Hard negotiations before rush hour.
(some adult content)

SFX: Phone rings.

FEMALE VOICE:  Hello.

ROLF:   Gina?

GINA:   Yes. Have you any idea what time it is, Rolf?

ROLF: I’m really sorry. hen. I’ve only just finished work.

GINA: It’s six o’clock in the morning. You’re an estate agent.

ROLF: Aye, well. You get talking, you know. All part of the commission, sweetie.

GINA:   This is a really wild guess, but have you been -

ROLF:   Not a drop. No more than a wee Irish coffee.

(Silence)

ROLF: Listen, Gina. You know I love you. You know I’d do anything in the world for you…

(Silence)

ROLF: Could you look something up on the computer for me?

GINA:   What?

ROLF: Could you find out the gestation period of an elephant in months?

GINA:   Really.

ROLF: And then could you deduct that figure from the year in which Shostakovich wrote his Second Symphony?

(Pause)

ROLF: And that should give you a 4-digit number.

(Pause)

ROLF:   Gina?

GINA: You’ve forgotten your PIN again, haven’t you.

ROLF: No, no, no. I would nae get you up for that. Just a friend o’ mine needs to know really urgently.

GINA: You wanna know your PIN number, look on your dick.

ROLF:   Eh?

GINA: I’ve written your PIN number in indelible ink on the underside of your penis.

ROLF:   Why?

GINA: So you’ll always have it to hand. Quite efficient, don’t you think? And as you spend most o’ your time at home comatose, it wasn’t that difficult.

ROLF:   I don’t believe you!

GINA: Oh yeah? Go on then. Have a peep at Mr. Zippy.

ROLF:   Gina. I’m in the middle of King’s Cross Station.

GINA:   Go on…. you just said you’d do anything for me.

ROLF:   My God. Hang on. I’m on a payphone.

(Pause)

ROLF:   Jesus, it’s freezing here.

GINA:   You found it yet?

ROLF:   Gina. It just looks like a smudge.

GINA: Aye, well. It looks like a smudge now, but when I wrote it, you were a wee bit tenser. If Mr. Zippy’s going to reveal the code, he may need a little persuasion.

ROLF:   My God!

GINA:   Would you like me to arouse you?

ROLF:   Eh?

GINA: Can you remember that far back? When I used to dress as a French chambermaid and give you room service, “Would you like to lick the cherry off my Café Liègeois, Monsieur?”, “Oh, I am so clumsy, I seem to ‘ave spilt some of the cream and it is dripping down my naked thighs”….

ROLF:   No, no! It’s OK!

GINA: Or a French plumber. “Zut alors! I have never ‘ad my ‘ands on a stop-cock as stiff as this”….

ROLF:   Don’t worry, hen. I’ll do it maeself.

GINA:   Or a French nuclear physicist –

ROLF: For God’s sake woman, will ya shut it. It’s not easy trying to conjure up Elle MacPherson in a Kilmarnock shirt on a main line station at this time in the morning….

GINA:   I know. I’ve seen your DIY jobs before.

(Pause. Heavy breathing)

ROLF: OK. If I can just get ma heed round…. bloody hell, I feel like a contortionist.

GINA: (Fake Aussie accent) Can you see what it is yet, Rolf?

ROLF: Just a minute. Yes, it says…..”You Dump”…….”You Dump”? What’s that mean?

GINA: It’s supposed to say “You’re Dumped”. Which was clearly too many letters for the little chap to cope with.

ROLF: So, you’re dumpin’ me, eh? Could you not have found a more diplomatic way of doing it? Like sending a text message…. or wrapping a note round a brick and strappin’ it to ma testicles…

GINA:   You’re breakin’ up, honey.

ROLF: Breakin’ up! More like crackin’ up! I’m standin’ in the middle of this bloody concourse with a morning glory the size of Zanzibar….

[Fade out with telephone pips]

[Refocus into: grey-haired man in a suit, sliding a sheet of paper across a table]

MAN IN SUIT: Right, Mr. Edwards. That’s your final statement is it. If can you just sign it in the bottom corner… and then we’ll discuss bail and personal injury.