ladies and gentleman, good evening. welcome to our french play: "an episode in the life of an author". but what episode is it, and what author? you'll find out shortly. but before we begin, a reminder: if you haven't already done so, please turn off your mobile phones. we also ask you to not use flash photography during the performance. after all, it's our actors' job to dazzle you, and not the other way around!
i hope you enjoy our little show. (applause) perfect! —perfect! —enough! the show is over. there's nothing more we can say to one another. —i should hope not. —one more thing! this letter...
...wasn't from your sister. so you've been rummaging in my drawers? i'm ashamed of you! —your sister loves you, that goes without saying... ...but not enough to call you 'my love'! —so i'm not enough? you're dragging my sister into this? —i'm not dragging your sister into it, i'm making an observation. she isn't the most breathtakingly cultured person, but she knows how to spell. she wouldn't have forgotten the 's' in 'she' and the 'wo' in 'woman'! —you see the tiny things you're clinging onto?
—this letter was from a man! —you're vile! can i ask you just one question? —ask away. —what if it was all your fault?! (snigger) —what are you doing? —sniggering! —disgusting! i cheat on you, and you snigger? do you even feel pain?
i gave you my youth, and you go rummaging in my drawers. —the letter was on the floor... ...in the cupboards. —rummaging in the cupboards, then! i'll be gone in two hours. i'm going back to my mother's. she's dead... ...she died in 1922. —go on! go on, make me feel even worse... ...remind me that my poor mum is dead...
...and that i've got nothing left in the world? she left a house behind, anyway: 122, rue de rataillons, in saint-malo. that's where my illiterate sister lives. i'm going to live with her. —perfect. —of course, you've won. at long last you can cheat on me. you've been waiting twelve years for this day...
...and you've made sure that i'm the one who's in the wrong. —right, for god's sake, who sent you that letter?! —why does it matter? my sister can't write. (doorbell rings) (sobbing) (sniffling) (wailing) —i'm here to see the master. i have an appointment - madame bessarabo.
this is my photographer. —a romanian journalist. i've been putting this off for eight days. we'll finish this conversation later. and i'm not even shaven. —you've not been shaven for twelve years. —you're exaggerating. am i presentable anyway? —no. —i'm flustered, sir, this is such an honour.
this is the photographer. —hello. sit down, madame... ...and forgive me for what i'm wearing. i was working. —oh! what a shame. did i interrupt a scene? —exactly!—ohh! —well, actually, what i mean is... no. —it doesn't matter. it wasn't a scene of mine. —oh, sorry. i'm so nosy.
but i'll be gone soon, i'll be gone before you know it! do you mind if i smoke? go on. —i smoke like a chimney sweep. is that how you say it? —ah, like a chimney. chimney sweeps don't smoke. at least, not while they're working. that would be quite counter-productive, anyway. —what an interesting oddity. everything in france is extraordinary. us romanians, we're fascinated by you.
sir... i'm here to talk about your last play. did you know that "the daisy" was extremely successful in bucharest? it was performed three times! and that's a lot for us. —really? —yes. our audience was so narrow... ...but so enthusiastic too. traditionally, we're attached to everything that comes from france.
the press was unanimous, it had a considerable impact. we almost had it performed a fourth time! however, the general opinion was that it was a little harsh. us romanians... ...we're big idealists. we believe firmly in feelings. and that's why i'm here with you. romania wants to know what you really thing of love... ...considering the links between our two cultures...
...you cannot keep that from us. i'm listening, sir, and i swear... i will be faithful to you. —why do you say that? —because some journalists betray you. i never betray. —well, madame, to tell you the truth... ...i'm a little embarassed. what is there to say about "the daisy" and love?
well, i'm sure you understood the subtle reference in the title: the daisy... "i love you... ...i love you not... ...i love you... ...i love you not." —hello, gorgeous! plumbers here, about the leak. —(cough) sir? —what is it? i'm busy?
—the plumbers are here, about the leak. —well, tell them to go and find it then. —you can clearly see that i'm busy! —where is it? —they're asking where it is. —i heard, thank you. they're here because we don't know where it is. they can start in the attic and check the whole house. —of course, boss, we'll start in the attic.
—how do we get there, gorgeous? —this way. —what's wrong with you, gorgeous? love is beautiful! —i'm sorry. it's really very curious. water keeps oozing, and we don't know where from. —how very strange! believe it or not, in romania... ...my great-uncle, the archimandrite... ...had exactly the same thing in his house. one morning, i woke up, and there was water in the lounge!
