Music: ominous music F/X: wind sweeping across the countryside Death (m): Ho there, wizened old man! Man (m): I beg yours? Death: I said Ho there, wizened old man gathering wooden logs to bring a meagre spark of warmth to his ragged old body. Man: Sorry again? Death: Ohh, you are a wizened old man gathering wooden logs to bring a meagre spark of warmth to his ragged old body, aren't you? Man: Not me, no. Death: What's this you're carrying then, Esther Rantzen's toothpicks? (pause) Know you not in whose morbid presence you now stand, miserable wretch? I am the red-hooded figure of Death! Man: Sorry, I've already voted. Death: What!? Man: Aren't you canvassing for the Tory party then? Death: Look! I am Death! I am the awesome apocalyptic personage of the ultimate reaper of souls, harbinger of mortal termination, and general snuffer of life! And I finished canvassing for the Tory party two weeks ago! Now don't muck me about, buster, that false moustache you're wearing isn't fooling anybody. Man: What pathetic looking wig? Death: I'm not talking about the wig. I'm talking about that cheap moustache. Man: It's not cheap! Death: It's got five p off on it, half price. Man: No, that's my tongue! It's a bit furry. Death: That is a false moustache. Man: It's my tongue, honestly! Death: We'll soon sort this out! F/X: ripping/peeling noises (slight pause) Death: Well, I'm sorry, I.. I do beg your pardon. Man: I ju' ho' your sa'isfie' now. Death: Well, enough of this hollow [??]. Old man, your moment is due, the hour is up, the warrant signed, the sands of time have run their course, I, Death, have come for you! F/X: gun shot Man: Hah! I didn't think much of that. Death: What!? Man: Well, it was pretty damned banal, wasn't it? Just shooting me. Death: What do you mean? It's death, isn't it? Man: Well, I was hoping for something a bit more mystical. Death: (mocking him in a posh accent) Ohh? We'd like a bit more mystical, would we? Been watching Ingmar Bergman again, have we? Shooting not good enough for us, is it? Pardon me while I wipe me nose! (normal) You akward, uncooperative little ponce! Lie down and stop breathing at once! Man: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. Death: Noƫle Gordon! Man: Ahhhhh!! Ahhhhhhh! Aahhaahahaa! Death: All right, I'll tell you what I'll do. I... have a proposition. Take this back to your village. Man: What is it? Death: It's name.. is the Red Death. Man: Ohh. Do you get Green Shield stamps with it? Death: (exasperated) [No ??] you little [??]! It's the Red Death! It's a horrible, putrid plague, that brings a festering misery and abominable blight upon the whole of humanity! Man: Nicholas who? Death: Look, just take it and go!! Music: continues Narrator (m): And pestilence and devastation were the hideous hallmarks of the Red Death, which descended over the land. Throughout the country people went down like flies, slowly and very carefully. Some men were stricken in their prime, others in the knees; even the most eminent of families fell victim to the unrelenting horrors of the scourge. Cliff Richard died before he was young, and Eric Heffer caught the disease while still a baby, at the age of fifty-two. After six weeks, the authorities found that bodies were starting to mount in the streets, so they poured buckets of cold water over them. And after yet twenty weeks there was still no sign of any abatement in Red Death's all pervading scarlet terror. Music: fades out F/X: coach making it's way through the countryside Coachman (m): (shouting) Make way for the Prince Prospero! Come on, come on, make way now! Make way for the Prince Prospero! Make way now, make waaay! Prince Prospero (m): Er, coachman... Coachman: Make.. make way for the..? Prince Prospero: Coachman. Coachman: Yes, Sir? Prince Prospero: I'm quite capable of seducing this girl without your help, thank you. Now get out of this carriage. Girl (f): Wait! I refuse to be kissed by this drunken [??]'s pig. Prince Prospero: Oh, and take the pig with you. Coachman: Yes, Sir! F/X: pig grunting Prince Prospero: I'm sorry about that, my dear, I didn't realise you were Jewish. Girl: Prospero, you evil dog! You will pay for what you have done to me tonight! Prince Prospero: American Express? Girl: That should do nicely.