ROSCOE is putting up bunting in the living room, MARLON is looking moody on the easy chair.
ROSCOE: (taking a drag on his corncob pipe) Y’know there, you’re lookin’ kinda blue to me.
MARLON: It’s none o’ yer business. (pause) Hell, yer just an ole SQUARE, you wouldn’ understan!
ROSCOE: Heh heh heh, y’know I member when I was a disillusioned street tough like yerself. I’d be out all hours of the day, glaring at officious building and telling stray cats to “bugger off”.
ROSCOE: You scoff, but y’know things ain’t changed that much since I were a lad. 'Cept the hoverboards, course.
THERESA MAY flies in
THERESA MAY: There’s no need to be sad, Marlon. Your malaise can be solved with these wholesome products!
MARLON: Listen lady, materialism ain’t mar bag dawg
THERESA MAY: But what’s this! My bag of myths! British myths! Capitalist myths! All is well, because we’re the best and everything is possible to everyone social mobility is just about technically conceivable as a possible providing certain narrow parameters are met
MARLON: Wow the future is fine
ROSCOE: So whaddaya think now, ole Marlon ole pal?
MARLON: I sure was a shit-for-brains wanker bastard yak’s anus of an idiot to ever have doubted the GENERAL FINENESS of the contexts surrounding my existence and the culture and whatnot
THERESA MAY: Until next time…
EVERYONE: Keep calm and carry on!