—oh, like me. —in the lounge, where there were no water pipes! —like me! —and yet the ceiling was intact, it was like a holy man's house! we thought it was a miracle. —ah, like me! well... i've not got quite that far. yet. so, i was saying...
we were talking about â«the daisyâ». i love you... i love you not... i love you... (the phone rings) please excuse me, just a moment. hello? —hello, lã©on? is that you? —sorry, madame, who? —come on lã©on, it's you. why are you putting on that voice? —no, madame, it's not me.
which number do you need? —jasmin 12-12. —jasmin 12-12 is my number, madame, but i'm terribly sorry, i'm not lã©on. —but sir, jasmin 12-12 is my first husband's number. —i'm sorry madame, it's a mistake. a woman with the wrong number. it's very odd. she must have been given my number several times. —believe it or not, in romania, i had exactly the same thing! of course, i'm certain you know that it's not quite like france there.
we have very long telephone numbers. my one was 7-... 7-... ...-83-... ...-126-... ...-250-... ...-79-... ...-11. —thank you.
—sir, sir! —what is it now? i'm busy! —they're asking if they can shut off the water. —of course they can, but if they shut it off, they'll never find the leak. —oh, sir, it's just awful. —the leak? —oh no, not the leak! —madame? —(in tears) oh no, not madame!
—mystery. —isn't she charming? —just like moliã¨re's servant! —you're exaggerating. really, you're exaggerating. that compliment is an exaggeration. —no no, i'm just saying what i think, sir. everything you do is so admirable... ...and so is moliã¨re, so— —so you were saying, in your lounge, there was a leak?
—no, my phone number. but let's talk about "the daisy" instead. —ah yes, so... i love you, i love you not, i lov— (the phone rings) ...i'm sorry, madame. hello?! —hello, lã©on? —madame, wrong number again. are you sure you're putting in jasmin 12-12? —obviously, monsieur, because as i told you, this is my first husband's number. could you explain to me what you're doing on the line?
—what do you mean, what am i doing on the line, madame? i'm waiting for people to call me on this line, because it's mine! ridiculous. i love you...—yes. —i love you not...—yes. —i love you i love you not! —so. this is how it begins? —i'm sorry... —how what begins?
—the bullying! you shut off the water when i'm in the shower! you know i'm leaving, but that's not enough for you. you're trying to throw my feelings out too! after what you've done. —what have i done?! —don't act all innocent. you know better than me! —i'm so sorry.
so we were talking about "the daisy", and about love. —yes. everything else is just incidental. the leak at my great-uncle's house - the archimandrite... ...the phone numbers... i'll tell you all about that when you come to romania later on. sir. you were so harsh in "the daisy". admit that you lied. admit that you do believe in love. —well, madame... to tell you the truth... love, like daisies...
...has leaves. or rather... petals— no, madame, i am not lã©on! —what's got into you, sweetie, i know you're not lã©on. it's gustave calling, how're you doing, sweetie? —oh, it's you? fine, i'm fine. sorry, just a moment. how're you? —well actually, not very well.
you know i had a great idea for a script? i think i told you about it? —yes, i remember. —"the woman in boas". you know, it's that story... ...about that unbelievably beautiful woman who meets a man... ...in a train and falls in love with him. —yes, yes, yes, very... original. —paul zã¨de bought it from me. he was going to have bourbanski shoot it this spring. they had liliane trã©sor in mind. she had accepted.
but now... she's pulled out. —good lord! why? —she doesn't want to die at the end. —well, that's her right, isn't it? listen, man, there's someone here. —but... what do you mean it's her right? what about my rights? if i want to kill her, who can stop me? i'm the author, after all! anyway, it doesn't add up. first of all, actresses never usually mind dying. in fact they normally want as much tragedy as possible. and next, sweetie...
if you remember the story, you'll realise that she can't not die. right, it's the story of a woman who cheats on her husband with two men... ...then meets a third man on the train... ...and he's an ex-convict who was a double agent in the war... ...and a drug addict! that was the breakthrough! come on, the producers can go on and on all they like about their 'happy endings'. that's life, that is life, my friend. do you think life is funny?—no, it's not funny... ...but listen, i've got someone here, a journalist...
