erify----

LEMMY. Yer leave it at tryin', daon't yer? Never, mind, ye're a
gryte institootion. Blimy, yer do have jokes, wiv it, spinnin' rahnd
on yer own tyles, denyin' to-dy wot ye're goin' to print to-morrer.
Ah, well! Ye're like all of us below the line o' comfort--live
dyngerously--ever' dy yer last. That's wy I'm interested in the
future.

PRESS. Well now--the future. [Writing] "He prophesies."

LEMMY. It's syfer, 'yn't it? [He winks] No one never looks back on
prophecies. I remembers an editor spring o' 1916 stykin' his
reputytion the war'd be over in the follerin' October. Increased 'is
circulytion abaht 'arf a million by it. 1917 an' war still on--'ad
'is readers gone back on 'im? Nao! They was increasin' like
rabbits. Prophesy wot people want to believe, an' ye're syfe. Naow,
I'll styke my reputation on somethin', you tyke it dahn word for
word. This country's goin' to the dawgs--Naow, 'ere's the
sensytion--unless we gets a new religion.

PRESS. Ah! Now for it--yes?

LEMMY. In one word: "Kindness." Daon't mistyke me, nao sickly
sentiment and nao patronizin'. Me as kind to the millionaire as 'im
to me. [Fills his mug and drinks.]

PRESS. [Struck] That's queer! Kindness! [Writing] "Extremes
meet. Bombed and bomber breathing the same music."

LEMMY. But 'ere's the interestin' pynt. Can it be done wivaht
blood?

PRESS. [Writing] "He doubts."

LEMMY. No dabt wotever. It cawn't! Blood-and-kindness! Spill the
blood o' them that aren't kind--an' there ye are!

PRESS. But pardon me, how are you to tell?

LEMMY. Blimy, they leaps to the heye!

PRESS. [Laying down-his note-book] I say, let me talk to you as man
to man for a moment.

LEMMY. Orl right. Give it a rest!

PRESS. Your sentiments are familiar to me. I've got a friend on the
Press who's very keen on Christ and kindness; and wants to strangle
the last king with the--hamstrings of the last priest.

LEMMY. [Greatly intrigued] Not 'arf! Does 'e?

PRESS. Yes. But have you thought it out? Because he hasn't.

LEMMY. The difficulty is--where to stop.

PRESS. Where to begin.

LEMMY. Lawd! I could begin almost anywhere. Why, every month
abaht, there's a cove turns me aht of a job 'cos I daon't do just wot
'e likes. They'd 'ave to go. I tell yer stryte--the Temple wants
cleanin' up.

PRESS. Ye-es. If I wrote what I thought, I should get the sack as
quick as you. D'you say that justifie