by Jo Brand
‘Did you really think that?’ said Ted.
‘No,’ said Martha, ‘but I refuse to accept I am quite such a moral bankrupt.’
‘I’m not sure I can forgive you,’ said Sarah.
‘Oh dear,’ said Martha.
‘But I’ll have a good go,’ said Sarah.
‘Fucking great,’ said Dick Knob, ‘so everyone’s happy except me, then?’
They all nodded solemnly and the audience clapped.
Dick Knob strolled dejectedly past the audience and up the stairs.
‘Hang on,’ said Martha. ‘Flower, didn’t we say the only way to absolutely guarantee that Billy is sorted out is to threaten to shoot his testicles off if he ever touches Sarah again?’
Billy instinctively covered his bollocks, having found it difficult to decide whether Martha was joking or not.
‘Yes, it’s a joke,’ she said.
Dick Knob appeared again, at the back of the room.
‘There’s fucking loads of police out there,’ he screamed.
‘Well, I suggest,’ said Flower, picking up the microphone out of its stand, ‘that you, the audience, file out in an orderly fashion with your hands up and we’ll all come out at the end and explain ourselves. But hang on one little minute, I haven’t finished my set yet. Down you all sit.’
‘Flower,’ said Charlie, exasperated.
‘Well, fuck it,’ said Flower, ‘I haven’t shot anyone. At least let me do a couple of jokes. And they are the last ones I’ll ever do.’
A beleaguered police Inspector with a loudhailer and two vanloads of policepersons who could shoot in a straight line shook his head and turned in a puzzled fashion to his colleague.
‘They’re all killing themselves laughing down there now, ‘he said.
‘As long as they’re not killing each other with that gun,’ replied his colleague.
‘You should be a fucking comedian,’ replied the Inspector.