...who has come specially from romania... ...to interview me about a water leak. —what? —oh, no, about... about love. there's a leak too, i'll explain it all to you later. call me back, won't you? —fine, i'll call you back in ten minutes.—okay, thank you. (the doorbell rings) (sniveling)
—is my son there? —yes, madame. —what was i saying? —that love has petals. —petals? —yes yes, sir, the subtle reference! —ah, yes yes yes "the daisy", so... ...love, like daisies, has petals. —how fascinating.
i'm certain that that has never been said before. —(cough) your mother is here, sir. —tell her i'm busy, and she can come back later. —it's very urgent, dear, i need to talk to you at once. —do you mind? i'm yours. what is it? —aren't you going to kiss me? when you were little, you always kissed me. —yes, yes, i'll kiss you. what's going on? i'm busy.
—darling. you know, you're still just four years old to me. it's about the apartment. i've been offered one. it's a trade. i need to reply before midday. —drat! tell me about it later on, i've got someone here... ...from romania who needs to leave very soon. —is ardã¨le there? —yes! but don't bother her, please. it's not going well this morning, so no drama between you two, please. —how could you say that to your mother? have i ever started it?
don't you think it's bad enough to see your only son... ...married to a creature that hates you? —yes, i'm sure it's horrible. and don't stay standing up. —sit down... read the newspaper. —you still need to give me an answer about the apartment, darling. you know, i lost my trial. 25,000 francs for the solicitor... ...and i could be thrown onto the street at any moment.
if only you had a different wife, then i could live here with you! —sit down. read. so, love has petals. i'm sorry, i'm going to have to be quick, i'm completely snowed under. you asked me that very specific question... ...and i will answer you: i... ...believe... ...in love.
—at last, sir! i'll send a message home right away! this will be a relief for all of romania! (thud) (grunting) (mumbling) —ahem-hem. (guffaws) ...yes. i believe in love. i believe in love... ...because only with love, only with love...
...can we escape from our dreadful... ...loneliness. —how beautiful! how well-put! because you, sir... —me. —you believe, like all romanian intelligentsia does these days... ...that man is desperately alone? —man is alone, madame, alone, with only himself in the world...
...with his pitiful freedom... and he has nobody... ...nobody to call him... ...in this desert. (the phone rings) —hello, sweetie, guess what? i just had a call from liliane trã©sor she's fine with dying now, as long as it's from tuberculosis. she got the idea because she has a bit of a cold.
but now paul zã¨de doesn't like it, because apparently it would be too depressing. he thinks it would be better for brittany and canada if she converts... ...and goes to live in a convent. he says it would sell better. —listen, that's all very good, but i haven't finished with the person in my office. please could you call me back a little bit later on? —fine, fine, i'll call you back. —so. "the daisy". —and love.
—is he there? —you again? but sir already helped you out eight days ago. —they're going to cut off my gas. —sir? —yes?! —it's monsieur la surette, sir. he says they're going to cut off his gas. —no, no, no! yes, we were in the army together. yes, you helped me out of the council of war the day i misplaced my rifle...
..but really... ...i gave you 2000 francs eight days ago. —yeah, that was for the potatoes. —and you've eaten 2000 francs worth of potatoes in eight days? —they're cutting off my gas. i can't cook them anymore. —how behind are you on your gas bill? —nine months. they're saying that if i pay off half, they won't cut me off. i need to act fast, you know?
—the numbers? —oh you know, the numbers. here's the document. you see that i'm not lying. and the extra fees. of course, they always add fees. and i also wanted to tell you that i think i've found a job. only i can't go with these shoes. would you happen to have an old pair lying around? drat, drat, drat! wait here, i'll be back soon. —oh, dear...
...do you know what i've found in this newspaper? another apartment. eight rooms, place du trocadã©ro. a furniture exchange. except they haven't said how much it is... what does that mean if they haven't said? —that means a million. —a million for some furniture? when i got married, do you know how much an empire commode was worth? —i'm not interested, that's in the past! i'm all yours, madame. so, "the daisy"...
(whine) —hello? —no! what was i saying? (the doorbell rings) —man is alone, sir, man is desperately alone! —what about the cats? —can't you see i'm busy?! —who will look after the cats now that i'm leaving? —lã©onie is there.
—the maid?! you're leaving the cats to the maid?! is that what you just said?—yes. —did i hear you properly?—yes. —you monster! clothaire is ill! —what's wrong with clothaire? —he's miaowing. (cry) —all cats miaow.
