[George has been mistaken for a teen model]
Simon: We'd like you to give us your opinion on some clothes for teenagers.
George: Oh, by all means. I'd be quite prepared for that eventuality.
Simon: Well, not your REAL opinion, obviously. It'll be written out for you. Can you read?
George: Of course.
Simon: I mean lines, ducky, can you handle lines?
George: Well, I'll have a bash.
Simon: Good. [aside] Get him whatever it is they drink, uh, coke-a-rama? [gives George some shirts] Now you'll like these. You'll really "dig" them. They're "fab," and all the other pimply hyperboles...
George: I wouldn't be seen dead in them. They're dead grotty.
George: Yeah, grotesque.
Simon: [aside] Make a note of that word and give it to Susan. It's quite touching, really. Here's this kid, giving me his utterly valueless opinion, when I now for a fact that within a month he'll be suffering from a violent inferiority complex and loss of status because he isn't wearing one of these nasty things! Of course they're grotty you wretched nit, that's why they were designed! But that's what you'll want.
George: No, I won't.
Simon: You can be replaced, chickie baby.
George: I don't care.
Simon: If you don't cooperate you won't get to meet Susan.
George: And who's this Susan when she's at home?
Simon: [proudly] Only Susan Canby, our resident teenager.
George: Oh! You mean that posh bird who gets everything wrong?
Simon: Excuse me?
George: Oh, yeah. The lads frequently sit around the telly and watch her for a giggle. One time we actually sat down and wrote these letters saying how gear she was in all that rubbish.
Simon: She's a trendsetter. It's her profession.
George: She's a drag. A well known drag. We turn the sound down on her and say rude things.
Simon: Get him out of here! He's knocking the program's image!
George: Have I said something amiss?
Simon: Get him out!
George: Sorry about the shirts!
(Regent Theater Arlington)