The Grass Is Greener1960

Trevor Sellers, the Butler:
I wonder if I might have a word with you Mylord.

Victor Rhyall, Earl:
So do I, so we're both probably right. Now what's the matter, Sellers?

Trevor Sellers, the Butler:
As I told you Mylord, I haven't any work to do.

Victor Rhyall, Earl:
What about your novel, why aren't you working at that?

Trevor Sellers, the Butler:
I'm stuck badly. Nearly tore the whole thing up last night.

Victor Rhyall, Earl:
Oh now now, you mustn't do that! What's the trouble?

Trevor Sellers, the Butler:
Almost certainly the basic trouble is myself. I'm fundamentally happy and contented. That's bad enough of course. But on top of that, I'm normal. And that's fatal.

Victor Rhyall, Earl:
Oh. You mean you prefer to be unhappy and abnormal.

Trevor Sellers, the Butler:
Of course! You see, I want to be a success, and to be a success, one must at least start off by being modern. And like yourself Mylord, I'm not. It means I have no feeling of insecurity or frustration. No despair.

Victor Rhyall, Earl:
And that's essential?

Trevor Sellers, the Butler:
The first essential! I feel perfectly contented, really rather blameless and hardly resent anything at all!

Victor Rhyall, Earl:
Well, you are in a pickle, aren't you? Well now, you must have known all that when you gave up teaching to become a writer! You answered my advertisement for a butler, and when I asked you what your qualifications were you said you had a degree in science. Now in spite of such a ludicrous recommendation I engaged you, partly because you told me you wanted to write a novel. Luckily you turned out very well. Now why don't you go back to your typewriter and take another crack at this, Sellers, might do you good. You might feel better now!