. Irish Flames - a play by John Waller
Freedom Books and Plays

ROBERTS: Come on Captain. Loads of grub.

JOHNSTONE: Fancy food.

ROBERTS: (Holding a snipe by its beak). What’s this? Ruddy sparrow, phew what a beak.

JOHNSTONE: Never seen one of them before.

ROBERTS: (Taking a bite out of a pheasant). Don’t they have proper nosh?

JOHNSTONE: That looks like pheasant. That’s what the gentry eat.

ROBERTS: Give me a chicken any day.

JOHNSTONE: You cockney’s know nothing about food.

ROBERTS: Look at this fish. Bloody whale.

JOHNSTONE: It’s a salmon. What a beauty.

ROBERTS: Not as good as a bit of cod and mushy peas.

JOHNSTONE: You’ll be going on about jellied eels soon.

ROBERTS: Nothing’s like London.

JOHNSTONE: You’re just a city boy.

ROBERTS: What a godforsaken country this is, Captain.

JOHNSTONE: It rains all the time.

ROBERTS: There are no proper roads.

JOHNSTONE: Only narrow lanes – and they’re full of mud.

ROBERTS: But the drink is good. (He pours Johnstone a glass of wine.)

JOHNSTONE: Do you ever think of anything but drink?

ROBERTS: Give me a few pints of Guinness and I’m happy. And we don’t have to pay for it. Every other house can sell it. (Laughing) We just walk in, shout at the owner they are hiding someone and we get a pint.

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