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Archive for January 22nd, 2019

SCENE.—A street along the hub of the commercial centre of London, closed off space by the Met police more in the vicinity of the Harrods. Lights pick out the line- Scene of crime-Do Not Enter. A posse of police men are at work and a constable officiously noting their findings while another is on his phone reporting to his superiors. To the right there is a kiosk with posters of Salome and the man on the moon a caricature of the author himself. There are stray stragglers who have nothing in their mind but to gawk. And an old cistern surrounded by a wall of green bronze. Moonlight.

One in shadows between munching a sandwich to a passerby
“You are lucky, the blast nearly shattered the Harrods.

The man stops and says, “You are lucky yourself there.’ And strides off
The man with the sandwich wiping his hand, mutters “Yes luck enough to finish my salami”.
Another one who comes along. The man who had a sandwich recognizes him to say,”Lucky dog! You got back in one piece!Bozo”
They hug with friendly affection, “You ought to be at home and not walk among dead things.”
The first man: I saw the Syrian and (pointing to the cistern) he came from there.
The second,”Lucky you did not try nicking him. Suppose your light fingers pulled the belt instead?”
The first man jerks violently. “My head is all scrambled and I see none but Salomé before me.”
Bozo hurriedly walks off and the man left alone:

THE YOUNG SYRIAN
How beautiful is the Princess Salomé to-night!

(A Pause)

Look at the moon! How strange the moon seems! She is like a woman rising from a tomb. She is like a dead woman. You would fancy she was looking for dead things.

A Police man suddenly comes towards him

THE LAW
Hey There! Keep your hand out.
(The policeman suspiciously approaches him and frisks him.

OK Beat it!

THE YOUNG SYRIAN

I know who you are. The page of Herodias.

THE LAW (nervously)
Sleep it off. (exit)

THE YOUNG SYRIAN

She has a strange look. She is like a little princess who wears a yellow veil, and whose feet are of silver. She is like a princess who has little white doves for feet. You would fancy she was dancing….

THE AUTHOR
Is it because of salami sandwich or the suicide bomber is not for me to explain. But London is not what she was once. (Brexit)
Benny

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