I know better than most how important the physical attributes of the Bond girls are, I really do. But I missed a chance to write bad things about Trump. That makes me sad.
Act 2, Scene 2. A club
He meets Alchemist Dent, Pleydell-Smith, etc. (Not strictly necessary but some fun could be had with it)
Act 2, Scene 4. A drinking place.
Lord Felix: Sup with us, Sir James.
Sir James: Stir not mine mead, though let it be shaken.
Damsel Annabel: Thine likeness I doth seek, Sir James.
Sir James: Seize her, Quarrel! Now, thou shalt impart unto me who doth seek mine likeness.
Damsel Annabel: Ne'er shall I tell.
Quarrel: This damsel shalt tell us naught. Her arm shall I break, Sir James?
Sir James: Nay, though mayhap another time.
Damsel Annabel: Thee be rats who shalt be sorry! (Exits.)
Quarrel: The Duke and I did these rocks find on the Isle of Crabs.
Sir James: And who doth own this isle?
Lord Felix: 'Tis the isle of a physician from the Orient.
Sir James: Physician? Nay!
Lord Felix: Funny it is that thou should say that....
Act 2, Scene 4. A drinking place. A band plays "Good Morning Kingston Town".
Lord Felix: Sup with us, Sir James.
Sir James: Stir not mine mead, though let it be shaken. (Sir James espies a beauteous damsel sitting at an easel, painting furiously on a large canvas.)
Sir James: Hm, methinks I hast seen this wench before- seize her, Quarrel! (Quickly Quarrel brings ye damsel to their table.)
Sir James: Let me see this painting...
Lord Felix: Not bad! I'll take a copy, and canst thou do one of me, too?
Damsel Annabel: This I have done already, lo!
Lord Felix: Hm, not so sure of that I be...
Sir James: ...er, I'll take that if thou dost not mind.
Damsel Annabel: And in mine spare time, I do still life- see?
Sir James: Hideous! Now, damsel, thou shalt impart unto me who doth seek mine likeness.
Damsel Annabel: Nay, ne'er shall I tell.
Quarrel: This damsel shalt tell us naught. Her arm shall I break, Sir James?
Sir James: Mayhap another time- free her, I prithee.
Damsel Annabel: Thee be rats who shalt be sorry! (Exits.)
Quarrel: The Duke and I did these rocks find on the Isle of Crabs.
Sir James: And who doth own this isle?
Lord Felix: 'Tis the isle of a physician from the Orient.
Sir James: Physician? Nay!
Lord Felix: Funny it is that thou should say that....
What thread was just closed and why wasn't I involved in the reason it was closed (as far as I know)? ?:)
Are you talking about the cardigan that was for sale recently? I have the inside scoop, in nauseating detail. If Barbel didn't mind, I could PM it to you but seeing as this is for his eyes only...it would be a bit hard.
Ok. What is dr No's plan on the Island? It can't be shooting down spaceships. Perhaps bird ****, like in the book? In that case we got to have some jokes about the smell.
The giant magnet I like, and perhaps we can write in a line or two from Felix about how he's been sent here because their cannonballs keep veering off course? [Edit- have done that.]
When Sir James visits Pleydell-Smith (still 2 scenes away) he can be told about the guano (scope for puns there!) but doesn't find out about the magnet till Physician Nay tells him near the end.
Next up, Sir James goes to see Dent:
Act 2, Scene 5. An alchemist’s workshop.
Sir James: Lend an eye to these rocks, I prithee, and impart to me their provenance.
Alchemist Dent: Such rocks doth in no way from the Isle of Crabs hail, under no circumstance, most exceedingly not. From any other isle they doth come, yet in truth not from that isle. Not there. Most definitely.
Lord Felix: (Aside) Most surely an inferior alchemist this is, or the worst of liars.
It's very brief. Felix doesn't have to be there, he could say that line later (at the boat with Quarrel). Possibly it could be expanded to include Dent's trip to ye Isle of Crabs, where he is given a spider...? (or maybe not a spider...?) More banter between Dent and Sir James?
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Ah... hello Sir James, what canst I do for thee?
Sir James: Lend an eye to these rocks, I prithee, and impart to me their provenance.
Alchemist Dent: These rocks? Naught but common iron they be, from many of ye isles here.
Sir James: I rather fancied they didst come from ye Isle of Crabs.
Alchemist Dent: Such rocks doth in no way from ye Isle of Crabs hail, under no circumstance, most exceedingly not. From any other isle they doth come, yet in truth not from that isle. Not there. Most definitely. No sirree.
Sir James: I see, thank'ee Alchemist Dent. (Exits.)
(Later, at a harbour.)
Captain: Greetings, Alchemist Dent, what doth bring thee here in daylight?
Alchemist Dent: To ye Isle of Crabs thou must take me, apace and forthwith.
Captain: Nay, this cannot be, thou dost know this!
Alchemist Dent: Ye responsibility shalt be mine- make haste!
Sir Miles: Does the term Topol-ing mean anything to you naught,naught seven ?
Sir James; It's dressing up as a beloved actor and singing about being a rich man !
Isn't it ?
Sir Miles: aye, but it also means interfering with the flight path of a cannon ball, The
American colonists have been using a new powerful cannon, but their balls are
Dropping all over the place.
Sir James: oh I believe that's called teabaging sir
Sir Miles: Last one landed in the Caribbean, so you're going to help find out what or
Who is responsible.
Sir James: aye Sir, I'll find out who's been Interfering with their Balls.
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Dent? I know of no Dent- who hath told thee that I am Dent?
Sir James: ...er... Ye sign on thine door states thine name, and we did meet yesterday.
Alchemist Dent: Oh, yes... Dent... Hello Sir James, what canst I do for thee?
Sir James: Lend an eye to these rocks, I prithee.
Alchemist Dent: Rocks? What rocks are these thou do speak of? I see no rocks!
Sir James: These rocks here.
Alchemist Dent: Oh, those rocks...
Sir James: I prithee, impart to me their provenance.
Alchemist Dent: Naught but common iron they be, from many of ye isles here.
Sir James: I rather fancied they didst come from ye Isle of Crabs.
