Is time is pass
The JUDITH: (is come in from nursery) Woe is! The might army of childrens is sore bent and depleted by the PLAGUETM. They is hover betwixt life and deeth and is do the puke and rave in fever
(The VOICE of The Little Dimple-Cheeked Weetabixia, from off:)
Moloch! Moloch!
Nightmare of Moloch!
Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland
Mayakovsky’s Moscow’s burning
And the clouds have trousers.
Turtles exploding over Istanbul
Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust -
The KINGY: (is pat the daughter absently) Never mind dear I is buy you new ones if they is broke. Nice shiny new Japanese ones that can tell time in three languages and wake you up with tea in bed, hmm?
The JUDITH: Oh Papa! Cease and desist this foolish dream of a tower of WEETABIX to rival the gods
The KING: Never! Already foundations is laid and I is call in WEETABIX from far and wide
The JUDITH: WEETABIX, Mm! But the curse?
KING (is skeptic): Stuff and bollocks! Why a spot of black death is all part of the rough and tumble of childhood. Where is dissension and strife the Jim the Baptist is prophesy? I do not see him! Why we is one big happy family isn't it
The RAIMONDO; (all ominous like) Who have smashed my LEGO farm?
The KING (is saying) M'dear fellow, I tripped over it
The RAIMONDO Then henceforth we is at war!
(Is draw sword and retire to desert to raise mighty army
The JUDITH Oh Papa apologize I implore thee
The KING Shall not I is kingy look you
The JUDITH Then I enter nunnery!
It sing:
I'm through with men
Is gruff and hairy beasts
No more jigajig with them
And late-night WEETABIX feasts
I is must become a nunny
And have my fanny condemned and boarded up isn't it
(is leave with sadly
The KING {to the Priesty
At least we's still has each other m'dear fellow
The PRIESTY (all crafty like) Yes... you is can trust me (Him snigger. To only self): Much good come of this. I scheme to make Kingy disown childrens and adopt me as heir, then I get kingdom - and LEGO! (To Kingy, all winsome-like) Come, Royal Daddy, forget inconstant daughter, let us play pat-a-cake pat-a-cake and plait each other's beards
The KING: Immenso!
(Exit arm in arm giggling and frolicking
The SARAH: (to only self, all thoughtful like
Fair is foul and foul is fair
There is a flood taken in the tide of men
Which, widening and widening in the gimbelling waves
The centre cannot hold. Now, gods, stand up for harlots
Let us gird our loins and bring out the Branston
Men lying abed in England shall hold their manhoods
And Crispin Glover never shall be forgot.
Shantih, shantih, Shankly.
[It is walk off pensively stage right, banging into wall
The SARAH: Arse on it, where is door?