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- Hello, I wish to register a complaint... Hello? Miss?
- What do you mean, miss?
- Oh, I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint.
- Sorry, we're closing for lunch.
- Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about a parrot
what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
- Oh yes, the Norwegian Blue. What's wrong with it?
- I'll tell you what's wrong with it. It's dead, that's what's
wrong with it.
- No no, it's resting... look!
- Look my lad, I know a dead parrot when I see one and I'm
looking at one right now.
- No, no sir, it's not dead. It's resting.
- Resting!?!
- Yeah, remarkable bird the Norwegian Blue, beautiful plumage,
innit?
- The plumage don't enter into it - it's stone dead.
- No, no - it's just resting.
- Alright then, if it's resting I'll wake it up: "Hello
Polly! I've got a nice cuttlefish for you when you wake up, Polly
Parrot!"
- There! It moved!
- No he didn't. That was you pushing the cage.
- I did not.
- Yes you did. Hello Polly, Polly! Polly Parrot, wake up.
Polly! Now that's what I call a dead parrot.
- No, no it's stunned.
- Look my lad, I've had just about enough of this. That parrot
is definitely deceased. And when I bought it not half an hour
ago, you assured me that its lack of movement was due to it being
tired shagged out after a long squawk.
- It's probably pining for the fjords.
- Pining for the fjords, what kind of talk is that? Look,
why did it fall flat on its back the moment I got it home?
- The Norwegian Blue prefers kipping on its back. Beautiful
bird, lovely plumage.
- Look, I took the liberty of examining the parrot, and I
discovered that the only reason that it had been sitting on its
perch in the first place was that it had been nailed there.
- Well of course it was nailed there. Otherwise it would muscle
up to those bars and voom.
- Look matey, this parrot wouldn't go voom if I put four thousand
volts through it. It's bleeding demised.
- It's not. It's pining.
- It's not pining, it's passed on. This parrot is no more.
It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker.
This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests
in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing
up the daisies. It's run down the curtain and joined the choir
invisible. This is an ex-parrot.
- Well, I'd better replace it then.
- If you want to get anything done in this country you've
got to complain till you're blue in the mouth.
- Sorry guv, we're right out a parrots.
- I see. I see. I get the picture.
- I've got a slug.
- Does it talk?
- Not really, no.
- Well, it's scarcely a replacement, then is it?
- Listen, I'll tell you what, tell you what, if you go to
my brother's pet shop in Bolton he'll replace your parrot for
you.
- Bolton eh?
- Yeah.
- Alright.
- Er, excuse me. This is Bolton, is it?
- No, no it's, er, Ipswich.
- That's Inter-City Rail for you (leaves)
- I wish to make a complaint.
- I don't have to do this, you know.
- I beg your pardon?
- I'm a qualified brain surgeon. I only do this because I
like being my own boss.
- Er, excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it?
- Oh yeah, it's not easy to pad these out in thirty minutes.
- Well I wish to make a complaint. I got on to the Bolton
train and found myself deposited here in Ipswich.
- No, this is Bolton.
- If this is Bolton, I shall return to the pet shop.
- I understand this IS Bolton.
- Yes.
- Well, you told me it was Ipswich.
- It was a pun.
- A pun?
- No, no, not a pun, no. What's the other thing which reads
the same backwards as forwards?
- A palindrome?
- Yes, yes.
- It's not a palindrome. The palindrome of Bolton would be
Notlob. It don't work.
- Look, what do you want?
- No, I'm sorry, I'm not prepared to pursue my line of enquiry
any further as I think this is getting too silly.
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- Hello to you, sir, welcome to Conservative Central Office.
- I say! I wanna tell you a Tory... sorry, I mean register
a complaint.
- Sorry, sir, we're permanently out to lunch.
- Now never mind that, I wish to complain about this duck
what I voted for.
- Oh, I see. Our Yorkshire Blue, Hagueous Vagueous. What's
wrong with it?
- I'll tell you what is wrong with it! It's blooming dead,
that's what's wrong with it!
- What? Nonsense! Not yet! It's resting! Look!
- I'm sorry, I know a dead duck when I see one, and I'm looking
at one right now.
- No, don't you worry, it isn't dead, it's prone... just resting.
- Sorry? Prone? Resting?
- Yeah, quite remarkable, the Yorkshire Blue... beautiful
plumage, innit?
- Plumage don't enter into it... it's totally bald!
- No, no, it's got a skinhead crop! And it's resting!
- Alright, if it's resting I'll wake it up: "Billy! Hello
Billy! I've got fourteen pints for you when you wake up, Billy!"
- Ah, there! It moved!
- No it did not! That was you pushing its bandwagon!
- No I did not!
- Yes, you did. Hello Billy! Oh Billy! Wake up, Billy Duck!
Now that is what I call one dead duck.
- No no, it's stunned. It's probably pining for the eighties,
sir!
- Pining for the eighties? What kind of talk is that? I've
had just about enough of this ffion nonsense! That duck is definitely
deceased. Look, why did it fall flat on its backside the moment
it got home?
- The Yorkshire Blue loves slipping on banana skins. Beautiful
plumage!
- I took the liberty of examining the silly coot, and I discovered
that the only reason that it had been standing in the first place
was that it had been handbagged there.
- Well of course it had. Or otherwise it would have slipped
off to some bar, and 'Voom!'
- Look, this bird-brained twit wouldn't go 'Voom!' if I put
four thousand votes to it! It's bleeding his-tory!
- Oh no it's not, sir, it's pining!
- Tosh! It is not pining, it has passed its sell-by date...
this amateur joker is no more. It has lost. It has ceased to
be a credible political force. It has expired and gone to meet
its Careers Adviser. This is a late patriot. It is totally stiff.
Bereft of hope. R.I.P. - it rests in puce. If you hadn't nailed
it to the bar, it would be pushing up the optics. It has run
down the country and joined the black economy. It has absolutely
no proper purpose, it is no use, it is without any nous! A goon!
A ruin! A wooden puppet! A stupid dummy! It is a total wrong'un!
This is an ex-next Prime Minister!
- Oh well, I had better replace it... er, sorry, we're right
out of duckies... but I've got a portillo. It's all that we've
got left now.
- Ooh, I say! Wow! A portillo! Gosh, that's nice, eh? Cootchy-coo!
Who's a prettyboy, then? Blow me down with a feather, squire!
The right wing is rather well-developed, is it not?
- Well, it's been flapping around in a circle since it fell
off its perch at the last General Election.
- I suppose it talks, does it not?
- Well, only if it thinks it will help out with the pink vote...
it's had a cockatoo in there, I'm told. (But not the little member
for Richmond).
- It seems all so full of itself, would you not say, posing
and pouting at the mirror all the time?
- Ah well, you know, sir, maybe it's just had another queer
tern! Ha ha ha!
- Oh, poop! That is an awfully poor pun!
- I thought poop was a palindrome...
- Appalling dome? Oh, don't you dare mention that oily little
power-mad horror-of-horrors Peter Mandelson, my good man!
- ...No no no! Sorry, not a palindrome. Oh, ho hum... what's
that other thing with the same letters spun around, sir?
- An anagram.
- Aha! Quite! That's the thingummy! No, I'm sorry, I am not
prepared to pursue this anagram any more... it is now getting
extremely silly!
- Yes, so it is!
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