What About Dick? Page #4

- Exactly.

- But why do you work all the time?

- Because.

I'm a simple girl from Houndsditch

Ass readings what I do

Bend over, drop your trousers Len

I'll read your future too

No!

It's part of your body

Speaks volumes like a book

Bend over, my sweet Lennie dear

And let me take a look

Can't have it

Asstrology

Asstrology

As sound as the hills like Geology

All that is written

and will come to pass

Is buried down deep in your ass

Ugh

Each little wrinkle

and crinkle and dimple

Will foretell the future

it's really that simple

Look on the night side

and not on the black side

Your face is your fortune

but so is your backside

Come on, Lennie

Asstrology

Asstrology

It all sounds like

hogwash and doorah to me

I prefer Psychology

Shut up and let me read your ass

Slight little problem

that's found on me ninth

Is written down neatly upon my behind

The past so completely and utterly gone

Is plainly still writ upon my sit upon

Asstrology

Asstrology

They say that whatever will be will be

But whatever happens

When shove comes to push

A future is read in

your tush, tush, tush

- It's very late.

Where can that neurotic girl be?

- Don't worry, Aunt Maggie.

Here's Helena now, on a cart.

- Hey, Emma, look what I've got.

- Not more umbrellas.

- She's got a piano.

- Where on earth did you get it?

- Dick found it and gave it to me.

- Out of breath, out of breath.

Excuse me.

- Yes?

- That's my piano.

- No it's not.

- Oh Helena don't tell me--

- It's mine, Emma.

- Give it back to me or

else she'll call the police.

- You tell her, Lennie.

- What exactly do you want?

- We want his piano miss hoity toity.

- Stand aside you ruffians.

- Why, Mr. Hudson--

- May I be of some assistance.

- This lady is Nickin' my piano.

- How dare you make scandalous

aspersions about a young

neurotic upper class woman.

I shall thrash you, Sir with my umbrella.

- Oh, I will take that, thank you.

- Please, Mr. Hudson, do not thrash him.

He is Working Class.

- No, no. He f***ing ain't.

He ain't even working.

I mean, Leonard's

unemployed, everyone will be

forced to fetch the police,

so give me that piano back.

Stealing a piano in broad daylight.

Oh, why, I never heard the like of it,

oh so help me, I've never

did, in all of my born

days, oh blimey, Lord's

have mercy, cross me

heart and hope to die.

- What is she, some kind

of Dickens Festival?

- She's on crack cocaine.

Get this woman out of here.

- Eww, hello cuddle butt.

- Do you know her?

- Uh, no, absolutely not,

never seen her before

in my life.

- You know this man, Enid?

- Yeah, he's a regular,

Saturdays at eight.

- What is she talking about?

- Woman's mad.

- Come on, Enid, let's fetch the coppers.

- You haven't heard the last of this.

See you Saturday as usual, dimple butt.

- Can I ask you a favor, Mr. Hudson?

That man Leonard that was just here,

would you go after him?

- Yeah, go after him and then

offer to beat his lights out?

- No, offer him a job.

- Oh, whatever for?

- The piano was his, Helena took it.

- Oh dear, that umbrella

thing is getting much worse.

- Yes and soon the police

will be here and there'll

be an awful scene.

- Where is this piano?

- Over there on the cart.

- Hey, you two idiots.

- Yes, Gov?

- What's your name?

- Ken Russell.

- Don't I know you?

- No idea, Gov.

- His memories gone, Sir,

he can't remember anything

since the Shagistan massacre.

- I see, right.

Well, I want you to

take this piano over to

Trevor Howard's End.

That is my country cottage at Norfolk.

The piano will be safe there.

- Alright, Gov.

Come on, warhorse.

- And now, Emma, I will

make my excuses and I

shall pursue Leonard

Bastard to offer him a job

in the Accounting Department.

- I don't know how to

thank you, Mr. Hudson.

- You don't need to thank

me unless, perhaps, do

have a hairbrush?

- Yes, why?

- Oh, nothing.

She detains me with her eyes.

I have a strong compulsion towards her.

It's as if--

- It's as if I could read his thoughts.

- It's as if she could read my thoughts.

- That's because we are speaking out loud.

- Yes, I suppose so.

So here we are still--

- Exactly--

- It's not as if--

- no, hardly at all--

- And just to think if something doesn't--

- No, of course it doesn't--

- What's the harm in that?

- Simply thinking.

- And fantasizing.

- Perfectly normal.

- You know what I'd like to do?

- I have and idea.

- I'd like to be a Butler.

- A Butler?

- In a great house.

- How odd, I too dream of serving.

- Of housekeeping?

- To serve alongside a

man who likes order and

discipline.

- Wearing a simple black

dress of silk maybe.

- Yes.

- With tightly laced

black corset underneath?

- Yes.

- Perhaps regulation black stockings.

- Oh, certainly.

- Forgive me, Miss

Schlegel, I must just go and

rearrange my furniture.

- Oh heavens.

- These are new trousers,

I'm just breaking them

in for a friend.

- So I see.

- Excuse me.

- Not so fast upper class, middling class,

poor n high class.

Allow me to introduce myself.

I'm a private dick by the

name of Inspector McGuffin

in New Scotland Yard,

missing furniture division,

including instruments, mouth

organs, banjos and other

such items lost from

time to time and reported

by the public to the police.

- Well, how do you do?

- I'll ask the f***ing questions.

- Well, Inspector, I'm a

very busy man could you

possibly tell me what all this is about?

- Certainly.

A young man from The

Workers, Leonard the Bastard

was given a piano from

the Reverend Whoopsie.

- I'm sorry, what?

- A piano.

A young laddie for The Working

Class apparently playing

piano in the Royal

McMurkett Class Institute.

Young laddie with a great

bit hairstyle took a piano

country...

to the Kensington Gardens,

where a man identified later

to be Hudson Rubbery Company

to, wish to take

away the piano in secret

and the same piano is far

away in a far distant place,

arousing the suspicions

of the Metropolitan Opera

and the police, namely Inspector McGuffin,

who's demanding the same of

Mr. Hudson return

information regarding

of the same piano.

- Could you just run that by me again?

- Mr. Hudson--

- Yes I got that bit.

- Do you or do you know

these have taken possession

of the same young man, Lenny

Bastard's piano

the same said piano for

the country to all uses and

practices for your own self abuse and your

, please?

- I can honestly assure

you Inspector, I have no

idea what you're talking about.

Oh yeah,

what I be talking about?

- Ah, are you offering

us a holiday in Scotland?

- I'm not offering you a

holiday in Scotland, you

daft tit.

Do you no understand any English?

Where's the f***ing piano?

- What f***ing piano?

- Don't with me, Sonny.

- I think he means piano.

- Oh thanks for the

translatoration you upper

tightly, upper classy

emotionally retarded twat.

- Well, do you honestly

see any piano, Inspector?

- Don't be so f***ing clever

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