—it's natural. —you brute! you're so insensitive! he's miaowing hoarsely! he knows something is going on. —talk to him! change his mind! you can clearly see that i'm busy! open a can of sardines for him! —brute! insensitive brute! that animal has more heart than you! he won't want any of your sardines! he's sad because he knows i'm leaving! —ahem. good morning, sir.
—good morning? —i see you have several guests waiting for you, but i need to speak to you urgently. —what about, sir? —i am an inspector from the rehousing service. we have been informed that your property is not fully occupied. i have a requisition order for your underused property. —a requisition? but sir, this house is completely occupied. who is being put here? —a policeman, sir. a father of... eight.
brigadier lapomme, he's priority. —no, sir, i protest. this house is legally occupied. —that's exactly what i'm here to check. is this lady family? do you have your ration cards? —she's a romanian journalist. —very good. property occupied by foreign nationals. do you have... a residence permit... on your person, madame? —sir. i am princess bessarabo...
...and i am staying at the ritz hotel. —very good. illegal occupation of another property in paris. —sir, don't mix things up. madame has absolutely nothing to do with this property. madame, would you please step aside for a moment? and you too, take your...machinery. —more family? —you can clearly see, she's a photographer! —that doesn't matter! i've got an uncle who's a painter. —you can send the policeman here with all eight of his children, sir...
...and he can have another one in nine months if he wants. there will be space here, because, do you hear me sir... i'm leaving! —you're freeing up a part of the property? noted! —ardã¨le! monsieur inspector! please! keep calm! an apartment? (groan)
another apartment! darling, this time you can help out your old mummy! twelve rooms, avenue lamartine, just next door to that darling mademoiselle pinocle... ...and for nothing. for two million! and you know what? if i win my appeal... ...i'll get to keep my little apartment in asniã¨res. —twelve rooms on avenue lamartine? and you say you also have a little apartment in asniã¨res? how many rooms? —four. but i'm not stupid, i've only claimed two.
—mum, i command you to keep quiet! and you! stop writing down everything everyone says to you, it's insane! come on now, for heaven's sake, we're talking about this house, no other! if you look, you will see that the property is in full, perfectly regular use. on the ground floor, i have my office, my secretary's office... ...a lounge, the dining room... and here is the hallway! —listen, the gas can wait, but...
...about the shoes, i really need to be there this afternoon. —i'll talk to you later! —what about the first floor? what is there up there? —three bedrooms, all in use. —is there a second floor? —um, for the aesthetic of the front of the house. it's not really a second floor, it's just an... ...optical illusion. —we've got it! we've got it, boss!—what?
—the leak! it starts from the two big empty rooms on the second floor... ...goes through the ping-pong room and the winter garden... ...the two libraries, and finishes in the room... ...where you keep your collection of tin soldiers! —excellent! i'll be taking a look at all of that! —we're buggered. —come on now, make an effort! when i lent you my rifle to help you out of the war council... ...i didn't make you wait this long!
—here! here! take mine! i beg of you, go away! —fine, but it's not just giving that counts. manners are important too. being poor doesn't take away your dignity. do you want these ones? you can probably afford to fix the broken heels! oh and the gas, what about that? —go to the kitchen, take mine!
—so, darling, what do you think about the apartment? the twelve rooms on avenue lamartine, or the eight rooms on place du trocadã©ro? if i need to, i could settle for either. you know, i'm old. i don't get much very more. —of course, you're letting me go. but it won't be as easy as you're hoping. i command you to tell me who that woman is! —what woman?!—your mistress! —what do you mean, my mistress?!
—oh, perfect! you think that letter fooled me? you should know, i'm not. i was certain it was hiding something. —ah! you thought so too, huh? aren't you clever?! so, what was the letter hiding, i ask of you? —you know what, no! i ask it of you! you find out that i've been cheating on you. why did you find it out today... if not because you've been cheating on me?!
listen, ardã¨le. i'm calm! i'm very calm, and whatever happens, i will keep calm! —you're abusing me! —you're cheating on me and abusing me! —do you see him now, your darling son? do you see your sweet little cherub?! —before my son met you, he was always a model of sweetness. he never neglected his mother! —so, what are you doing about the gas?
you're not going to leave me with my 250 kilos of raw potatoes? —keep calm! everybody keep extremely calm! (growl) where is it? (the phone keeps ringing) —hello? is that you, lã©on? —yes. i'm lã©on.
i'd love to be lã©on. why wouldn't i be lã©on? —so... why are you putting on a voice? —i'm putting on a voice to make you laugh. —don't be mean, lã©on. i know you love somebody else. but i'm calling you because... ...something awful is happening to me. i won't be able to stay here anymore. i need to find an apartment.
