Not the Usual Sort of Request

(With a tip of the hat to Monty Python's Pepperpots.) 

In a town in northern England, Ethel and Agatha, two middle-aged housewives in frumpy clothes, are talking as they wait for a bus. During their conversation, they are joined by Doris, another housewife in frumpy clothes. 

ETHEL: Hello, Agatha.

AGATHA: Hello, Ethel.

ETHEL: The bus is late this morning.

AGATHA: It's always late.

ETHEL: How have you been keeping?

AGATHA: You mean since we spoke to each other yesterday?

ETHEL: Oh, has it been that long?

AGATHA: Yes, it has.

ETHEL: Well, then, how have you been keeping since yesterday?

AGATHA: Oh, I can't complain. Actually, I could complain, but I won't. How have you been keeping?

ETHEL: Well, if you want to know, I had a slight problem with Archie last night.

AGATHA: Did you?

ETHEL: Yes, I did.

AGATHA: What kind of problem?

(Ethel leans close to Agatha.)

ETHEL: You're not going to believe this, Agatha, but I promise you that it's the absolute truth. Last night, Archie asked me to wear his old raincoat, with nothing underneath, and then he wanted me to crawl on my hands and knees in a circle, and sing an aria from Rigoletto.

AGATHA: He didn't!

ETHEL: He did!

AGATHA: His old raincoat, with nothing underneath?

ETHEL: Yes!

AGATHA: He wanted you to crawl on your hands and knees, while singing an aria?

ETHEL: Yes!

AGATHA: Why on earth would he ask you to do that?

ETHEL: I don't know. Archie has always been such a quiet person. Well-mannered and no trouble at all. We've been married for twenty-seven years now, and he's never made any unreasonable requests. Never. Not until last night.

AGATHA: What did you do?

ETHEL: I refused!

AGATHA: If my Harold ever made that sort of request, I don't know what I'd do. I think I'd probably faint.

ETHEL: I nearly did faint. I mean, it's not the usual sort of request, is it?

AGATHA: No, it certainly isn't.

ETHEL: I like to think of myself as being a worldly person, in my own small way, but how could I respond to such a request?

AGATHA: How could anyone respond to such a request?

ETHEL: I can tell you, Agatha, it took my breath away. I mean, I'm not unduly shy. I'm a married woman. I think I know what's what. I pride myself on being open-minded. I've been there and back again, several times. I can see the big picture, and I'm willing to do what must be done in most instances, but I'm not a bloody fool!

AGATHA: No, of course not.

ETHEL: I won't allow myself to be taken in that easily!

AGATHA: No, not that easily.

ETHEL: I have my standards, the same as anyone else.

AGATHA: That's right.

ETHEL: I believe that a person should have standards, and those standards should be faithfully maintained. Otherwise, where would we be?

AGATHA: Where, indeed?

ETHEL: I have my standards, and I'm not about to lower them. Not for anyone, not even for my husband! Not now, not ever!

AGATHA: Yes, that's just as it should be.

(Ethel takes a handkerchief from her handbag, and dabs her eyes.)

ETHEL: I'm sorry. I don't like to go to pieces, but talking about it makes me feel quite upset.

AGATHA: I understand. You have every right to feel that way.

(Ethel puts her handkerchief back into her handbag.)

ETHEL: Of course, if one chose to look at it from the perspective of logical positivism, Hans Reichenbach and all that, one might be able to see it much differently.

AGATHA: Yes, one might. Although, I must say, I've always found Reichenbach to be a bit dry.

ETHEL: Well, I suppose that's true, to a certain extent. Reichenbach is a bit dry.

AGATHA: Dry, and exceedingly superficial.

ETHEL: Oh, I don't know about Reichenbach being superficial. His work is a bit dry, I'll grant you that, particularly when he goes on and on about non-Euclidean geometries, but I wouldn't describe him as superficial.

AGATHA: Reichenbach is exceedingly superficial, and I should know! I've read every bloody word that he ever wrote!

ETHEL: Every word?

AGATHA: Every bloody word!

ETHEL: I never would have guessed.

AGATHA: Well, it helps to pass the time.

ETHEL: Yes, that's what I find. Reading books on philosophy does help to pass the time. Crossword puzzles are good, too.

AGATHA: Actually, I was only reading Reichenbach because his books were available at the library. Arthur Schopenhauer is more to my taste, but the library didn't have any of his books.

ETHEL: None at all?