Alchemist Dent: Such rocks doth in no way from ye Isle of Crabs hail, under no circumstance, most exceedingly not. From any other isle they doth come, yet in truth not from that isle. Not there. Most definitely. No sirree.
Sir James: I see, thank'ee Alchemist Dent. (Exits.)
(Later, at a harbour.)
Captain: Greetings, Alchemist Dent, what doth bring thee here in daylight?
Alchemist Dent: To ye Isle of Crabs thou must take me, apace and forthwith.
Captain: Nay, this cannot be, thou dost know this!
Alchemist Dent: Ye responsibility shalt be mine- make haste!
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Dent? I know of no Dent- who hath told thee that I am Dent?
Sir James: ...er... Ye sign on thine door states thine name, and we did meet yesterday.
Alchemist Dent: Oh, yes... Dent... Hello Sir James, what canst I do for thee?
Sir James: Lend an eye to my stones, I prithee.
Alchemist Dent: I be'ith not that sort of alchemist, perhaps a Psychian...
Sir James:Nay, these here....
( He doth expose his stones to Dent )
Alchemist Dent: We scientists do call'ith them Rocks !
Sir James: These rocks here.
Alchemist Dent: Oh, those rocks...
Sir James: I prithee, impart to me their provenance.
Alchemist Dent: Naught but common iron they be, from many of ye isles here.
Sir James: Nothing unusual about them ?
Alchemist Dent: Nay, perfectly normal.
( as he speaks , a rock slides across the table to stick to a suit of armour in the corner )
Alchemist Dent: That happens all the time.
Sir James: Moving sideways like that, I rather fancied they didst come from ye Isle of Crabs.
Alchemist Dent: Such rocks doth in no way from ye Isle of Crabs hail, under no circumstance, most exceedingly not. From any other isle they doth come, yet in truth not from that isle. Not there. Most definitely. No sirree.
Sir James: I see, thank'ee Alchemist Dent. (Exits.)
(Later, at a harbour.)
Captain: Greetings, Alchemist Dent, what doth bring thee here in daylight?
Alchemist Dent: To ye Isle of Crabs thou must take me, apace and forthwith.
Captain: Nay, this cannot be, thou dost know this!
Alchemist Dent: Ye responsibility shalt be mine- make haste!
Captain : Very well but first fillout this form, sign here, here and Here. initial here
and here. Have you packed your bags yourself ?......
Alchemist Dent: Yes, and can you stamp my frequent sailings card.
Captain : oh, you're just one away from a free, complementary bag of Guano !
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Next bit, Dent is grilled by the Physician and given a spider... or maybe something else?
(Later still, on ye Isle of Crabs, Alchemist Dent ist shown into a strange room.)
Alchemist Dent: ....Hello? (There ist no reply.) Hello? (From off, we doth hear a toilet flush then ye sound of footsteps.)
Unseen Voice: Sorry about that but when ye got to go, ye got to go. Ah, Denty-baby!
Alchemist Dent: Ye name ist HIGG... er, DENT!!! X-( X-( X-(
Unseen Voice: And thou hast come to my isle in daylight, wherefore hast thou done this?
Alchemist Dent: Today I wast visited by Sir James Bond.
Unseen Voice: I know how he ist, what he ist and what he hast come for- 'twas on ye cards. He willst not succeed.
Alchemist Dent: What wouldst thou have me do?
Unseen Voice: Go to yon table....
Then...
Act 3, Scene 1. Sir James returns to his room.
Steward: Your mead, sir. Shaken as thee said, and not stirred.
Sir James: I thank'ee, my good man. (Steward exits. Sir James drinks his mead, then doth open his satchel. From within he produces a bottle of strong beverage from ye land of ye Tsars, two bottles of wine, a flask of ouzo and one lemon. Mixing them all together, he doth drink ye lot and fall into bed.)
Sir James: (Drunkenly sings.) Three blind mice, in a row.... (Sir James falls asleep. A few hours later, he doth awake...)
A few hours later, he doth awake.
Something stirs in his bed. Sir James twitches and glances down.
Sir James: 'Tis an unfamiliar twitch down there... ist that thee, May?
Silence meets Naught Naught Seven as the creature slowly and inexorably creeps up his leg.
Sir James: May, hast thou a secret thou art keeping from me? Be thou more Brian than May?
With haste, Sir James flings back the coverlet and espies a snake slithering up his body.
Sir James: An asp!
From a corner of his room, a voice mutters: "Dummkopf Asp,"
Sir James springs from the bed and searches for a slipper with which to banish the asp. Reaching beneath his bed, he withdraws a tatty green trainer, before hastily discarding it. The asp sends a venomous glance towards the voice in the corner, and with a hiss, is gone.
Sir James: There ist ne'er a cigar nor shaving foam handy when one needeth one...
Just a thought- we haven't bothered with Act 2, Scene 2- Sir James meets Dent, Pleydell-Smith, etc at a club. It might be fun to have Dent being obsessed with timepieces, ordering bratwurst & sauerkraut, etc... thus setting up the jokes above.
Act 2, Scene 2. Pleydell-Smith takes Sir James to a club.
Pleydell-Smith: Here we art, Sir James, I shall introduce ye to the members here. Take heed, some art a bit eccentric.
Sir James: And what ist ye name of this club?
Pleydell-Smith: ‘Tis “Ye Quiet Arrow & Maiden’s Undergarment.” (They join a group of men sitting at a table.)
Pleydell-Smith: Greetings, gentlemen. May I introduce Sir James Bond, who hast travelled from Albion to succeed the Duke of Strangways? (Ye gentlemen murmur “Hello”.) Here ist Colonel Chas, from Scotland...
Colonel: Hoots mon, hello! (Eats some haggis, then absent-mindedly produces a guitar from beneath his kilt and begins strumming.)
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Don’t ask him about ye guitar, ‘twill only encourage him. (Aloud.) Ye next chair ist reserved for Sir Paul, he ist Miles....
Sir James: Miles?
Pleydell-Smith: ...Miles away right now. And from Albion, this be Lord Dangerous.
Lord Dangerous: Charmed. This be mine assistant, from Norway. Twenty-three assistants I hast had, and I can never remember their names, so he ist known as...
