Mrs Conclusion: Hello, Mrs Premise.
Mrs Premise: Hello, Mrs Conclusion.
Mrs Conclusion: Busy day?
Mrs Premise: Busy! I've just spent four hours burying the cat.
Mrs Conclusion: Four hours to bury a cat?
Mrs Premise: Yes! It wouldn't keep still, wriggling about howling its
head off.
Mrs Conclusion: Oh - it wasn't dead then?
Mrs Premise: Well, no, no, but it's not at all a well cat so as we were
going away for a formight's holiday, I thought I'd better bury it just
to be on the safe side.
Mrs Conclusion: Quite fight. You don't want to come hack from Sortonto
to a dead cat. It'd be so anticlimactic. Yes, kill it now, that's what I
say.
Mrs Premise: Yes.
Mrs Conclusion: We're going to have our budgie put down.
Mrs Premise: Really? Is it very old?
Mrs Conclusion: No. We just don't like it. We're going to take it to the
vet tomorrow.
Mrs Premise: Tell me, how do they put budgies down then?
Mrs Conclusion: Well it's funny you should ask that, but I've just been
reading a great big book about how to put your budgie down, and
apparently you can either hit them with the book, or, you can shoot them
just there, just above the beak.
Mrs Premise: Just there!
Mrs Conclusion: Yes.
Mrs Premise: Well well well. 'Course, Mrs Essence flushed hers down the
1oo.
Mrs Conclusion: Ooh! No! You shouldn't do that - no that's dangerous.
Yes, they breed in the sewers, and eventually you get evil-smelling
flocks of huge soiled budgies flying out of people's lavatories
infringing their personal freedom. (life-size at-out of woman at end of
last animation goes by) Good morning Mrs Cut-out.
Mrs Premise: It's a funny thing freedom. I mean how can any of us be
really free when we still have personal possessions.
Mrs Conclusion: You can't. You can't ' I mean, how can I go off and join
Frelimo when I've got nine more instalments to pay on the fridge.
Mrs Premise: No, you can't. You can't. Well this is the whole crux of
Jean-Paul Sartre's 'Roads to Freedom'.
Mrs Conclusion: No, it bloody isn't. The nub of that is, his characters
stand for all of us in their desire to avoid action. Mind you, the man
at the off-licence says it's an everyday story of French country folk.
Mrs Premise: What does he know?
Mrs Conclusion: Nothing.
Mrs Premise: Sixty new pence for a bottle of Maltese Claret. Well I
personally think Jean-Paul's masterwork is an allegory of man's search
for commitment.
Mrs Conclusion: No it isn't.
Mrs Premise: Yes it is.
Mrs Conclusion: Isn't.
Mrs Premise: 'Tis.
Mrs Conclusion: No it isn't.
Mrs Premise: All right. We can soon settle this. We'll ask him.
Mrs Conclusion: Do you know him?
Mrs Premise: Yes, we met on holiday last year.
Mrs Conclusion: In Ibiza?
Mrs Premise: Yes. He was staying there with his wife and Mr and Mr
Genet. Oh, I did get on well with Madam S. We were like that.
Mrs Conclusion: What was Jean-Paul like?
Mrs Premise: Well, you know, a bit moody. Yes, he didn't join in the fun
much. Just sat there thinking. Still, Mr Rotter caught him a few times
with the whoopee cushion. (she demonstrates) Le Capitalisme et La
Bourgeoisie ils sont la m~me chose... Oooh we did laugh.
Mrs Conclusion: Well, we'll give a tinkle then.
Mrs Premise: Yes, all right. She said they were in the book. (shouts)
Where's the Paris telephone directory?
Mrs Inference: It's on the drier.
Mrs Premise: No, no, that's Budapest. Oh here we are Sartre ... Saltre.
Mrs Varley: It's 621036.
Mrs Premise: Oh, thank you, Mrs Vafley. (dials) Hallo. Paris 621036
please and make it snappy, buster... (as they wait they sing 'The Girl
from Ipanema) Hallo? Hello Mrs Sartre. It's Beulagh Premise here. Oh,
pardon, c'est Beulagh Premise ici, oui, oui, dons Ibeezer. Oui, we
met... nous nous recontrons au Hotel Miramar. Oui, la . barbeque,
c'est vrai. Madame S. - est-ce que Jean est chez vous? Oh merde. When
will he be free? Oh pardon. Quand sera-t-il libre? Oooooh. Ha ha ha ha
(to Mrs Conclusion) She says he's spent the last sixty years trying to
work that one out. (to Madame Satrre) Trs amusant, Madam S. Oui
absolument... bientt. (puts the phone down) Well he's out
distributing pamphlets to the masses but he'll be in at six.
Mrs Conclusion: Oh well, I'll ring BEA then.
(Cut to them sitting on a raft in mid-ocean.)
Mrs Premise: Oh look, Paris!
(Cut to shot of a notice board on the seashore, it reads 'North Malden
Welcomes Careful Coastal Craft'.)
Mrs Conclusion: That's not Paris. Jean-Paul wouldn't live here. It's a
right old dump.
('Alan Whicker', complete with microphone, walks in front of sign.)
Whicker: But this is where they were wrong. For this was no old dump,
but a town with a future, an urban EXdorado where the businessmen of
today can enjoy the facilities of tomorrow in the comfort of yesterday.
Provided by a go-getting, go-ahead council who know just how loud money
can talk. (a phone off-screen stuns to ring) Interest rates are so
low...
