disabled1975

Dead Collector:
Bring out yer dead!

[A large man appears with a (seemingly) dead man over his shoulder]

Large Man:
Here's one.

Dead Collector:
Nine pence.

"Dead" Man:
I'm not dead.

Dead Collector:
What?

Large Man:
Nothing. [hands the collector his money] Here's your nine pence.

"Dead" Man:
I'm not dead!

Dead Collector:
'Ere, he says he's not dead.

Large Man:
Yes he is.

"Dead" Man:
I'm not.

Dead Collector:
He isn't.

Large Man:
Well, he will be soon, he's very ill.

"Dead" Man:
I'm getting better.

Large Man:
No you're not, you'll be stone dead in a moment.

Dead Collector:
Well, I can't take him like that. It's against regulations.

"Dead" Man:
I don't want to go on the cart.

Large Man:
' Oh, don't be such a baby.

Dead Collector:
I can't take him.

"Dead" Man:
I feel fine.

Large Man:
Oh, do me a favor.

Dead Collector:
I can't.

Large Man:
Well, can you hang around for a couple of minutes? He won't be long.

Dead Collector:
I promised I'd be at the Robinsons'. They've lost nine today.

Large Man:
Well, when's your next round?

Dead Collector:
Thursday.

"Dead" Man:
I think I'll go for a walk.

Large Man:
You're not fooling anyone, you know. Isn't there anything you could do?

"Dead" Man:
I feel happy. I feel happy.

[The collector paces for an idea, then whacks the body with his club, solving the problem]

Large Man:
Ah, thank you very much.

Dead Collector:
Not at all. See you on Thursday.

Large Man:
Right.