Himself the pop star is as dear to me as he is to you, the jury's still out on those Pals of his however. I am grieved at all that is happening in this house. Scarcely anyone in it is honest, and all of them are music tarts. It is hard to throw yourselves at the feet of those who betray you. There was a time (before that dreadful Craven Moorhead became a part of all our lives) we all thought Drew Peacock a dishonest man but he is now the established press officer for his nibbs and his tarts did I say tarts I meant Pals. That way lies madness you mark my words. I had to tell him Swiss nazi gold was not a radio station... Anyway as long as Moorhead gets the money Moorhead thinks everything is as it should be, and she who does not, that's me by the way, must sit in the economy section. I was fuming! First of all I wash... I use cutlery... and I can carry large weights on my head. I omit a thousand other advantages. Take my advice and listen to what I say...was that the bell? That'll be Himself ringing for his pint of gin and tonic. All right! All right! I it's coming ...ungrateful little bastard! Anyway I must be getting on see you next time cheerio.-EDNA BUCKET (house keeper)
Hello everyone Craven Moorhead here. I'm their manager. Well now I should tell you Emma Roids has departed for pastures anew. If Edna Bucket hadn't given her a damn good tongue-lashing, she never would have shut up! Screaming and wailing and throwing herself on the floor like a child! Going on and on about this or that! Her Mandolin! Management betrayal! The fires of Hell! Women to me are often ridiculous creatures. I mean, they're ruled by the one organ that's practically guaranteed to get you in trouble. The heart..... Followed closely by the mouth. Still, they're good for something. I mean, they have their uses. Don't they? There are reasonable arguments for keeping them around. Certain incentives. Amenities they provide. I intend to "have" a woman shortly. I intend to produce a child. One that will carry my name. Moorhead! I know she won't enjoy it. I'm so... you know.... But she swore an oath. And I'm making an effort to make things as pleasant as possible. Schulace gave me this cologne which is supposed to drive women wild. And I've been working out. Lost some weight. A little bit. Here. Right here. Can you tell? - Craven Moorhead.
She stared at me for a long time. I knew the whole thing was on the line. This was it. "Whatever" she said. She sighed. She didn't speak for a long time. Finally, she said, "Since my husband's stupidity, my mother's selfishness, and my fishmongers greed have conspired to force me into something I never would have done under normal circumstances ... I have no choice but to accept it as the will of Tarvu." Then she swore her undying love and sealed it with a ... well ... something special. As they were pulling us apart, she slipped me an Exchange and Mart. "I'll get Kingston" she said..."Corduroy Kingston I gasped...Oh Christ!"