Moth­er. [turn­ing off ra­dio] lib­er­al rub­bish! Klaus!

Klaus. Yeah?

M. Whad­daya want with yer jugged fish?

K. ’Al­ibut.

M. The jugged fish is ’al­ibut!

K. Well, what fish ’ave you got that isn’t jugged?

M. Rab­bit.

K. What, rab­bit fish?

M. Uuh, yes . . . it’s got fins . . .

K. Is it dead?

M. Well, it was cough­in’ up blood last night.

K. All right, I’ll have the dead un­jugged rab­bit fish.

Voice‐​over. One dead un­jugged rab­bit fish lat­er:

K. [putting down his knife and fork] Well, that was re­al­ly ’or­ri­ble.

M. Aaw, you’re al­ways com­plain­in’!

K. Wha’s for af­ters?

M. Rat cake, rat sor­bet, rat pud­ding, or straw­ber­ry tart.

K. [eyes light­ing up] Straw­ber­ry tart?

M. Well, it’s got some rat in it.

K. ’Ow much?

M. Three. A lot, re­al­ly.

K. Well, I’ll have a slice with­out so much rat in it.

Voice‐​over. One slice of straw­ber­ry tart with­out so much rat in it lat­er:

K. [putting down fork and knife] Ap­palling.

M. Naw, naw, naw!

Son. [com­ing in the door] ’El­lo Mum. ’El­lo Dad.

K. ’El­lo son.

S. There’s a dead bish­op on the land­ing, dad!

K. Re­al­ly?

M. Where’s it from?

S. Wad­dya mean?

M. What’s its dio­cese?

S. Well, it looked a bit Bath and Wells‐​ish to me . . .

K. [get­ting up and go­ing out the door] I’ll go and have a look.

M. I don’t know . . . kids bringin’ ’em in here . . .

S. It’s not me!

M. I’ve got three of ’em down by the bin, and the dust­men won’t touch ’em!

K. [com­ing back in] Leices­ter.

M. ’Ow d’you know?

K. Tat­tooed on the back o’ the neck. I’ll call the po­lice.

M. Shouldn’t you call the church?

S. Call the church po­lice!

K. All right. [shout­ing] The Church Po­lice!

[sirens rac­ing up, fol­lowed by a tremen­dous crash]
[the church po­lice burst in the door]

De­tec­tive. What’s all this then, Amen!

M. Are you the church po­lice?

All the po­lice of­fi­cers. [in uni­son] Ho, Yes!

M. There’s an­oth­er dead bish­op on the land­ing, vic­ar sargeant!

De­tec­tive. Uh, De­tec­tive Par­son, madam. I see . . . suf­frican, or dio­cisian?

M. ’Ow should I know?

D. It’s tatooed on the back o’ their neck. [spy­ing the tart] ’Ere, is that rat tart?

M. Yes.

D. Dis­gust­ing! Right! Men, the chase is on! Now we should all kneel!

[they all kneel]

All. O Lord, we be­seech thee, tell us ’oo croaked Lester!


Voice of the Lord. The one in the braces, he done it!

Klaus. It’s a fair cop, but so­ci­ety’s to blame.

De­tec­tive. Agreed. We’ll be charg­ing them too.

K. I’d like you to take the three bodd­labin in­to con­sid­er­a­tion.

D. Right. I’ll now ask you all to con­clude this har­rest with a hymn.

All. All things bright and beau­ti­ful,
All crea­tures great and small,
All things wise and won­der­ful,
The church has nigged them all.