The Entertainer Page #4

to our coloured friend on the stairs.

- He's a student.

- No, he's a ballet dancer.

Is he? He's a big fellow.

- Playing the Winter Gardens.

- Ballet dancer?

He says if you drop your hat

outside there,

kick it all the way to the promenade

before you pick it up.

- There's a telegram come for you.

- Don't you think she's looking peaky?

- There's a telegram come for you!

- It's probably one of my creditors.

Good girl.

You remembered Phoebe's Dubonnet.

She likes that. Don't you? She thinks

she's being awfully U when she drinks it.

Well, I like it. It seems to soothe me.

- Was it all right at the theatre?

- No, it was not all right at the theatre.

Have your Dubonnet, dear.

Jean, that's yours.

- Billy, wake up!

- I am awake.

- Well, stop yelling, then. Here's a drink.

- I don't want it.

Yes, you do. Don't argue.

I'm having a celebration.

- What have you got to celebrate about?

- Oh, dear.

Not a thing you can call your own,

and as sure as God made little apples

I'll lay a sovereign to a penny piece

you'll be bankrupt before Christmas.

And you'll be lucky not to end up in jail.

- Get him to go to bed.

- Go to bed. You're overtired.

I'm not overtired. I don't relish

the idea of a jailbird in the family.

Shut up, Dad.

You've had too much to drink.

I used to have half a bottle

of brandy for breakfast.

And a pound of steak

and a couple of chorus girls.

I leave chorus girls to you. Do you know

what James Agate said about me?

That you and Pat Campbell were

his favourite female impersonators.

You know bloody well what he said.

We all know what he said

and every word of it was true.

Your daughter went to that

Trafalgar Square circus last Sunday.

Did you really? Are you one of those

who don't like the prime minister?

I've grown fond of him.

Does he bring you out in spots?

- I wish I knew what was going to happen.

- I feel like that about that dog downstairs.

- What is going to happen?

- Three things do that to me.

- Nuns, clergymen and dogs.

- I don't want to always have to work.

You want a bit of life before it's all over.

Takes the gilt off if you've got to go on

and on until they carry you out in a box.

- Did I tell you my nun story?

- It's all right for him.

He still has his women.

While it lasts, anyway.

But I don't want to end up

being lain out by some stranger

in some rotten little street in Gateshead or

West Hartlepool or another of those holes.

Phoebe, don't upset yourself.

Let's enjoy ourselves.

Do you think I don't want to enjoy myself?

(wails)

I wish women wouldn't cry.

I wish they wouldn't.

- Say something to her, Jean.

- Why don't you?

I wish I could. I only wish I could.

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