Number 24: Be’est thee from England, Sir James? (There ist a collective gasp, and all look nervously at ye aged Colonel, who hast begun to turn red and ist drawing in breath to speak.)
Sir James: ‘Tis often thought so, but mine father was a Scot and mine mother from Switzerland. (All relax, relieved.)
Pleydell-Smith: Next is Alchemist Dent, from Deutschland.... oh, but he ist not here. Merely a chair with a beach towel thrown across it. Landlord, where ist Alchemist Dent? (Ye landlord approaches, a bearded man with suspiciously dark hair wearing a jester’s outfit.)
Landlord: Sure, to be sure gentlemen, I could not say. I shalt ask mine assistant- Virgil! Virgil Tracy! (A young man dressed as Captain Scarlet approaches.)
Virgil: Aye, landlord? I wast just polishing ye A.R.S.E. and feeding Holly.
Landlord: These gentlemen doth seek Alchemist Dent, know ye where he can be found?
Virgil: Hmm, he was last in ye Memorabilia chamber arguing with another gentleman member over which kind of timepiece wast better.
Landlord: Nothing unusual there then...
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Ye Alchemist doth like to argue... a lot. Ah, here he comes now. (Enter Alchemist Dent, polishing a large timepiece.) Denty-babe, there thou art!
Alchemist Dent: Ye name is DENT!!! X-( X-( X-(
Pleydell-Smith: But of course you are. I prithee, greet Sir James from Albion.
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Greetings? Why do you say “greetings”? And who hath told thee I am Dent?
Sir James: ...Er... Ist that not thine name?
Alchemist Dent: Mine name? Oh.... Aye, ‘tis mine name.
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Told you he liked to argue....
Alchemist Dent: Waiter! Wo ist mein knockwurst und sauerkraut? Und schnell!
Sir James: I hast travelled to seek ye Duke of Strangways, and his clerking wench, hast anyone here any ken of them?
Pleydell-Smith: I did hear that ye Duke enjoyed fishing, in ye boat of a local man named Quarrel.
Alchemist Dent: Quarrel?? Excellent! Where ist this quarrel?
If anyone doesn't like any of the above, just rewrite it or tell me to take it out.
Act 2, Scene 2. Pleydell-Smith takes Sir James to a club.
Pleydell-Smith: Here we art, Sir James, I shall introduce ye to the members here. Take heed, some art a bit eccentric.
Sir James: And what ist ye name of this club?
Pleydell-Smith: ‘Tis “Ye Quiet Arrow & Maiden’s Undergarment.”
(They join a group of men sitting at a table.)
Pleydell-Smith: Greetings, gentlemen. May I introduce Sir James Bond, who hast travelled from Albion to succeed the Duke of Strangways? (Ye gentlemen murmur “Hello”.) Here ist Colonel Chas, from Scotland...
Colonel: Hoots mon, hello! (Eats some haggis, then absent-mindedly produces a guitar from beneath his kilt and begins strumming.)
Sir James: I had expected an Organ, although nothing worn under the kilt ?
Colonel: och away, all's in perfect working order !
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Don’t ask him about ye guitar, ‘twill only encourage him. (Aloud.) Ye next chair ist reserved for Sir Paul, he ist Miles....
Sir James: Miles?
Pleydell-Smith: aye, he t'was know as Sir Kilometres until the battle of Brexit.
...Miles away right now. And from Albion, this be Lord Dangerous.
Lord Dangerous: Charmed. This be mine assistant, from Norway. Twenty-three assistants I hast had, and I can never remember their names, so he ist known as...
Number 24: Be’est thee from England, Sir James?
(There ist a collective gasp, and all look nervously at ye aged Colonel, who hast begun to turn red and ist drawing in breath to speak.)
Sir James: ‘Tis often thought so, but mine father was a Scot and mine mother from Switzerland.
(All relax, relieved.)
Pleydell-Smith: Next is Alchemist Dent, from Deutschland.... oh, but he ist not here. Merely a chair with a beach towel thrown across it. Landlord, where ist Alchemist Dent?
(Ye landlord approaches, a bearded man with suspiciously dark hair wearing a jester’s outfit.)
Landlord: Sure, to be sure gentlemen, I could not say. I shalt ask mine assistant- Virgil! Virgil Tracy!
(A young man dressed as Captain Scarlet approaches.)
Virgil: Aye, landlord? I wast just polishing ye A.R.S.E. and feeding Holly.
Landlord: These gentlemen doth seek Alchemist Dent, know ye where he can be found?
Virgil: Hmm, he was last in ye Memorabilia chamber arguing with another gentleman member over which kind of timepiece wast better.
Landlord: Nothing unusual there then...
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Ye Alchemist doth like to argue... a lot. Ah, here he comes now. (Enter Alchemist Dent, polishing a large timepiece.) Denty-babe, there thou art!
Alchemist Dent: Ye name is DENT!!! X-( X-( X-(
Pleydell-Smith: But of course you are. I prithee, greet Sir James from Albion.
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Greetings? Why do you say “greetings”? And who hath told thee I am Dent?
Sir James: ...Er... Ist that not thine name?
Alchemist Dent: Mine name? Oh.... Aye, ‘tis mine name.
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Told you he liked to argue....
Alchemist Dent: Waiter! Wo ist mein knockwurst und sauerkraut? Und schnell!
Sir James: I hast travelled to seek ye Duke of Strangways, and his clerking wench, hast anyone here any ken of them?
Alchemist Dent: um, that clerking wench was a looked, perhaps the ran away together, on a Cruise ?
Pleydell-Smith: I did hear that ye Duke enjoyed fishing, in ye boat of a local man named Quarrel.
Alchemist Dent: Quarrel?? Excellent! Where ist this quarrel?
Only added a few small "very old jokes" but that is my specialty.
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Sir James: I prithee, Pleydell-Smith, display unto me thine records concerning the Isle of Crabs, and its owner.
Pleydell-Smith: Most surely- Miss Taro, I bid thee gather yon parchments together for Sir James.
Miss Taro: Alack, sir, these parchments cannot be found- I doth fear they were taken away by the Duke of Strangways.
Sir James: No matter, fair maiden- thou shalt dine with me forthwith.
