One of the best this week - "The Poetry Society" - FABULOUS
The Lad at his pompous best until Sid and Bill deflate him., AND both beat him at the pretention game without even trying, and I make no excuse for quoting large chunks of it. G & S at their script writing best and Tony, Sid and Bill reading it so well. Gregory was Warren Mitchell and Fenella Fielding as Greta - who else in that part!!
Gregory:
Yes, well we'll commence with a work by myself...I have entitled it: 'Tin Can'.
Hancock:
Tin Can? (sotto) Tin Can; yes, let's see, I think I'll lean up against the fireplace with one arm up, suggesting the lid's been opened.
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Hancock:
Oh, very well...make it quick and keep it clean.
Bill:
Mm hmm. Thank you. Eh hem.
'Incandescence', by William.
Hick, hack, hock,
Rinky tinky on purple grass,
Shafts of light, hob-nail boots,
Tramping down the bamboo,
That grows upwards, downwards, sideways,
Into the Concrete Cosmos,
Life is mauve,
I am orange,
Hick, hack, hock.
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Gregory:
I am talking to the Master.
Hancock:
Don't make any hasty decisions, listen to mine. Listen,
'The Ashtray', by Anthony.
Steel rods of reason through my head.
Salmon jumping, where jump I?
Camels on fire, and spotted clouds.
Striped horses prance the meadow wild,
And rush on to drink at life's fountains deep.
Life is Cream. I am puce.
Ching. Chang. Cholla.
Gregory:
How dare you revile the group with such shallow, trivial nonsense.
Hancock:
It was as good as his, what's the matter with you? Its too deep for you, that's the trouble.
Gregory:
Well, what does it mean?
Hancock:
What does it mean.? Well, I should have thought that was obvious. It's a plea for the...well, no it's more of an outcry against the...er,...it's an outcry against the licensing laws.
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Hancock:
Titles and privileges. So that's what you're up to Mr. James you've been sitting there reading the rule-book. Show me that. 'The leader of the group receives from levies from other members a remuneration of no less than five-hundred pounds per year, so that he may be exempted from the need to work, and may spend all his time on contemplation and intellectual pursuits.' Five-hundred a year, is this right, Gregory?
Gregory:
Oh, yes. And his lieutenant gets three-hundred and fifty.
Hancock:
Who's his lieutenant?
Sid:
It says here...'the leader has the privilege of choosing his own lieutenant'.
Hancock:
At three-fifty a year?
Sid:
Yes.
Hancock:
And that's what you're after. Well you've had that, because it also says here that...'the leader can only choose for his lieutenant, a man who has proved his intellectual qualifications by having produced an original, cultural piece of work'.
Sid:
Exactly. I shall now read an abstract poem, which I just happen to have written. 'Limbo.' by Sidney.
Hancock:
Oh this is getting farcical. I should have this job.
Gregory:
Quiet please, everyone. Sidney's going to read to us.
Sid:
'Limbo.' by Sidney.
Mauve world, green me,
Black him, purple her,
Yellow us, pink you...
Greta:
Beautiful. Beautiful.
Sid:
Lead pipes, fortune made,
Six-to-four, come in second,
Green country, blue Haringey,
And White City.
Hick. Hike. Hock.
Gregory:
I can't take any more. All this sensuous excitement in one evening. What an experience to hear such beauty, such translucent symbolism. How you must know life, Sidney.
Sid:
Oo. I do, boy.
Greta:
How you must have suffered to produce work like that.
Sid:
Suffered? It's been murder, sometimes.
Outside 23?