The arrival of the big boss (Harry Andrews) in his Rolls Royce only serves to galvanise the ambitions of the young “Brewster” (Alan Bates) who is prepared to do just about anything to get up the greasy pole. The thing is, so is just about everyone else in the place, so he is going to have to come up with something original to get noticed - or, more importantly, to get noticed by the big man’s daughter (title song singing Millicent Martin). As fate would have it, he is in a café having lunch when he is joined by “Charlie” (Denholm Elliott). He’s an unemployed gent who is being paid the comfortable sum of £250 a month by his family to keep his nose clean. “Charlie” is soon onto his aspirational new chum and together they come up with a wheeze, but as “Brewster” starts to succeed he realises that his erstwhile mentor is becoming something of a liability and so with his negligé-clad landlady keen on taking their relationship that extra step, perhaps, he could find a rather permanent solution. This is quite a secret to keep, though, so can he attain his ultimate goal without getting rumbled? This is really quite a fun indictment on all things venal that prevailed amongst the dog-eat-dog world of an unscrupulous younger generation trying to oust the establishment figures who play buy shrewd, but more gentlemanly rules as Britain rebuilt after the war. Bates and Elliott work well together here, the latter getting his teeth onto a role for a change rather than just supporting from the fringes and the former proving engagingly convincing with a glint in his eye and a self-advancement streak a mile wide. I did like the denouement, even if I probably shouldn’t have, and though it does mix a few more recognisable sub-plots that can clutter it up a bit, it’s a classy example of worms that turn.
