Lady Matilda

Dear Lady Matilda walks onto the stage. Its a midsummers day. She enters the living room with her betattered housecoat which is gelled to her flaccid, dying skin with sweat. She reeks of cigarette smoke. Her dear friend Henrik enters through the front door. He is a young man who looks like his mother was a mountain goat.

Lady Matilda : Its a mighty fine day isnt it?

Henrik : I must concur, did I leave my hat here last night during our fine relating?

Lady Matilda : Yes good sir! Its sitting on the table mounted on that huge dildo

HENRIK POURS HIMSELF A GLASS OF WINE AND SLUMPS ON AN OLD LEATHER ARMCHAIR

Henrik : My woman! Your hips remind me of the joints of a low quality deckchair! How are your shares?

Lady Matilda : My shares are bloody well fine my dear, fancy a fuck?

Henrik : My motor isnt running today im afraid. Henrik sets down his glass on the ring stained coffee table I'm dying Matilda.

Lady Matilda : Good lord, is it serious?

Henrik : Of course its bloody well serious woman!