SCENE -- We see a busy London street. Cabbies and Ford Fiestas are all clamouring - albeit at a very slow pace - for the eventual goal of not being on the London street any more.

A man with great big floppy hair is running down the pavement. He's wearing an Oxford shirt - naturally - and carrying what looks like a very boring, square briefcase. He is comically repressed; this is evident in his movement, in his voice, in his facial expression. Cricket, Pimm's and a good game of rugger are what this boy is about. And the odd dirty liaison with a back-street prostitute.


FLOPPY HAIR MAN: Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckety fuck fuck fuck.

The audience laughs uproariously. FLOPPY HAIR MAN looks a little startled at this.

FLOPPY HAIR MAN (trying his luck): Cunt. Cunt cunt cuntitty cunt cunt cunt cunt.

The audience is in stitches. One suspects they also find hysteria in Victorian music hall theatre and half hour comedy programmes about men in dresses.

FLOPPY HAIR MAN: Well. Well, I ... I never thought ... I never would have guessed, actually ... that ... you see ... well, that that would be funny. [He laughs, nervously.]

The audience coos. He's so lovely! FLOPPY HAIR MAN runs on, repeating other naughty words ad nauseum for the audience's half-witted delight. Eventually, he comes to his destitation: the Titus N. Fanwanker Advertising Agency. At the boardroom, everybody is sat in wait for him.

FLOPPY HAIR MAN: I'm sorry I'm late. The bus took a long time coming, and then the roads were a huge mess.
COMICALLY GAY MAN, REPRESSED TO THE POINT OF SECRET SUICIDAL DEPRESSION: Oh, I say.
OVERWEIGHT WOMAN WITH BIG BREASTS: Oh, shush, Norman. I'm really interested in what Graham has to say! Go on Graham. Show us what you've produced!
COMICALLY GAY MAN: Awhawfawfawhawfaw!
FLOPPY HAIR MAN: Well, as you know ... I've been ... well, I've been working on the ... well, you see now ... the account for Faneef ... who make ... well, they make ... you see ... they make scented deoderants for ... well, for ... for women. [He laughs, nervously.]
RUGGED NORTHERN MAN WITH EAST GERMAN MOUSTACHE: I see, lad. Let's make this quick, because I want to get down the pub and have a pint with me mates, eh. You were working on a new product for them. Where were you working, out of interest?
FLOPPY HAIR MAN: I was working at their arts centre, actually ... Very nice ... Yes ... Yes ... Great people there ... Faneef Arts ... I could just eat them up.

COMICALLY GAY MAN almost has an aneurysm.

RUGGED NORTHERN MAN: That's great, lad. So what have you done? Go on, show us, eh.
FLOPPY HAIR MAN: Well, I've created ... I've, well, yes, um, actually, I've made ... a new brand, actually. It's very clever, I think ... er ... yes ... we call it Hi, Men!
D-LIST CHARACTER ACTOR FROM AN ABYSMAL SITCOM: Oh, that's fantastic. Really it is. Hi, Men! [He does a little wave.] Oh, that's super! Super!
OVERWEIGHT WOMAN: So how many territories have you broken?
FLOPPY HAIR MAN: I have personally broken Hi, Men! in over twenty territories, all with a resounding success.

COMICALLY GAY MAN makes a terribly funny expression, forms a pointy shape with his nose, laughs, falls to the floor, splits his head open in three places and dies. We see he is, in fact, wearing a gingham dress.

OVERWEIGHT WOMAN: How queer!
RUGGED NORTHERN MAN: Aye. Well now that's sorted, I'm going down t'pub with me mates. We're going t'get naked in front of an audience of two hundred girls, an' afterwards, I'm going to have me Tetleys, eh.
D-LIST CHARACTER: Oh, that's super! Super!

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE wanders in with the tea.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: What ho!
FLOPPY HAIR MAN: What a splendid idea.