AGATHA: None. The lady at the library said that all of his books had been stolen.

ETHEL: Stolen?

AGATHA: Yes, she said that it happens all the time. Apparently, people are always stealing Schopenhauer's books. It just goes to show.

ETHEL: It certainly does.

AGATHA: It seems that even thieves, as they go about their iniquitous business, are compelled to seek intellectual guidance in their struggle to grasp the heavy questions that define the primary context of human experience.

ETHEL: Well, it's hardly surprising. I mean, being a thief probably is not as enjoyable as it appears to be.

AGATHA: No, I don't suppose it is.

ETHEL: Oh look, there's Doris.

(Ethel waves to Doris, who walks over and joins them.)

AGATHA: Hello, Doris.

DORIS: Hello.

ETHEL: We've just been talking about philosophy.

AGATHA: Doris, which do you prefer, the books of Hans Reichenbach or the books of Arthur Schopenhauer?

DORIS: Oh, I don't like Reichenbach, and I don't like Schopenhauer, either. I prefer Barbara Cartland.

AGATHA: She's not a philosopher.

DORIS: No, but her books are lovely. I like a good romance. A good romance is better than any book of philosophy.

ETHEL: Well, perhaps that's true.

AGATHA: Barbara Cartland is all right, I suppose, if you like that kind of thing, but I still prefer Schopenhauer.

DORIS: Did Schopenhauer ever write a romance?

AGATHA: No, I don't think so.

DORIS: Well, there you are.

AGATHA: He did write The World as Will and Representation, though. Does that count for anything?

DORIS: No, not in my view. Not unless it's a romance.

ETHEL: I wonder if Hans Reichenbach ever wrote a romance?

DORIS: Well, I must be off. I have a lot of work to do at home. We're having a visit from the Queen this evening.

AGATHA: A visit from the Queen?

ETHEL: Oh, that's nice.

DORIS: Yes, she usually comes round our way at least once a month. Sometimes she brings Philip along, too. She likes to let her hair down and have a good laugh. She says it keeps her in touch with the everyday life of the common people. She gets tired of being cooped up in that bloody palace all the time.

ETHEL: Fancy that, the Queen letting her hair down!

AGATHA: I think the Queen is a lovely person. For a monarch, I mean.

ETHEL: Yes, she's a lovely person.

DORIS: Well, cheerio!

AGATHA: Say hello to Her Majesty for us!

(Doris walks away.)

ETHEL: Where is the bus? It should have been here a long time ago.

AGATHA: Yes, it's quite late.

ETHEL: They're probably on strike again.

AGATHA: They're always on strike!

ETHEL: Yes, it does seem that way.

AGATHA: That's what comes of reading Karl Marx.

ETHEL: Karl Marx?

AGATHA: Yes, the drivers spend a great deal of their time reading Karl Marx.

ETHEL: How do you know that?

AGATHA: One of my neighbors told me. Mrs. Flottington, who lives down the road. She has a nephew who drives a bus, and according to her, he said that all the drivers spend a great deal of their time reading Karl Marx. If you ask me, they should be reading Arthur Schopenhauer, not Karl Marx. Arthur Schopenhauer is much better than Karl Marx. For that matter, Hans Reichenbach is better than Karl Marx. Even Barbara Cartland is better than Karl Marx.

ETHEL: What have you got against Karl Marx?

AGATHA: That beard! I don't like men with beards.

ETHEL: My uncle has a beard.

AGATHA: Is he a communist?

ETHEL: No, he's a Methodist.

AGATHA: If he has a beard, he might be only posing as a Methodist for public purposes. In private, when no one is looking, he might be a communist.

ETHEL: What about Father Christmas? He has a beard.

AGATHA: Well, that's different.

ETHEL: Why is it different?

AGATHA: Because it is.

ETHEL: There's still no sign of the bus. We could be waiting until the end of time.

AGATHA: I can't wait until the end of time! I have laundry to do!

ETHEL: It's just an expression, Agatha. I didn't mean that we would actually be waiting until the end of time.

AGATHA: Oh well, that's all right. As long as it's only an expression.

ETHEL: I think we've waited long enough. The bus is never going to be here. Shall we start walking?

AGATHA: Where are we going?

ETHEL: To the promised land.

AGATHA: Isn't that near Scunthorpe?

ETHEL: No, I think it's nearer to Kirmington.

AGATHA: Well, as long as I'm home in time to do my laundry.

(Ethel and Agatha begin to walk.)