—an apartment? —in that case, i'll pass you onto someone, just a moment. mum? a lady who is calling about an apartment. —an apartment?—yes! —really, an apartment? thank you, darling! do you see now what a good son he is? hello? hello? madame, hello? hello? —two down.
you. go to the kitchen. eat everything in the refrigerator... ...and drink all the bottles you will find there. —what about the maid? —comfort her. three down. hey, you. listen to me properly now. look me in the eye. —no, no. you're a coward. you know that whenever you look at me straight on...
...i tell you everything. so, madame. an apartment, really? yes, madame, an apartment! how many rooms in the apartment, madame? oh, three or four rooms, madame? —that sounds perfect, madame! —really, madame? perfect? you don't know how happy... —oh no, i'm the happy one, madame. i don't want to be inappropriate, but... what about the exchange?
—it's a little embarrassing... to tell the truth, i'd prefer... no exchange. —me too, madame, i'd prefer there to be no exchange! —really, madame? no exchange? really? so you accept? —of course, madame, i accept! aren't we getting along so well? when can i come and see you, madame? —right away, madame, if you can. i'm just dying to get there! —oh no, i'm dying madame, really... what's the address? —118, boulevard ravachol. madame frippon-minet. —i'll fly, madame, i'll fly! see you soon!
thank you, darling, this is wonderful. four rooms on boulevard ravachol. without an exchange! everything works out if people just get along. people are a lot less selfish than you think. goodbye, goodbye! i'll see myself out, lovebirds! —is jacques there? —yes, dear gontran. come on in, come in, i adore you! —listen to me now. i know we can sometimes make mistakes. —so, you admit it?
—no, for heaven's sake, admit what?! —let go of me, that's enough! your dishonesty makes me sick! it's done, i'm leaving. —ah, you're both here. —yes! we're here! you can see. —i have to admit, i wasn't expecting that sort of welcome from you on a day like this. —what's wrong with you, dear gontran? you're so pale!
—it's over. do you have a revolver? —bloody hell, no. i'd be able to use it if i did. what do you need a revolver for? —no reason. i'd've preferred a revolver, that's all. i'll sort myself out. —come on, tell us, what's wrong? —you know i left lucienne? —yes! he left lucienne, i didn't tell you! —what's this? he left lucienne?—yep.
—and you didn't tell me?—nope. —were you afraid it would give me ideas? come on now, admit it, you were going to leave me too! —keep calm! he left lucienne more than three months ago. —i love lã©a!—that pole?! —make your wife shut up! —that prune?! that bald prune?! —i order you to shut your wife up! —he's right, ardã¨le, nothing gives you the right to—
—...to say say she's a prune? —a prune? lã©a, a prune? she's blonde now! —you too, shut up. everybody shut up. no more talking. communicate with signs. —and anyway, who said anything about lã©a? i'm not talking about lã©a! —i'd rather not think about her, that tart! —i'm talking about lucienne. that's what's terrible! —what has she done? has she killed herself? i'm sure she's killed herself, let's call her right away!
—ah ah ah, keep calm! if she's killed herself, there's no use. —she won't answer the phone anymore. she won't answer my letters. she's been cheating on me, she's been cheating on me ever since i left her! (sobbing) how could she do this to me? how could she do this to me? how could she do this to me?! —keep calm! everybody keep calm, all the way! —hello, is that you, sweetie? your number wasn't free. you know, i have a great idea for the end of my script. —later, my darling, later! keep calm, just keep calm!
—what do you mean, your darling? what's wrong with you? hello? hello? hello? you pig! —this time, you've been caught red-handed. who were you on the phone to? i order you to tell me who it was, you coward! it was your darling, wasn't it? go on, deny it! take this! —he's fainted. you need to call a doctor. he might have taken poison. i going to find some iodine.
