, as it flashes back to his writing the confession] I have no more to say. Am I justified in what I have done? I do not know. I do not believe that a man should take the law into his own hands... but by taking the life of Norton, have I not saved others? I have always been so sure, but now... [Poirot pauses in his writing, and kisses his rosary] When the moment comes, I will not try to save myself, but humbly offer my soul to God and pray for His mercy. It is for Him to decide. Ah, Hastings, my dear friend. They were good days. Yes... they have been good days. [signs the manuscript] Hercule Poirot.


External links[edit]