Miss Taro: I should say maybe, Sir James...
(Room for chase sequence, possibly preceded by Miss Taro giving Sir James ridiculously complicated directions to her house.)
Act 2, Scene 7. A boudoir.
Miss Taro: Most belated thou art, Sir James.
Sir James: Alas, mine steed was unwilling.
Miss Taro: Ah, that doth explain...
Sir James: Explain what, I prithee?
Miss Taro: Hinter me I know not what doth transpire.
Sir James: Thine forgiveness I crave, for such a vista I doth admire.
Miss Taro: Dine with me, Sir James, I shall prepare for thee an eastern repast.
Sir James: Nay, lead her to thy cells, constables. Though wary thou must be of the paint upon her nails.
Quite compressed, could be expanded, and of course needs to end with Denty-babe X-( X-( X-( attempting to slay Sir James. We should come up with a good line to finish on to replace "That's a Smith & Wesson and you've had your six" since those hadn't been invented yet...
Could the directions as well as complicated be from songs ?
e.g.
Heading south on the great north road - Sting
Go West - Village people
Running up that Hill - Kate Bush
Up where we belomg - Jennifer Warnes & Joe Cocker
I say pass the dutchie on the left hand side - Musical Youth
24 hours from Tulsa - Gene Pitney
I'm sure there must be thousands more
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Damsel Taro: Most belated thou art, Sir James.
Sir James: Alas, mine steed was unwilling.
Damsel Taro: Ah, that doth explain...
Sir James: Explain what, I prithee?
Damsel Taro: Umm, explain why... thy stallion, ummm... is not....
Sir James: It hath ne'er happened to me before, Damsel Taro, normally one's steed riseth to meet a challenge...
Miss Taro: Perhaps ye Alchemist can prescript for such an ailment, Sir James... some viagra... or a splint...
Sir James: Ye Alchemist? Thou knowest him? Thy plot thickens. Unlike mine stallion.
A pigeon alights in Damsel Taro's cottage. It trills.
Sir James: Art thou not intending to answer that?
Damsel Taro approaches the pigeon and attaches a message to one foot. It departs, no mean feat as the message 'twas chiselled into marble.
Damsel Taro: Dine with me, Sir James, I shall prepare for thee an Eastern repast.
Sir James: Yet I feel Roman and musical. Perhaps thou couldst play a small tune on mine, um, musical organ? It still does not work. Or a laying on of hands?
Damsel Taro: Sir James, my nail paint wouldst chip.
The sound of hooves approaches.
Damsel Taro: That must be thy steed, Sir James, or else thou art passing skilful with thy coconut halves...
Sir James opens the door, and two constables enter.
Damsel Taro: Sir James, if these be thy stable boys and magic they can work on thy stallion, I shalt be happy to chip my nails...
Sir James: Lead her to thy cells, constables. Though wary thou must be of the paint upon her nails. Twill take some time to thicken. Much like my stallion...
Sir James: I prithee, Pleydell-Smith, display unto me thine records concerning ye Isle of Crabs, and its owner.
Pleydell-Smith: Most surely- Damsel Taro, I bid thee gather yon parchments together for Sir James.
Damsel Taro: Alack, sir, these parchments cannot be found- I doth fear they were taken away by ye Duke of Strangways.
Sir James: No matter, fair maiden- thou shalt dine with me forthwith.
Damsel Taro: I should say maybe, Sir James... (Later...)
Damsel Taro: I prithee, Sir James, thou shouldst attend mine lodgings. After heading south on ye great north road, go west. Pass ye cement factory, pass ye bauxite mine, pass ye dutchie from ye left hand side. On a dark desert highway, cool wind in thine hair, up ahead thou shalt see a shimmering light. At Longitude 78 West go up ye junction, then thou willst be up where we belong.
Act II, Scene VII. A boudoir.
Damsel Taro: Most belated thou art, Sir James.
Sir James: Alas, mine steed was unwilling.
Damsel Taro: Ah, that doth explain...
Sir James: Explain what, I prithee?
Damsel Taro: Umm, explain why... thy stallion, ummm... is not....
Sir James: It hath ne'er happened to me before, Damsel Taro, normally one's steed riseth to meet a challenge...
Damsel Taro: Perhaps ye Alchemist can prescript for such an ailment, Sir James... some viagra... or a splint...
Sir James: Ye Alchemist? Thou knowest him? Thy plot thickens. Unlike mine stallion. (A pigeon alights in Damsel Taro's cottage. It trills.)
Sir James: Art thou not intending to answer that? (Damsel Taro approaches ye pigeon and attaches a message to one foot. It departs, no mean feat as ye message 'twas chiselled into marble.)
Damsel Taro: Hinter me I know not what doth transpire.
Sir James: Thine forgiveness I crave, for such a vista I doth admire. (A discreet interval later...)
Damsel Taro: Dost thou always smoke afterwards?
Sir James: This I would not know, I never look.
Damsel Taro: Dine with me, Sir James, I shall prepare for thee an Eastern repast.
Sir James: Yet I feel Roman and musical. Perhaps thou couldst play a small tune on mine, um, musical organ? It still does not work. Or a laying on of hands?
Damsel Taro: Sir James, my nail paint wouldst chip. (The sound of hooves approaches.)
Damsel Taro: That must be thine steed, Sir James, or else thou art passing skillful with thy coconut halves... (Sir James opens ye door, and two constables enter.)
Damsel Taro: Sir James, if these be thy stable boys and magic they can work on thy stallion, I shalt be happy to chip my nails...
Sir James: Lead her to thy cells, constables. Though wary thou must be of the paint upon her nails. 'Twill take some time to thicken. Much like my stallion... (Damsel Taro ist led off by ye constables, which can be quite painful. Sir James sits down to relax in ye bedroom, cleaning his sword. After an hour or two, enter Alchemist Dent, walking silently in his green training shoes, who stabs the pillows in ye bed several times.)
Sir James: Drop thine sword, Alchemist, and hinter thee! (Ye Alchemist drops his sword next to his distasteful footwear.)
Alchemist Dent: Very clever, Sir James.
Sir James: 'Tis amusing, wondering I had been when thou would show up, Denty-bum.
