What About Dick? Page #6

falling from the gland that

softly quells the glistening

buns and rivulets and

streams of Bonnie Scotland.

- Is this something about a holiday?

- You've not won a

holiday, you stupid gits,

we're tickety boom, may I

ask who owns this piano?

- Oh, that's mine.

- Oh, is that right?

It's your piano?

- Been in the family for

years, matter of fact,

belongs to my wife.

- Your wife's as mad as a hatter, coo coo,

bonkers.

She hasn't got a piano.

This piano was stolen

from Leonard Bastard.

- No, no, Inspector,

you are mistaken, that's

his Helena's piano, I give it her.

- Leonard Bastard, what

are you doing here,

just in time to confirm

a most unlikely story?

- I come here to thank

you for getting me the

job with Mr. Hudson and

to give you the piano

you love so much.

- How on earth did you get here?

- I walked.

- All the way from Houndsditch?

- Yes.

- But that's a hundred miles.

- Yes.

- Would you like a glass of water?

- Seeing you is refreshment enough for me.

- Oh golly gosh, blush, blush, blush.

- So you see Inspector,

it is Helena's piano.

- How very touching, it

reminds me of a wee ballad

from my childhood,

called The Lonely Trout.

From the heelan hills

and rills o bonnie Scotland

Fra the bogs and fogs

and soggy lochs and braes

From the moontin tops where

lonely jocks drink whiskey

To the dingy pond wherein

the lone trout plays.

There was once a laddie

wandered wi his lassie

When she told him that

her love for him was dead.

As she left this lonely boy

Whod now lost his only joy

The trout raised his head

and this is what he said

O rum ti tumti

TTckle yer monkey

Tickle di didle doo

Rumpy pumpy

Humpty dumpty

Tickle yer tivey too

Oh hankie pankie

Winkie wankie

Diddle de didle doo

Rinky dinky

Tiddley winky

Nicky nacky noo

the noo the noo the noo the noo the noo

O Winkie wankie

Nickety nackety

Sings the lonely trout

Tiggly wiggly

Higgly piggly

What is life about?

Mickety pickety

Wickety lickety

She was just a slut

Find yourself another lass

A nicer piece of butt.

Oh packety wackety

Nickety nackety

Sings the lonely trout

Splickety wickety

Pickety nickety

What is life about?

Shackety mackety

Thwackety crackety

She was just a slut

Find yourself another lass

A nicer piece of butt.

Splickety wickety

Pickety nickety

What is life about

Shackety mackety

Thwackety crackety

What is life about?

Shackety mackety

Thwackety crackety

She was just a slut

Find yourself another lass

A nicer piece of butt.

Oh packety wackety

Nickety nackety

Sings the lonely trout

Splickety wickety

Pickety nickety

What is life about?

Shackety mackety

Thwackety crackety

S he was just a slut

Find yourself another lass

A nicer piece of butt.

Oh, packety wackety

Nickety nackety

Sings the lonely trout

- I think that's quite

enough of that, Inspector.

I said come on, off, off, come on, you.

Off, off, off, take your b*obs with you.

And what about Dick?

- I completely forgot about wee Dickie.

- My nephew is missing.

- No he's not.

- Oh you found Dick.

Oh thank heaven.

- Oh, shut your dribble,

you big.

You're a disgrace to the

We Free course frolicking

about in pines with naked

laddies beneath.

We have indeed found him

and he told me a joke.

We found him in the woods.

- In the woods, is he dead?

- Not quite but severely blootered.

He was attacked by some hungry vampire who

tried to eat him all up

and do him like a dinner.

- Great Scott!

- Thank you.

- But who would want to harm Dick?

- Somebody who wanted to shut his face.

- But Dick knows nothing about everything.

- Do you know we have a

wee saying in Scotland,

we men in the nuts.

- One can only imagine what that means.

- Sometimes the things

we don't know are the

unknown knowns that we

don't know we think we know

but others think we do.

- Well, that's easy for

you to say, Inspector.

But it is idle to

speculate, since Dick can

no longer speak.

- I have an Indian

gentleman who specializes

recovering memories by the name of

Deepak Rushdie Obi Ben Kingsley.

Perhaps wee Dickie

might remember something

when he comes out of his coma.

- But when will he wake up?

- Who knows, a few weeks,

a few months, a few

years per chance.

- Years, but whatever shall we do?

- We must all go to Italy at once.

To Italy

To Italy

Oh yes, let's go to Italy

Where painters paint so prettily

On ceilings there

Where everyone talks wittily

And no one argues bitterly

And we'll free to really

have some feelings there

Let's leave the soggy English rain

And go to Italy by train

To visit Florence,

Venice and then Rome again

We'll wine and dine 'til we are sick

And we won't have to think of Dick

At least until we

finally come home again

Italia

La, la la, la la, la

la, la la, la la, la

Italia

Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

No, I cannot stand Italians

They wear the gold medallions

And act like bloody stallions

All the waiters there

Telly, telly, dirty telly

It all gets on my nelly

As far as I'm concerned

They're pasterbators there

Italia

La, la la, la la, la

la, la la, la la, la

Italia

Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

Italian men are gorgeous

If you don't include the Borgias

For they make me slightly nauseous

When I read of them

Romeo's and Cinderella's

Say buon giorno and ciao bella

And they have umbrella's

Should I feel the need of them

Italia

La, la la, la la, la

la, la la, la la, la

Italia

Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

Rome was not built in a day

Though actually it looks that way

The Roman Empire, of course

Was the power there

There's a geezer came from Pisa

By the name of Julius Caesar

He was a little bent

But then, so is the tower there

Italia

La, la la, la la, la

la, la la, la la, la

Italia

Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

Italia

La, la la, la la, la

la, la la, la la, la

Italia

Ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

ya, ya ya, ya ya, ya

- I was on the move again.

This time to Italy where English people go

to have emotions.

Consequently, Emma remained behind.

Meanwhile, the party arrived in Florence.

The traveling party arrived in Florence.

- Sorry.

- What joy to be in

Italy with these friendly

men and their encouragingly lax morals.

- Aunt Maggie, why is

that statue not wearing

any underpants?

- I suppose because it's

so terribly hot dear.

- Amd what is that little thing?

- Well, it's an umbrella symbol.

Oh, here we are, the Pensione Berlusconi.

- Buon giorno, Signore.

- Bunga bunga, Signor pederasty Inglesi.

- Oh, Signor Berlusconi,

how nice to see you.

- Ah, Signora De Clepa Inglesi.

I have reserved for you and your niece,

a room with no view.

- Thank you so much, dear.

Helena is allergic to views.

- Particularly right wing views.

- Well, welcome to

Pensione where emotionally

repressed English people

can learn to enjoy

themselves.

How to chew the pizza, how

to nibble on the pasta,

how to swallow salami--

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