In this sketch, from the Songs for Swinging Sellers album, Peter Sellers is for once the supporting player, as Irene Handl is in the spotlight. I think she was largely responsible for the writing (and probably some ad libbing, too). She plays a lady whose accent slides about between her notion of 'posh' and Estuary speech, sunbathing in the park. Sellers is a Frenchman, with a much less extreme accent than he later gave Clouseau, feeding the birds.

Music: Short pastorale introduction

FX: Birdsong (continues under, throughout)

She:

Hullo (she chuckles) I've bin watchin' you, I say I've been watching you feeding the birds.

He:

Oh yes?

She:

I think you're marvellous. Aren' they sweet?

He:

(inaudible)

She:

I don't know how anyone can be cruel to dumb animals, do you? I think it's dreadful, because they can't speak. Excuse this somewhat crude attire, won't you? I was catching up in my sun-bathing — hasn't it been gorgeous?

He:

Beautiful weather we've been having…

She:

Yeah — 'course I'd tan a lot faster in a bikini, you know! (They laugh) But where's the use of frightening everybody to death?

He:

My goodness! You would not frighten me! Because when I saw you first, I said to myself 'My goodness, what a beautiful woman, I would so very much like to know such a woman of beauty…'

She:

Oh, now I call that truly gallant. Shall I get up and take a bow? (laughs)

He:

Goodness me, take one by all means…

She:

You come here often, do you?

He:

Well I come here quite often, as I said, to feed these birds…

She:

Yes…

He:

…I like the open air…

She:

Well, it's very nice, isn't it, I mean it's private without being insulated if you know what I mean. I can see you're like me — I will not go into a public park and mingle with the hoi polloi.

He:

I quite agree — I like to keep myself to myself…

She:

Ooh, aren't there some shockin' people about, I mean, even here. Well there's one woman at our hotel, well she's more of a person, really… she fascinates me! (laughs)

He:

(inaudible)

She:

Anythink in trousers she graviates to.

He:

Really…

She:

I think 'you scum!' how pruerile can you get — and then they wonder, you know, that they end up as Exhibit A…

He:

(getting down to it) I'm so lonely, you know, that I want to have conversation with you, or someone…

She:

Ah, well, you've only yourself to blame you know, 'cause I can never resist a true gentleman. By Jove are they hard to come by nowadays. I should know — I was married straight out of the school-room, you know, to the most perfect gentleman that ever trod the earth. I can see him now, on our wedding day, the tears was rolling down his cheeks, he was so cronscious of his trust. He'd promised Pops and Mamma — of course they thought the world of me, you know — he promised Pops and Mamma that I should never want, and by Jove I never did. He gave me a most… smashin' home in Avalon Avenue. Do you know Dalston at all?

He:

Er no, no, I don't…

She:

Ah, well they call it the Frinton of East 8, that'll give you some idea. Everythink a woman's heart could yearn for.

He:

He has obvious made you very well, er, off — I like that…

She:

Well, yes he did; mind you I've got the ample means to buy a splendid home any time I wish. It was Tufnell's one prayer to leave me comfortably off. They do me very well, you know, at my hotel — do you know the Royalton at all? It's very, very select, and the manager — he's a charming chappie, Bill Oakshot, you know… ex-Naval type, and the staff are charming too. I'm afraid they spoil me thoroughly, you know — they give me a huge double room on the first floor with a private bath attached. Well, it's equally as good as private because all the others at the Royalton are business types, you know, they're almost always gone before yours truly has even opened her eyes!

He:

Oh (laughs)

She:

I'm afraid I'm a bit of a naughty girl like that — I like to lay in my beddy-bye, dreaming my dreams.

He:

(tentatively) I wish that I… could share your dreams with you…

She:

Now that I did not hear. That I have decided completely to ignore — you're not nice to know, you know! (laughing)

He:

I (inaudible) enthusiasm to have your friendship and receive great pleasure from knowing you that I said a stupid thing like that. Forgive me.

She:

Oh!

He:

…very sorry.

She:

Oh well, you're forgiven — I was just going to ask you back to din-dins with me. They keep a smashing table at the Royalton, you know. We nearly always have a second vegetable and always croutons with the soup, and if you ever feel like havin' half a bottle of Beaujolais, they practically fall over themselves bringit (sic) it in for you. I always say, as long as there's enough to see me out, what happens afterwards is san-fairy-ann.

He:

Oh, you speak French.

She:

(she doesn't) Une petty peu.

He:

But you have got a very fine accent you know.

She:

Oh, you'n your blue eyes.

He:

No, no, no, I mean it. You can say this, with me: Say it with me, we will speak French together. Are you ready?

She:

Yes…

He:

Voulez-vous

She:

Voulay voo

He:

Coucher avec moi ce soir?

She:

(gasps) Ooh! Ooh, you rotten egg! (they laugh) I'll set Bill Oakshott onto you!

He:

Ah, you know what it means? You know what it means — you are a woman of the world!

She:

Oh come on, let's go to my hotel and have a talk.

He:

I like to come and stand closer to you…

She:

What are you doin'?

He:

Oh, nothing. I don't even know your name, you know?

She:

Well. Shall I tell you a very private name that Tufnell kept for me?

He:

Please, tell me…

She:

He used to call me 'Squidgy'. (they laugh)

He:

Really?

She:

Don't you think that's sweet?

He:

It's beautiful for you, it fits you most perfectly.

She:

D'you like this shade of blue?

He:

Yes, er, what is, what is it?

She:

It's called 'Blue Toast'. Tufnell used to go crackers about me in anything blue. He used to say 'Squidgy buy herself a blue nightie? Make her eyes look like stars?'

He:

Ah! That is just so beautiful…

She:

I believe you're jealous! (girlish giggle)

He:

(laughing) Now come along…

She:

What are you doing?

He:

I'm… nothing, I'm just helping you fold your deckchair up…

She:

Well pick my bag up then…

He:

All right. Come, let us go to your hotel…

She:

(moving away) I don't belong to you yet, you know!

They chatter as they go, and the pastorale music plays…