Alchemist Dent: The name ist DEN- (Sir James slays the Alchemist.)
Sir James: But of course it is.
Comments
He meets Alchemist Dent, Pleydell-Smith, etc. (Not strictly necessary but some fun could be had with it)
Act 2, Scene 4. A drinking place.
Lord Felix: Sup with us, Sir James.
Sir James: Stir not mine mead, though let it be shaken.
Damsel Annabel: Thine likeness I doth seek, Sir James.
Sir James: Seize her, Quarrel! Now, thou shalt impart unto me who doth seek mine likeness.
Damsel Annabel: Ne'er shall I tell.
Quarrel: This damsel shalt tell us naught. Her arm shall I break, Sir James?
Sir James: Nay, though mayhap another time.
Damsel Annabel: Thee be rats who shalt be sorry! (Exits.)
Quarrel: The Duke and I did these rocks find on the Isle of Crabs.
Sir James: And who doth own this isle?
Lord Felix: 'Tis the isle of a physician from the Orient.
Sir James: Physician? Nay!
Lord Felix: Funny it is that thou should say that....
(Could be expanded if anyone has ideas)
Perhaps Damsel Annabel could be quickly painting Sir James's likeness onto a large canvas?
Act 2, Scene 4. A drinking place. A band plays "Good Morning Kingston Town".
Lord Felix: Sup with us, Sir James.
Sir James: Stir not mine mead, though let it be shaken.
(Sir James espies a beauteous damsel sitting at an easel, painting furiously on a large canvas.)
Sir James: Hm, methinks I hast seen this wench before- seize her, Quarrel!
(Quickly Quarrel brings ye damsel to their table.)
Sir James: Let me see this painting...
Lord Felix: Not bad! I'll take a copy, and canst thou do one of me, too?
Damsel Annabel: This I have done already, lo!
Lord Felix: Hm, not so sure of that I be...
Sir James: ...er, I'll take that if thou dost not mind.
Damsel Annabel: And in mine spare time, I do still life- see?
Sir James: Hideous! Now, damsel, thou shalt impart unto me who doth seek mine likeness.
Damsel Annabel: Nay, ne'er shall I tell.
Quarrel: This damsel shalt tell us naught. Her arm shall I break, Sir James?
Sir James: Mayhap another time- free her, I prithee.
Damsel Annabel: Thee be rats who shalt be sorry! (Exits.)
Quarrel: The Duke and I did these rocks find on the Isle of Crabs.
Sir James: And who doth own this isle?
Lord Felix: 'Tis the isle of a physician from the Orient.
Sir James: Physician? Nay!
Lord Felix: Funny it is that thou should say that....
BTW: We have an expression "It sells like chopped manure/dung" referring to guano trade
When Sir James visits Pleydell-Smith (still 2 scenes away) he can be told about the guano (scope for puns there!) but doesn't find out about the magnet till Physician Nay tells him near the end.
Next up, Sir James goes to see Dent:
Act 2, Scene 5. An alchemist’s workshop.
Sir James: Lend an eye to these rocks, I prithee, and impart to me their provenance.
Alchemist Dent: Such rocks doth in no way from the Isle of Crabs hail, under no circumstance, most exceedingly not. From any other isle they doth come, yet in truth not from that isle. Not there. Most definitely.
Lord Felix: (Aside) Most surely an inferior alchemist this is, or the worst of liars.
It's very brief. Felix doesn't have to be there, he could say that line later (at the boat with Quarrel). Possibly it could be expanded to include Dent's trip to ye Isle of Crabs, where he is given a spider...? (or maybe not a spider...?) More banter between Dent and Sir James?
Act 2, Scene 5. An alchemist’s workshop.
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Ah... hello Sir James, what canst I do for thee?
Sir James: Lend an eye to these rocks, I prithee, and impart to me their provenance.
Alchemist Dent: These rocks? Naught but common iron they be, from many of ye isles here.
Sir James: I rather fancied they didst come from ye Isle of Crabs.
Alchemist Dent: Such rocks doth in no way from ye Isle of Crabs hail, under no circumstance, most exceedingly not. From any other isle they doth come, yet in truth not from that isle. Not there. Most definitely. No sirree.
Sir James: I see, thank'ee Alchemist Dent. (Exits.)
(Later, at a harbour.)
Captain: Greetings, Alchemist Dent, what doth bring thee here in daylight?
Alchemist Dent: To ye Isle of Crabs thou must take me, apace and forthwith.
Captain: Nay, this cannot be, thou dost know this!
Alchemist Dent: Ye responsibility shalt be mine- make haste!
(Later still, on ye Isle of Crabs.)
....
Sir Miles: Does the term Topol-ing mean anything to you naught,naught seven ?
Sir James; It's dressing up as a beloved actor and singing about being a rich man !
Isn't it ?
Sir Miles: aye, but it also means interfering with the flight path of a cannon ball, The
American colonists have been using a new powerful cannon, but their balls are
Dropping all over the place.
Sir James: oh I believe that's called teabaging sir
Sir Miles: Last one landed in the Caribbean, so you're going to help find out what or
Who is responsible.
Sir James: aye Sir, I'll find out who's been Interfering with their Balls.
[Edit- done!]
Act 2, Scene 5. An alchemist’s workshop.
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Dent? I know of no Dent- who hath told thee that I am Dent?
Sir James: ...er... Ye sign on thine door states thine name, and we did meet yesterday.
Alchemist Dent: Oh, yes... Dent... Hello Sir James, what canst I do for thee?
Sir James: Lend an eye to these rocks, I prithee.
Alchemist Dent: Rocks? What rocks are these thou do speak of? I see no rocks!
Sir James: These rocks here.
Alchemist Dent: Oh, those rocks...
Sir James: I prithee, impart to me their provenance.
Alchemist Dent: Naught but common iron they be, from many of ye isles here.
Sir James: I rather fancied they didst come from ye Isle of Crabs.
Alchemist Dent: Such rocks doth in no way from ye Isle of Crabs hail, under no circumstance, most exceedingly not. From any other isle they doth come, yet in truth not from that isle. Not there. Most definitely. No sirree.
Sir James: I see, thank'ee Alchemist Dent. (Exits.)
