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Where's my cricket bat?
Henry
: Jesus, Annie, you're beginning to appal me. There's something scary about
stupidity made coherent. I can deal with idiots, and I can deal with sensible
argument but I don't know how to deal with you. Where's my cricket bat?
Annie
: Your cricket bat?
Henry
: Yes. It's a new approach [he heads
to the hall]
Annie
: Are you trying to be funny?
Henry
: No, I'm serious.
[He goes out while she watches
in wary disbelief. He returns with an old cricket bat]
Annie
: You better not be.
Henry
: Right, you silly cow --
Annie
: Don't you bloody dare.
Henry
: Shut up and listen. This thing here, which looks like a wooden club,
is actually several pieces of particular wood cunningly put together in
a certain way so that the whole thing is sprung, like a dance floor. It's
for hitting cricket balls with. If you get it right, the cricket ball will
travel two hundred yards in four seconds, and all you've done is give it
a knock like knocking the top off a bottle of stout, and it makes a noise
like a trout taking a fly…[he clucks
his tongue to make the noise].
What we're
trying to do is write cricket bats, so that when we throw up an idea and
give it a little knock, it might…travel
…[He clucks his tongue again and picks up the script.]
Now,
what we've got here is a lump of wood of roughly the same shape trying
to be a cricket bat, and if you hit a ball with it, the ball will travel
about ten feet and you'll drop the bat and dance about shouting 'Ouch!'
with your hands stuck into your armpits. [indicating
the cricket bat]
This
isn't better because there's a consipracy by the MCC to keep cudgels out
of Lords. It's better because it's better. You don't believe me, so I suggest
you go out to bat with this and see how you get on.
'You're
a strange boy, Billy, how old are you?'
'Twenty, but I've lived more than you'll ever live'.
Ooh, ouch!
[He drops the script and
hops about with his hands in his armpits, going 'Ouch!' Annie watches him
expressionlessly until he desists]
Annie
: I hate you.
Henry
: I love you. I'm your pal. I'm your best mate. I look after you.
You're the only chap
… [my edit: back to Annie's dodgy script]
It's like being run over very slowly by a travelling freak show of favourite
simpletons. |
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