Avenger

A sketch from A Bit of Fry & Laurie

Fiona grins nervously at the camera.

Fiona Hello. Pause. Doesn't seem to be anybody here. I expect one of them'll turn up in a minute. Pause. But for the time being, it rather looks as if I'm sort of ... on my own ... Stephen's voice booms out from nowhere, lots of echo.

Stephen That's right, my dear. You are quite, quite alone.

Fiona Who's that? Fiona looks round the studio. The camera zooms into odd things like lamps and coffee cups. Lily Marlene starts playing, cracklingly.

Stephen The fog has settled on the moor, and may not lift for days.

Fiona Show yourself. Who are you?

Stephen Come, my dear, don't say that you've forgotten?

Fiona Forgotten who? What ...?

Stephen Welwyn Garden City. 1974. Debenhams car park.

Fiona Max?

Stephen I waited, Fiona. I waited a long, long time. But you never came. Why didn't you come, Fiona? I waited ...

Fiona The traffic ... I had a flat headache ... my wife turned up ... the fire burnt down ... oh what's the use ... oh Max, Max, Max ... Fiona collapses on to the sofa, sobbing. When she looks up, Stephen is standing over her.

Stephen I have waited a long time for this moment.

Fiona Max, I'm sorry.

Stephen Sorry? Sorry? You think you can leave me with three bags of quite heavy shopping, run off to Paris with your lover-dancing- boy-laughter, and then say "sorry"?

Fiona Max, you don't understand ... I was young, I was in love ...

Hugh comes on.

Hugh Hello. Fiona? M'colleague. What's going on.

Fiona and Stephen assume airs of complete innocence.

Stephen Nothing.

Fiona Nothing at all.

Stephen We were just chatting.

Hugh Fiona. You look fabulous like that. Alive. Feline. Arousing.

Stephen No ... (pointing to Fiona) ... THAT'S Fiona.

Hugh Oh.

Vox Pop

Hugh Big ones, small ones, thin ones, fat ones, stiff ones, floppy ones, ones that hang to the left, ones that hang to the right. I'm talking of course, about penises. What are they for? They expel waste fluids from the male bladder, they serve as a conduit in the process of insemination, but what else? You can't drive them. You can't live in them. You can't wear them. You can't borrow money from them at any rates, never mind favourable ones, so all in all, what good are they? I wrote to the Duchess of Kent to find out. I haven't received an answer yet.

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