School of Comedy

Pongo

What ho! Now look here. The name's Pongo. Pongo Trellis-Marjoribanks-Lord - and I've no idea what this blasted web nonsense is all about because it's 1941 and it hasn't been invented yet. I suppose I should have my valet tephephelone some web Johnny and have him dash orf a couple of lines about me, my wife Margot, my chum Freddie and Margot's chum Lulu, but there's a filthy nonsense of a war on so you just can’t get the staff.

You DO know there's a war on, what? You see, we're all frightfully busy sticking it to Jerry and frankly, we could all be dead of a doodlebug pretty jolly soon so I say carpe whatnot and dance with whomever you like wherever you like and to hell with it if they're wearing leather trousers and smuggling a spam truncheon. Do you follow? No? Alright, as you were.

Margot

I don't quite know how to say this but I suppose I shall just have to come out and say it and blast Pongo, blast Hitler and blast the consequences. Here goes. I shall just go ahead and say it. My name is Margot and I am a lesbon. There, I've said it. I love a lady. Not just any lady. I love Lulu. Not just any Lulu. Naked Lulu. Naked Lulu with no clothes on.

Oh, I know it sounds mad. And it is mad. I'm mad, Pongo's mad, this whole rotten war is mad. Mad and shocking. But I shan't let it wear me down. Lulu says I must be terribly brave and not mind the bombs and the suet and the disapproving looks. Soon the war will end and we'll be gay and free and eat salmon sandwiches with the crusts off, wear croquet shoes indoors and drink our tea from a hairy cup.