We ranged about Surfers freely for less than two hours. It might have been a lot longer before they caught up with us had Duffy, in an open-air bar, not decided to launch himself into the midst of a bevy of young lasses and demonstrate to them how a bikini top might equally be worn as a hat. The thus bare-breasted young lady did nothing about her sudden indecent exposure except to biff Duffy in the chin. The rest of the girls put their fingrnails to the test. There was no option left neither to myself nor Ernie Weedman but to rush to our fallen comrade’s rescue. Thus completely immerced in frenzied female flesh, we failed to notice the trio of military policemen who just happened to be passing at the time.

The Western was virtually dead as a genre, certainly on television, but every so often someone would trot one out and see if their were any fans left. But rarely did they get the full treatment the way The Professionals did, great yarn, great cast, plenty of action and big budget spectacle on the giant screen. They were never so kind to the breed in their heyday, but this was a superior movie in any genre. Railroad mogul Ralph Bellamy hires four men (Burt Lancaster, Lee Marvin, Robert Ryan, Woody Strode) to bring back his kidnapped wife (Claudia Cardinale) from bandit leader Jack Palance. It all leads to some pretty tough action. Especially when the four, having abducted the abducted girl, discover they have been had. Turns out she volunteered to be snatched by Palance, who is her lover.
    The friendly banter between Lancaster and Palance as they shoot it out in the final battle is great fun. Robert Ryan collected a pay check for nothing, but it was good to see the giant Woody Strode get a decent role.
    The best line is the last, when the four have handed her over, collected their money and then let her escape back to Palance again.
 “You bastard!” Bellamy fumes.
 “Yes sir,” Marvin replies. “In my case, an accident of birth, but you’re a self-made man.”