Mr Praline walks into the shop carrying a dead net.goth in a cage which has a
chain attached to it's neck collar. He walks to the counter where the
shopkeeper tries to hide below the cash register
Praline (John) Hello, I wish to register a complaint ... Hello? Miss?
Shopkeeper (Michael) What do you mean, miss?
Praline: Oh, I'm sorry, I have a skirt. I wish to make a complaint.
Shopkeeper: Sorry we're closing for lunch.
Praline: Never mind that my lad, I wish to complain about this net.goth what I
purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Shopkeeper: Oh yes, the Dreadlock Blue. What's wrong with it?
Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it. It's dead, that's what's wrong with it
Shopkeeper: No, no it's tripping, look!
Praline: Look my lad, I know a dead net.goth when I see one and I'm looking
at one right now.
Shopkeeper: No, no sir, it's not dead. It's tripping.
Shopkeeper: Yeah, remarkable goth the Dreadlock Blue, beautiful make-up, innit?
Praline: The make-up don't enter into it - it's stone dead.
Shopkeeper: No, no - it's just tripping.
Praline: All right then, if it's tripping I'll bring it down. (shouts at net.goth)
Hello net.goth! I've got a nice E tab for you when you come down, net.goth!
Shopkeeper: (pulling neck chain) There it moved.
Praline: No he didn't. That was you pulling the chain.
Shopkeeper: I did not.
Praline: Yes, you did. (takes net.goth out of cage, shouts) Hello net.goth,
net.goth (bangs it against counter) net.goth, come down. Net.goth. (throws it
in the air and lets it fall to the floor) Now that's what I call a dead net.goth.
Shopkeeper: No, no it's stunned.
Praline: Look my lad, I've had just about enough of this. That net.goth is
definitely deceased. And when I bought it not half an hour ago, you assured
me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out
after a long dark poetry recitation.
Shopkeeper: It's probably pining for the Slimelight.
Praline: Pining for the Slimelight, what kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall
flat on its back the moment I got it home?
Shopkeeper: The Dreadlock Blue prefers kipping on its back. Beautiful goth,
Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that net.goth, and I discovered
that the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was
that it had been nailed there.
Shopkeeper: Well of course it was nailed there. Otherwise it would muscle up
to those bars and voom.
Praline: Look matey (picks up net.goth) this net.goth wouldn't voom if I put
four thousand grams of speed in it. It's bleeding demised.
Shopkeeper: It's not, it's pining.
Praline: It's not pining, it's passed on. This net.goth is no more. It has ceased
to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late net.goth. It's a
stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would
be pushing up the daisies. It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir
invisible. This is an ex-net.goth.
Shopkeeper: Well, I'd better replace it then.
Praline: (to camera) If you want anything done in this country you've got to
complain till you're blue in the mouth.
Shopkeeper: Sorry guv, we're right out of net.goths.
Praline: I see. I see. I get the picture.
Shopkeeper: I've got an Industrial.
Praline: Does it talk?
Shopkeeper: Not really, no.
Praline: Well, it's scarcely a replacement, then is it?
Shopkeeper: Look, I didn't want to be a Shopkeeper. I wanted to be a lumberjack.
Praline: Er, excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it?
Colonel: Right stop that, its silly!