Small Plays About My Day

… tiny true dramas in a Charing Cross Road bookshop


Posted on | October 4, 2009 | No Comments

Customer in kagoul and glasses: And another thing. Hilter? Woofter. Göring? Woofter. Himmler? Woofter. Decadent, the lot of them. All that stuff about the Fatherland? Woofters.
Neil: Goebbels was a red-blooded male, wasn’t he?
Customer in kagoul and glasses: Hoooo, no. Woofter.
Neil: So how were they planning to populate the master race?
Customer in kagoul and glasses: And the internet, that’s another thing. Security risk. Wide open. That’s why Bill Gates has disappeared. Him and his second in command. Richest men in the world. Probably living on an island somewhere. Probably don’t even have the internet. It’s a joke, know what I mean?
Not really.
Customer in kagoul and glasses: You want to stick to books, believe me. What would you rather, look something up in the Encyclopoedia Britannica, where you can get the information instantly, or look on the internet and have to go through a million web pages, eh? I mean, how many computers would it take to fit on the whole Encyclopoedia Britannica, eh?
Emily: One.
Customer in kagoul and glasses: Well, yes. But how long would it take, eh?
Emily: They’ve already done it.
Customer in kagoul and glasses: Security risk, that’s what it is. Wide open. They can bring down a country. No, it’s not looking good, the old, er, future. Not looking good. No, if you’re intelligent, you have to keep a low profile.


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  • "In a town like London there are always plenty of not quite certifiable lunatics walking the streets, and they tend to gravitate towards bookshops, because a bookshop is one of the few places where you can hang about for a long time without spending any money."
    George Orwell