My Fair Lady |
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| Act:3 Scene:3 | Baloo Higgins' Study | |
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Baloo Higgins is sitting at his desk.
In his hand is an anonymous note which says:
'I told you not to let that sheep stray'.
The words are made up of letters cut out of the Times
and stuck down with glue. Unusually, for an anonymous note,
it is signed, also using letters from the Times: 'Bo Peep!'
(including the exclamation mark)
Colonel Pickering is in an intensely emotional state. The sudden loss of the little sheep combined with six months of free brandy have reduced him to a sorrowful figure. Slumped down into his customary comfy chair he tearfully studies the bottom of his empty glass.
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| Col. Pickering: | Poor, poor Flosshie! | |
| Baloo: | Dammit, where is that sheep! | |
| Col. Pickering: | That poor, poor defenshlesh sheep! What can we do Higginsh? We are reshponshible for that sheep. I couldn't bear it if it wash to come to harm. | |
| Baloo: | Come now, Pickering, pull yourself together, man! | |
| Col. Pickering: | (mumbling quietly to himself) Poor, poor Flosshie! | |
| Baloo: | I shall call the Police! | |
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Baloo Higgins picks up the phone.
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| Baloo: |
Hello. Uh, Scotland Yard, please. I want to report a missing sheep. Name? - Flossie. How old? - Ummm. . . I don't know. The sheep lives here. I paid good money for it. Ten pounds Yes. . . . from a shepherdess. . . . What am I doing with a sheep? Well, that's my own business, isn't it? If you must know, I am teaching it to speak proper. . . . I think that's a most unhelpful suggestion. Colonel Pickering, here is a most respected military gentleman. And I am a most respectable bear. . . . Yes, a bear. I've lost a sheep. . . . We both miss it very much, and we'd like it back . . . There's no need to take that tone with me, young man. | |
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Baloo slams the phone down.
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| Baloo: | Dash it! And to think we pay taxes for that kind of service! | |
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Mrs Brown comes into the room. In her hand she holds a telegram.
Tears are rolling down the good womans face.
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| Mrs Brown: | Sir, it's Flossie. Paul Pixie and Flossie are to be married . . . by the Archbishop of Canterbury . . . in Westminster Cathedral. | |
| Baloo: | Hmmm . . . Paul Pixie, eh? I always thought he was a strange young man. I would have expected something better of Flossie, though. Oh well . . . sheep will be sheep, and I imagine strange young men will be strange young men. | |
| Col. Pickering: | Poor Flosshiee! That poor sheep musht be shaved from a fate worsh than mutton. Shomething must be done, Higginsh! | |
| Baloo: |
I suppose you're right, Pickering. I'll call for a taxi.
(picks up phone receiver) Why can't they make phones more bear friendly.
How are you meant to dial numbers with paws?
Hello . . . Hello . . . Can you send a cab, please? . . . 27A Wimpole Street. It's a matter of urgency. . . . We have to stop the Archbishop of Canterbury from marrying a sheep. . . . Yes, a sheep. . . . Hello? (replaces phone receiver with look of puzzlement) Do you think there might be something wrong with this phone, Pickering? (Baloo looks at his watch.) Dash It! We'll never make it now. | |
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Colonel Pickering, stirred by the hopelessness of the situation,
tries to rise without properly warning his legs and collapses
pitifully onto the rug, where he lies sobbing uncontrollably.
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| Col. Pickering: | Floshhhiee! | |
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Flossie's Web Pages
