Inspector: 'ELLO!
Mr. Hilton: 'Ello.
Inspector: Mr. 'ilton?
Hilton: A-yes?
I: You are the sole proprietor and owner of the Whizzo Chocolate Company?
H: I am, yes.
I: Constable Clitoris and I are from the 'ygiene squad, and we'd like to have
a word with you about your box of chocolates entitled the "Whizzo Quality
Assortment".
H: Oh, yes.
I: If I may begin at the beginning. First there is the Cherry Fondue.
Now this is extremely nasty. (pause) But we can't prosecute you for that.
H: Ah, agreed.
I: Then we have number four. Number four: Crunchy Frog.
H: Yes.
I: Am I right in thinking there's a real frog in 'ere?
H: Yes, a little one.
I: What sort of frog?
H: A...a *dead* frog.
I: Is it cooked?
H: No.
I: What, a RAW frog?!?
H: Oh, we use only the finest baby frogs, dew-picked and flown from Iraq,
cleansed in the finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and sealed in
a succulent, Swiss, quintuple-smooth, treble-milk chocolate envelope, and
lovingly frosted with glucose.
I: That's as may be, but it's still a frog!
H: What else?
I: Well, don't you even take the bones out?
H: If we took the bones out, it wouldn't be crunchy, would it?
I: Constable Clitoris et one of those!! We have to protect the public!
C: Uh, would you excuse me a moment, Sir? (exits)
I: We have to protect the public! People aren't going to think there's a real
frog in chocolate! Constable Clitoris thought it was an almond whirl!
They're bound to expect some sort of mock frog!
H: (outraged) MOCK frog!?! We use NO artificial additives or preservatives of
ANY kind!
I: Nevertheless, I advise you in future to replace the words "Crunchy Frog"
with the legend, "Crunchy, Raw, Unboned Real Dead Frog" if you wish to avoid
prosecution!
H: What about our sales?
I: FUCK your sales! We've got to protect the public! Now what about this
one, number five, it was number five, wasn't it? Number five: Ram's
Bladder Cup. (beat) Now, what sort of confectionery is that?!?
H: Oh, we use only the finest juicy chunks of fresh Cornish Ram's bladder,
emptied, steamed, flavoured with sesame seeds, whipped into a fondue, and
garnished with lark's vomit.
I: LARK'S VOMIT?!?!?
H: Correct.
I: It doesn't say anything here about lark's vomit!
H: Ah, it does, at the bottom of the label, after "monosodium glutamate".
I: I hardly think that's good enough! I think it's be more appropriate if the
box bore a great red label: "WARNING: LARK'S VOMIT!!!"
H: Our sales would plummet!
I: (screaming) Well why don't you move into more conventional areas of
confectionary??!!
(the constable returns)
I: Like Praline, or, or Lime Creme, a very popular flavor, I'm lead to
understand. Or Raspberry Lite. I mean, what's this one, what's
this one? 'Ere we are: Cockroach Cluster! -- -- Anthrax Ripple!
C: MMMMWWWAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!
** For those of you watching this transcript on your terminal, the young **
** constable has just thrown up into his helmet. This is the longest **
** continuous vomit seen on Broadway since John Barrymore puked over Laertes **
** in the second act of Hamlet in 1941. **
I: (continuing) And what is this one: Spring Surprise?
H: Ah, that's one of our specialities. Covered in dark, velvety chocolate,
when you pop it into your mouth, stainless steel bolts spring out and plunge
straight through both cheeks.
I: (stunned) Well where's the pleasure in THAT?!? If people pop a nice little
chockie into their mouth, they don't expect to get their cheeks pierced!!!
In any case, it is an inadequate description of the sweetmeat. I shall have
to ask you to accompany me to the station.
H: (shrugging) It's a fair cop.
I: And DON'T talk to the audience.
(
geocities.com/area51/cavern) (
geocities.com/area51)