The Last Word

Man: (whistles a bit, then) Hello. I would like to buy a fish
licence, please.
Postal Clerk: A what?
Man: A licence for my pet fish, Eric.
Postal Clerk: How did you know my name was Eric?
Man: No, no, no! My fish's name is Eric. Eric fish. He's an
halibut.
Postal Clerk: What?
Man: He is an halibut.
Postal Clerk: You've got a pet halibut?
Man: Yes, I chose him out of thousands. I didn't like the
others, they were all too flat.
Postal Clerk: You must be a loony.
Man: I am not a loony. Why should I be tarred with the epithet
'loony' merely because I have a pet halibut? I've heard tell
that Sir Gerald Nabarro has a pet prawn called Simon - you
wouldn't call him a loony! Furthermore Dawn Pathorpe, the lady
showjumper, had a clam called Stafford, after the late
chancellor. Alan Bullock has two pikes, both called Chris, and
Marcel Proust had an 'addock! So if you're calling the author
of 'A la recherche de temps perdu' a loony, I shall have to ask
you to step outside!
Postal Clerk: All right, all right, all right. A licence?
Man: Yes!
Postal Clerk: For a fish.
Man: Yes!
Postal Clerk: You *are* a loony.
Man: Look, it's a bleeding pet, isn't it? I've got a licence
for me pet dog Eric, I've got a licence for me pet cat Eric.
Postal Clerk: You don't need a licence for your cat.
Man: I bleedin' well do and I've got one! Can't be caught out
there!
Postal Clerk: There is no such thing as a bloody Cat Licence.
Man: Yes there is.
Postal Clerk: No there isn't.
Man: Is!
Postal Clerk: Isn't!
Man: I've bleedin' got one, look! What's that then?
Postal Clerk: This is a dog licence with the word 'dog' crossed
out and 'cat' written in in crayon.
Man: Man didn't have the right form.
Postal Clerk: What man?
Man: The man from the cat detector van.
Postal Clerk: The loony detector van, you mean.
Man: Look, it's people like you what cause unrest.
Postal Clerk: What cat detector van?
Man: The cat detector van from the Ministry of Housinge.
Postal Clerk: Housinge?
Man: It was spelt like that on the van. I'm very observant.
I never seen so many bleedin' aerials. The man said their
equipment could pinpoint a purr at four hundred yards, and Eric
being such a happy cat was a piece of cake.
Postal Clerk: How much did you pay for this?
Man: Sixty quid and eight for the fruit-bat.
Postal Clerk: What fruit-bat?
Man: Eric the fruit-bat.
Postal Clerk: Are all your pets called Eric?
Man: There's nothing so odd about that. Kemel Attaturk2 had an
entire menagerie called Abdul.
Postal Clerk: No he didn't.
Man: Did!
Postal Clerk: Didn't!
Man: Did, did, did, did, did and did!
Postal Clerk: Oh all right.
Man: Spoken like a gentleman, sir. Now, are you going to give
me a fish licence?
Postal Clerk: I promise you that there is no such thing. You
don't need one.
Man: In that case give me a bee licence.
Postal Clerk: A licence for your pet bee.
Man: Correct.
Postal Clerk: Called Eric? Eric the bee?
Man: No.
Postal Clerk: No?
Man: No, Eric the half bee. He had an accident.
Postal Clerk: You're off your chump.
Man: Look, if you intend by that utilization of an obscure
colloquialism to imply that my sanity is not up to scratch, or
even to deny the semi-existence of my little chum Eric the half
bee, I shall have to ask you to listen to this. Take it away,
Eric the orchestra-leader.
Eric Idle: A one, two, a one two three four!

Man (sings): Half a bee, philosophically,
Must, ipso facto, half not be.
But half the bee has got to be
Vis a vis, its entity. D'you see?

But can a bee be said to be
Or not to be an entire bee
When half the bee is not a bee
Due to some ancient injury?

Chorus: La dee dee, one two three,
Eric the half a bee.
A B C D E F G,
Eric the half a bee.

Man:Is this wretched demi-bee,
Half-asleep upon my knee,
Some freak from a menagerie?
No! It's Eric the half a bee!

Chorus: Fiddle de dum, Fiddle de dee,
Eric the half a bee.
Ho ho ho, tee hee hee,
Eric the half a bee.

Man: I love this hive, implore ye-ee,
Bisected accidentally,
One summer afternoon by me,
I love him carnally.

Chorus: He loves him carnally,
Semi-carnally.

Man: The end.
Postal Clerk:´Cyril Connolly?
Man: No, semi-carnally!
Postal Clerk: Oh.
Chorus: Cyril Connolly. (Whistle end of tune.)