Deal or No Deal
I see him walking on like Mr Bridger from the Italian Job, doing
that funny little Queen Mother wave: “Too kind, too fearfully kind. You’re mocking me with kindness. Please, please, no more. Madam,” he would say, "you are Deirdre. Deirdre – how charming. Now I see you in the light, I realise you couldn’t be anything other than a Deirdre – a name you have utterly, utterly made your own. I forbid anyone else ever to be called Deirdre.
“Now, Deirdre - Dear, dear Deirdre – promise me, whatever pitiful little nest egg you take away from this farrago, you won’t do a thing with your hair. You will promise me, Deirdre, won’t you? You will leave it just the way it is. It’s so blissfully, blissfully you.“Now, Deirdre, which numbered box do you wish to broach? Sixteen? The common little man with the appalling necktie? You think he’s hiding a fortune, Deirdre? He’s certainly ugly enough. I have always found wealth to be nature’s consolation for Medusan hideosity. Well, common little man, reveal the contents of your cartouche. Oh, Deirdre, the wretched little man has purloined your dreams. If that’s the damnable banker again, tell him I’m entertaining and unavailable. The impertinence of tradesmen.”