(Later, at a harbour.)
Captain: Greetings, Alchemist Dent, what doth bring thee here in daylight?
Alchemist Dent: To ye Isle of Crabs thou must take me, apace and forthwith.
Captain: Nay, this cannot be, thou dost know this!
Alchemist Dent: Ye responsibility shalt be mine- make haste!
(Later still, on ye Isle of Crabs.)
....
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Dent? I know of no Dent- who hath told thee that I am Dent?
Sir James: ...er... Ye sign on thine door states thine name, and we did meet yesterday.
Alchemist Dent: Oh, yes... Dent... Hello Sir James, what canst I do for thee?
Sir James: Lend an eye to my stones, I prithee.
Alchemist Dent: I be'ith not that sort of alchemist, perhaps a Psychian...
Sir James:Nay, these here....
( He doth expose his stones to Dent )
Alchemist Dent: We scientists do call'ith them Rocks !
Sir James: These rocks here.
Alchemist Dent: Oh, those rocks...
Sir James: I prithee, impart to me their provenance.
Alchemist Dent: Naught but common iron they be, from many of ye isles here.
Sir James: Nothing unusual about them ?
Alchemist Dent: Nay, perfectly normal.
( as he speaks , a rock slides across the table to stick to a suit of armour in the corner )
Alchemist Dent: That happens all the time.
Sir James: Moving sideways like that, I rather fancied they didst come from ye Isle of Crabs.
Alchemist Dent: Such rocks doth in no way from ye Isle of Crabs hail, under no circumstance, most exceedingly not. From any other isle they doth come, yet in truth not from that isle. Not there. Most definitely. No sirree.
Sir James: I see, thank'ee Alchemist Dent. (Exits.)
(Later, at a harbour.)
Captain: Greetings, Alchemist Dent, what doth bring thee here in daylight?
Alchemist Dent: To ye Isle of Crabs thou must take me, apace and forthwith.
Captain: Nay, this cannot be, thou dost know this!
Alchemist Dent: Ye responsibility shalt be mine- make haste!
Captain : Very well but first fillout this form, sign here, here and Here. initial here
and here. Have you packed your bags yourself ?......
Alchemist Dent: Yes, and can you stamp my frequent sailings card.
Captain : oh, you're just one away from a free, complementary bag of Guano !
Next bit, Dent is grilled by the Physician and given a spider... or maybe something else?
(Later still, on ye Isle of Crabs, Alchemist Dent ist shown into a strange room.)
Alchemist Dent: ....Hello? (There ist no reply.) Hello?
(From off, we doth hear a toilet flush then ye sound of footsteps.)
Unseen Voice: Sorry about that but when ye got to go, ye got to go. Ah, Denty-baby!
Alchemist Dent: Ye name ist HIGG... er, DENT!!! X-( X-( X-(
Unseen Voice: And thou hast come to my isle in daylight, wherefore hast thou done this?
Alchemist Dent: Today I wast visited by Sir James Bond.
Unseen Voice: I know how he ist, what he ist and what he hast come for- 'twas on ye cards. He willst not succeed.
Alchemist Dent: What wouldst thou have me do?
Unseen Voice: Go to yon table....
Then...
Act 3, Scene 1. Sir James returns to his room.
Steward: Your mead, sir. Shaken as thee said, and not stirred.
Sir James: I thank'ee, my good man.
(Steward exits. Sir James drinks his mead, then doth open his satchel. From within he produces a bottle of strong beverage from ye land of ye Tsars, two bottles of wine, a flask of ouzo and one lemon. Mixing them all together, he doth drink ye lot and fall into bed.)
Sir James: (Drunkenly sings.) Three blind mice, in a row....
(Sir James falls asleep. A few hours later, he doth awake...)
Something stirs in his bed. Sir James twitches and glances down.
Sir James: 'Tis an unfamiliar twitch down there... ist that thee, May?
Silence meets Naught Naught Seven as the creature slowly and inexorably creeps up his leg.
Sir James: May, hast thou a secret thou art keeping from me? Be thou more Brian than May?
With haste, Sir James flings back the coverlet and espies a snake slithering up his body.
Sir James: An asp!
From a corner of his room, a voice mutters: "Dummkopf Asp,"
Sir James springs from the bed and searches for a slipper with which to banish the asp. Reaching beneath his bed, he withdraws a tatty green trainer, before hastily discarding it. The asp sends a venomous glance towards the voice in the corner, and with a hiss, is gone.
Sir James: There ist ne'er a cigar nor shaving foam handy when one needeth one...
Just a thought- we haven't bothered with Act 2, Scene 2- Sir James meets Dent, Pleydell-Smith, etc at a club. It might be fun to have Dent being obsessed with timepieces, ordering bratwurst & sauerkraut, etc... thus setting up the jokes above.
Pleydell-Smith: Here we art, Sir James, I shall introduce ye to the members here. Take heed, some art a bit eccentric.
Sir James: And what ist ye name of this club?
Pleydell-Smith: ‘Tis “Ye Quiet Arrow & Maiden’s Undergarment.”
(They join a group of men sitting at a table.)
Pleydell-Smith: Greetings, gentlemen. May I introduce Sir James Bond, who hast travelled from Albion to succeed the Duke of Strangways? (Ye gentlemen murmur “Hello”.) Here ist Colonel Chas, from Scotland...
Colonel: Hoots mon, hello! (Eats some haggis, then absent-mindedly produces a guitar from beneath his kilt and begins strumming.)
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Don’t ask him about ye guitar, ‘twill only encourage him. (Aloud.) Ye next chair ist reserved for Sir Paul, he ist Miles....
Sir James: Miles?
Pleydell-Smith: ...Miles away right now. And from Albion, this be Lord Dangerous.
Lord Dangerous: Charmed. This be mine assistant, from Norway. Twenty-three assistants I hast had, and I can never remember their names, so he ist known as...
Number 24: Be’est thee from England, Sir James?
(There ist a collective gasp, and all look nervously at ye aged Colonel, who hast begun to turn red and ist drawing in breath to speak.)
Sir James: ‘Tis often thought so, but mine father was a Scot and mine mother from Switzerland.
