Basil Good evening. Is everything to your satisfaction?

Mr Heath Yes thank-

Mrs Heath (interrupting) Well . . . (she turns expectantly to their son)

Ronald I don’t like the chips.

Basil Sorry?

Ronald The chips are awful.

Basil (smiling balefully) Oh dear. What’s er . . . what’s wrong with them, then?

Ronald They’re the wrong shape and they’re just awful.

Mrs Heath I’m afraid he gets everything cooked the way he likes it at home.

Basil Ah, does he, does he?

Ronald Yes I do, and it’s better than this pig’s garbage.

Mrs Heath (slightly amused) Now, Ronald.

Ronald These eggs look like you just laid them.

Mrs Heath (ineffectually) Ronald . . .

Mr Heath (to Ronald, friendlily) Now look here, old chap . . .

Mrs Heath Shut up! Leave him alone! (to Basil) He’s very clever, rather highly strung.

Basil Yes, yes, he should be.

Ronald Haven’t you got any proper chips?

Basil Well these are proper French fried potatoes. You see, the chef is Continental.

Ronald Couldn’t you get an English one?

Mrs Heath (to Ronald) Why don’t you eat just one or two, dear?

Ronald They’re the wrong shape.

Basil Oh dear - what shape do you usually have? Mickey Mouse shape? Smarties shape? Amphibious landing craft shape? Poke in the eye shape?

Ronald . . . God, you’re dumb.

Mrs Heath Oh, now . . .

Basil (controlling himself) Is there something we can get you instead, Sonny?

Ronald I’d like some bread and salad cream.

Basil . . . To eat? Well . . .(pointing) there’s the bread, and there’s the mayonnaise.

Ronald I said salad cream stupid.

Basil We don’t have any salad cream. The chef made this(indicating the mayonnaise) freshly this morning.

Ronald What a dump!

Mr Heath (offering Ronald the mayonnaise) This is very good.

Mrs Heath (coldly) He likes salad cream.

Ronald (to Basil) That’s puke, that is.

Basil Well, at least it’s fresh puke.

Mrs Heath (shocked) Oh dear!!

Basil (indignantly) Well, he said it!

Mrs Heath (loftily) May I ask why you don’t have proper salad cream. I mean, most restaurants . . .

Basil Well, chef only buys it on special occasions, you know, gourmet nights and so on, but . . . when he’s got a bottle - ah! - he’s a genius with it. He can unscrew the cap like Robert Carrier. It’s a treat to watch him. (he mimes) And then . . . right on the plate! None on the walls! Magic! He’s a wizard with a tin-opener, too. He got a Pulitzer Prize for that. He can have the stuff in the saucepan before you can say haute cuisine. You name it, he’ll heat it up and scrape it off the pan for you. Mind you, skill like that isn’t picked up over night. Still, I’ll tell him to get some salad cream, you never know when Henry Kissinger is going to drop in, do you. (Mrs Heath is silenced; Basil smiles charmingly,looks at his watch and in so doing neatly elbows Ronald in the head) Sorry, sorry! (he moves off)

Mr Heath Nice man.