Wednesday, 5 March 2014


Act II Scene VI 

You’ve made some pretty outrageous, bloody- 
minded remarks in your life, Fay, but that one’s 
really got to take the cake. If you think I’d touch 
that greasy little meatball in a dinner suit, you not 
only need your head read, you need a complete 
overhaul from top to bottom! Not only am I not 
attracted to him in any way, but I find his very 
existence a blot on the dignity of the entire human 
race. Vain, pompous, arrogant, with the dress 
sense of a hedge-hog and the subtlety of a chain- 
saw, he has got to be the most personally 
disgusting, violently backward, pettily boorish and 
thoroughly repulsive excuse for a man I have 
ever met. I wouldn’t touch him if you threatened 
me with twelve hours of Richard Carlton Tapes! I 
wouldn’t date him if he and Paul Lyneman were 
the last two men in the world! Morty’s the kind of 
human leggo-set that makes a bag of wet cement 
look exciting! He’s revolting, Fay! Absolutely, 
unashamedly, irredeemably, revolting: and the 
very idea of him and me together makes me 
physically sick! How could you? The man’s a 
human fur-ball!

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