—hello? mademoiselle, this is jasmin 12-12. somebody just called me. i need to know their number at once. is it hard to do? call your supervisor. it's for quai d'orsay, second office. homeland security. your job and the future of the country are both on the line! there is a lot at risk if not. do what i say, mademoiselle. hello? hello? hello? thank you, mademoiselle. you're faithful to france.
you'll be promoted for this, i'll inform the ministry. (the lady's phone rings) —hello. this is jasmin 12-12. —so, you're lã©on's new woman. —what? he's calling himself lã©on now? what a coward! —i must admit, i did want to talk to you, madame. are you the one who sent me that mad woman who wanted to steal my apartment? —your apartment? what has your apartment got to do with me? you're trying to steal my husband from me!
—madame, i'll have you know, you're the one who's stealing him from me. lã©on loves me! —you? with that face of yours? i can see it down the phone! —oh, you think i can't see yours? i will take him back from you, if you don't give him to me. —me?! —you! —you?! —me!
—me?! —scrounger! sponger! you dirty lout! i'll teach you to fondle my maid! —i lent you my rifle, for the council review! just because you've got somewhere in life, doesn't mean you can keep everything to yourself! and anyway, you told me to comfort her! —not like that! —and she's only your maid, after all! —actually, she's not just that, you bastard!
and you... stop crying, it's been getting on my nerves since this morning! —but sir, you don't know! it's horrible! —what else could be horrible now? i'm like oedipus now, i want to know everything! —i'm pregnant! (sobbing) (gasping, cackling) —all the same, we need to keep calm. —sir, i can't wait any longer!
the intelligentsia of romania is desperate to know what you think about love! —get the hell out of here, you. get the hell back to romania right now! —he's gone mad! it's amazing! —this will make the front page! no matter, take a picture of him like this! —madame, i warn you! i don't know how it works in romania... ...but i tell you, if you photograph me like this... ...i will kill your photographer! —oh well, we'll replace her.
go on then. go on! that's right, go on. —there you are, sir. i've looked around. well played, sir. very well played! twelve rooms too many! you'll have your policeman, and maybe even two. —what's that i heard? what did i hear while i was on the phone?
well, i tell you what, i've got a knife! —very well, sir. a gentleman knows to keep his cool. —ah, that's the way you're taking it, my chum? how ironic on top of everything. well, you'll have three policemen. one brigadier, and two officers, all fathers. and when their children grow up, they'll make you even more... ...and they'll all live here until their children's children get married... ...and make even more.
—i'm calm. yoga. remember what the yogi said. —remember whatever you want to, sir. you won't be forgetting me any time soon. i'll throw some hundred-year-olds from the auvergne in too. —i am calm, i am calm, i am calm! i'm very calm. calmer and calmer. —amazing! he's amazing! he's gone completely barmy! ha! what a genius! incredible genius!
take another snap, my friend, won't you? —look out! lookout! —what?! —the leak... the real leak. we had the wrong one before. but we made a slip-up. it's spurting out... it's spurting out everywhere. we can't control it anymore... every man for himself! —your apartment! your lovely apartment!
nobody in the family will have an apartment anymore! —hello, sweetie, am i bothering you? —not at all. —ah! this time you'll listen to me then. so i had an incredible brainwave for the end of my script. a fire! yes yes, a fire! everything finishes with a blaze! —that's a great idea! —and then, you can hear gunshots. gunshots during the fire... ...do you realise the effect of that?
—yes, i get it. i understand perfectly, that sounds very funny! —i'm starting to think you're distracted, sweetie. you shouldn't be selfish in life, you know. there you are, comfortable and happy in your office... ...and you don't have any idea how distressing it is to come up with an ending! —you're not hurt are you, darling? —no, my love, everything is fine. —oh, i was so scared!
—you hear me? everything is fine! everything is absolutely fine! —do you want me to say it? you're unbearable. you just say whatever to keep me happy, you don't even listen to me... ...come on, be frank for once... ...and admit outright that you don't like my ending! —listen, sweetie! i'm going to say it. i agree with paul zã¨de.
i may have written "the daisy"... ...but i still prefer happy endings! —you showman! you sad little aimless showman! i'm not going to forget this, don't expect me to call you back! (water spurting) —hello? lã©on? lã©on?! lã‰on?!
—we do what we can, ladies and gentlemen. and anyway... ...these days, there are so many thinkers at the theatre, that... ...if at least he made you laugh, i'm sure... ...you will forgive the mistakes... ...of the author.