(All relax, relieved.)
Pleydell-Smith: Next is Alchemist Dent, from Deutschland.... oh, but he ist not here. Merely a chair with a beach towel thrown across it. Landlord, where ist Alchemist Dent?
(Ye landlord approaches, a bearded man with suspiciously dark hair wearing a jester’s outfit.)
Landlord: Sure, to be sure gentlemen, I could not say. I shalt ask mine assistant- Virgil! Virgil Tracy!
(A young man dressed as Captain Scarlet approaches.)
Virgil: Aye, landlord? I wast just polishing ye A.R.S.E. and feeding Holly.
Landlord: These gentlemen doth seek Alchemist Dent, know ye where he can be found?
Virgil: Hmm, he was last in ye Memorabilia chamber arguing with another gentleman member over which kind of timepiece wast better.
Landlord: Nothing unusual there then...
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Ye Alchemist doth like to argue... a lot. Ah, here he comes now. (Enter Alchemist Dent, polishing a large timepiece.) Denty-babe, there thou art!
Alchemist Dent: Ye name is DENT!!! X-( X-( X-(
Pleydell-Smith: But of course you are. I prithee, greet Sir James from Albion.
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Greetings? Why do you say “greetings”? And who hath told thee I am Dent?
Sir James: ...Er... Ist that not thine name?
Alchemist Dent: Mine name? Oh.... Aye, ‘tis mine name.
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Told you he liked to argue....
Alchemist Dent: Waiter! Wo ist mein knockwurst und sauerkraut? Und schnell!
Sir James: I hast travelled to seek ye Duke of Strangways, and his clerking wench, hast anyone here any ken of them?
Pleydell-Smith: I did hear that ye Duke enjoyed fishing, in ye boat of a local man named Quarrel.
Alchemist Dent: Quarrel?? Excellent! Where ist this quarrel?
If anyone doesn't like any of the above, just rewrite it or tell me to take it out.
Pleydell-Smith: Here we art, Sir James, I shall introduce ye to the members here. Take heed, some art a bit eccentric.
Sir James: And what ist ye name of this club?
Pleydell-Smith: ‘Tis “Ye Quiet Arrow & Maiden’s Undergarment.”
(They join a group of men sitting at a table.)
Pleydell-Smith: Greetings, gentlemen. May I introduce Sir James Bond, who hast travelled from Albion to succeed the Duke of Strangways? (Ye gentlemen murmur “Hello”.) Here ist Colonel Chas, from Scotland...
Colonel: Hoots mon, hello! (Eats some haggis, then absent-mindedly produces a guitar from beneath his kilt and begins strumming.)
Sir James: I had expected an Organ, although nothing worn under the kilt ?
Colonel: och away, all's in perfect working order !
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Don’t ask him about ye guitar, ‘twill only encourage him. (Aloud.) Ye next chair ist reserved for Sir Paul, he ist Miles....
Sir James: Miles?
Pleydell-Smith: aye, he t'was know as Sir Kilometres until the battle of Brexit.
...Miles away right now. And from Albion, this be Lord Dangerous.
Lord Dangerous: Charmed. This be mine assistant, from Norway. Twenty-three assistants I hast had, and I can never remember their names, so he ist known as...
Number 24: Be’est thee from England, Sir James?
(There ist a collective gasp, and all look nervously at ye aged Colonel, who hast begun to turn red and ist drawing in breath to speak.)
Sir James: ‘Tis often thought so, but mine father was a Scot and mine mother from Switzerland.
(All relax, relieved.)
Pleydell-Smith: Next is Alchemist Dent, from Deutschland.... oh, but he ist not here. Merely a chair with a beach towel thrown across it. Landlord, where ist Alchemist Dent?
(Ye landlord approaches, a bearded man with suspiciously dark hair wearing a jester’s outfit.)
Landlord: Sure, to be sure gentlemen, I could not say. I shalt ask mine assistant- Virgil! Virgil Tracy!
(A young man dressed as Captain Scarlet approaches.)
Virgil: Aye, landlord? I wast just polishing ye A.R.S.E. and feeding Holly.
Landlord: These gentlemen doth seek Alchemist Dent, know ye where he can be found?
Virgil: Hmm, he was last in ye Memorabilia chamber arguing with another gentleman member over which kind of timepiece wast better.
Landlord: Nothing unusual there then...
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Ye Alchemist doth like to argue... a lot. Ah, here he comes now. (Enter Alchemist Dent, polishing a large timepiece.) Denty-babe, there thou art!
Alchemist Dent: Ye name is DENT!!! X-( X-( X-(
Pleydell-Smith: But of course you are. I prithee, greet Sir James from Albion.
Sir James: Greetings, Alchemist Dent.
Alchemist Dent: Greetings? Why do you say “greetings”? And who hath told thee I am Dent?
Sir James: ...Er... Ist that not thine name?
Alchemist Dent: Mine name? Oh.... Aye, ‘tis mine name.
Pleydell-Smith: (Aside.) Told you he liked to argue....
Alchemist Dent: Waiter! Wo ist mein knockwurst und sauerkraut? Und schnell!
Sir James: I hast travelled to seek ye Duke of Strangways, and his clerking wench, hast anyone here any ken of them?
Alchemist Dent: um, that clerking wench was a looked, perhaps the ran away together, on a Cruise ?
Pleydell-Smith: I did hear that ye Duke enjoyed fishing, in ye boat of a local man named Quarrel.
Alchemist Dent: Quarrel?? Excellent! Where ist this quarrel?
Only added a few small "very old jokes" but that is my specialty.
Act 2, Scene 6. A place of business.
Sir James: I prithee, Pleydell-Smith, display unto me thine records concerning the Isle of Crabs, and its owner.
Pleydell-Smith: Most surely- Miss Taro, I bid thee gather yon parchments together for Sir James.
Miss Taro: Alack, sir, these parchments cannot be found- I doth fear they were taken away by the Duke of Strangways.
Sir James: No matter, fair maiden- thou shalt dine with me forthwith.
Miss Taro: I should say maybe, Sir James...
(Room for chase sequence, possibly preceded by Miss Taro giving Sir James ridiculously complicated directions to her house.)
