Man with Quill: This quill pen sucks. My writing’s all scratchy and my swan, Rod Steiger, has a bald bum because I’ve pulled out all his feathers.
Petrache Poenaru: I’m Petrache Poenaru and I’ve just patented this device that I am going to be calling a fountain pen. Have a bang with one of these.
Man with Quill: Sorted.
Man now with fountain pen: This fountain pen is aces. I’ve been promoted and ladies want to do sex with me.
Lady: Nice handwriting. Can I do sex with you?
Man with pen: Oh Boy! You bet!
Man with big hat: I am the Duke of Earl and the King wants to see you. Bring your wonderful pen.
Man with pen: Wow! Great!. I’ll put my pen in the front pocket of my best white shirt and I’ll look really cool in front of his Maj.
Man with pen: Pleased to meet you King. Big fan and all that.
King: I am mortally offended because there’s a great big wet patch of blue ink spreading across your chest. I, as King have blue blood and this terrible faux pas has reminded me of my innate mortality and shaken my faith in being a direct descendant of Charlemagne and hence of God Himself. Take this man outside and have him pierced to death with the scratchy nibs of a thousand quills pulled from the ass of his newly plumaged swan Rod Steiger.
Man with pen: Nooooo!