“Full-metal-mackintosh,” oh my God, get out of this car.

All right, if you want to walk to Bazentin-Le-Petit . . .

(I thought of you particularly during the scene where Bourne and his makeshift interpreter's skills have to extricate a corporal from the predictable consequences of gallantly and un-bilingually trying to compliment a billet as "cushy avec mademoiselle":

'Wish to God I knew a bit o' French,' said the corporal earnestly.

'I wish to God you wouldn't mix the little you do know with Hindustani,' said Bourne.)