Act 2, Scene 7. A boudoir.
Miss Taro: Most belated thou art, Sir James.
Sir James: Alas, mine steed was unwilling.
Miss Taro: Ah, that doth explain...
Sir James: Explain what, I prithee?
Miss Taro: Hinter me I know not what doth transpire.
Sir James: Thine forgiveness I crave, for such a vista I doth admire.
Miss Taro: Dine with me, Sir James, I shall prepare for thee an eastern repast.
Sir James: Nay, lead her to thy cells, constables. Though wary thou must be of the paint upon her nails.
Quite compressed, could be expanded, and of course needs to end with Denty-babe X-( X-( X-( attempting to slay Sir James. We should come up with a good line to finish on to replace "That's a Smith & Wesson and you've had your six" since those hadn't been invented yet...
e.g.
Heading south on the great north road - Sting
Go West - Village people
Running up that Hill - Kate Bush
Up where we belomg - Jennifer Warnes & Joe Cocker
I say pass the dutchie on the left hand side - Musical Youth
24 hours from Tulsa - Gene Pitney
I'm sure there must be thousands more
Act II, Scene VII. A boudoir.
Damsel Taro: Most belated thou art, Sir James.
Sir James: Alas, mine steed was unwilling.
Damsel Taro: Ah, that doth explain...
Sir James: Explain what, I prithee?
Damsel Taro: Umm, explain why... thy stallion, ummm... is not....
Sir James: It hath ne'er happened to me before, Damsel Taro, normally one's steed riseth to meet a challenge...
Miss Taro: Perhaps ye Alchemist can prescript for such an ailment, Sir James... some viagra... or a splint...
Sir James: Ye Alchemist? Thou knowest him? Thy plot thickens. Unlike mine stallion.
A pigeon alights in Damsel Taro's cottage. It trills.
Sir James: Art thou not intending to answer that?
Damsel Taro approaches the pigeon and attaches a message to one foot. It departs, no mean feat as the message 'twas chiselled into marble.
Damsel Taro: Dine with me, Sir James, I shall prepare for thee an Eastern repast.
Sir James: Yet I feel Roman and musical. Perhaps thou couldst play a small tune on mine, um, musical organ? It still does not work. Or a laying on of hands?
Damsel Taro: Sir James, my nail paint wouldst chip.
The sound of hooves approaches.
Damsel Taro: That must be thy steed, Sir James, or else thou art passing skilful with thy coconut halves...
Sir James opens the door, and two constables enter.
Damsel Taro: Sir James, if these be thy stable boys and magic they can work on thy stallion, I shalt be happy to chip my nails...
Sir James: Lead her to thy cells, constables. Though wary thou must be of the paint upon her nails. Twill take some time to thicken. Much like my stallion...
Act 2, Scene 6. A place of business.
Sir James: I prithee, Pleydell-Smith, display unto me thine records concerning ye Isle of Crabs, and its owner.
Pleydell-Smith: Most surely- Damsel Taro, I bid thee gather yon parchments together for Sir James.
Damsel Taro: Alack, sir, these parchments cannot be found- I doth fear they were taken away by ye Duke of Strangways.
Sir James: No matter, fair maiden- thou shalt dine with me forthwith.
Damsel Taro: I should say maybe, Sir James...
(Later...)
Damsel Taro: I prithee, Sir James, thou shouldst attend mine lodgings. After heading south on ye great north road, go west. Pass ye cement factory, pass ye bauxite mine, pass ye dutchie from ye left hand side. On a dark desert highway, cool wind in thine hair, up ahead thou shalt see a shimmering light. At Longitude 78 West go up ye junction, then thou willst be up where we belong.
Act II, Scene VII. A boudoir.
Damsel Taro: Most belated thou art, Sir James.
Sir James: Alas, mine steed was unwilling.
Damsel Taro: Ah, that doth explain...
Sir James: Explain what, I prithee?
Damsel Taro: Umm, explain why... thy stallion, ummm... is not....
Sir James: It hath ne'er happened to me before, Damsel Taro, normally one's steed riseth to meet a challenge...
Damsel Taro: Perhaps ye Alchemist can prescript for such an ailment, Sir James... some viagra... or a splint...
Sir James: Ye Alchemist? Thou knowest him? Thy plot thickens. Unlike mine stallion.
(A pigeon alights in Damsel Taro's cottage. It trills.)
Sir James: Art thou not intending to answer that?
(Damsel Taro approaches ye pigeon and attaches a message to one foot. It departs, no mean feat as ye message 'twas chiselled into marble.)
Damsel Taro: Hinter me I know not what doth transpire.
Sir James: Thine forgiveness I crave, for such a vista I doth admire.
(A discreet interval later...)
Damsel Taro: Dost thou always smoke afterwards?
Sir James: This I would not know, I never look.
Damsel Taro: Dine with me, Sir James, I shall prepare for thee an Eastern repast.
Sir James: Yet I feel Roman and musical. Perhaps thou couldst play a small tune on mine, um, musical organ? It still does not work. Or a laying on of hands?
Damsel Taro: Sir James, my nail paint wouldst chip.
(The sound of hooves approaches.)
Damsel Taro: That must be thine steed, Sir James, or else thou art passing skillful with thy coconut halves...
(Sir James opens ye door, and two constables enter.)
Damsel Taro: Sir James, if these be thy stable boys and magic they can work on thy stallion, I shalt be happy to chip my nails...
Sir James: Lead her to thy cells, constables. Though wary thou must be of the paint upon her nails. 'Twill take some time to thicken. Much like my stallion...
(Damsel Taro ist led off by ye constables, which can be quite painful. Sir James sits down to relax in ye bedroom, cleaning his sword. After an hour or two, enter Alchemist Dent, walking silently in his green training shoes, who stabs the pillows in ye bed several times.)
Sir James: Drop thine sword, Alchemist, and hinter thee!
(Ye Alchemist drops his sword next to his distasteful footwear.)
Alchemist Dent: Very clever, Sir James.
Sir James: 'Tis amusing, wondering I had been when thou would show up, Denty-bum.
Alchemist Dent: The name ist DEN-
(Sir James slays the Alchemist.)
Sir James: But of course it is.