A Cup of Sugar

A perfectly nice, ordinary fellow has just moved in to a posh terrace house &, having run out of sugar, goes to knock on the door of his Neighbour to borrow some. Unfortunately he does not realise that his Neighbour is suffering from the delusion that he is a sort of 19th century Dr. Johnson.

PNOF enters R carrying an empty cup. He walks to C & knocks on an imaginary door. Neighbour enters L & goes to open the door. He is comically stern & impressive.


PNOF: Oh, hello, you don't know me but I've just moved in next door & I've run out of sugar & I was wondering - can I borrow some ? (Gestures hopefully with empty cup.)

N: You can, you can.

PNOF: Oh, good.


Pause. Neither moves.


PNOF: Well, can I come in ?

N: Oh certainly, certainly. You can borrow some sugar, you can come in, you are evidently perfectly capable of doing either of these things. But that is not the question. The question is - may you ?

PNOF (nervously friendly): Oh, yes, I see - well, may I ?

N: May you ? may you ?

PNOF: If it's not too much trouble.

N: Not too much trouble ?

PNOF: Yes.


They look at each other for a few moments. N looks penetratingly at PNOF, meanwhile gathering himself.


N: You, sir, are an importunate blackguardly wretch.

PNOF: What ?

N: A low , mean, sneaking fellow. Be off, or I'll summon the constable.

PNOF: I'm sorry ... I don't quite understand you ... I'd just like to borrow some sugar (gestures with cup) if I can, I mean, if I may ....

N: Not understand me, sir ? Not understand me ? You appear at least to speak English, so I take it I am not unfounded in the assumption you can understand it ? I am speaking perfectly good English, sir: I flatter myself I have some proficiency in that Art.

PNOF: Oh well, never mind ... it really doesn't matter ... sorry to have disturbed you ... I'll just be getting along ...


N seizes him by the collar.


N: What d'ye say, sir ? My interlocutor proposes to take flight ?

PNOF: Gerroff, gerroff !

N (shaking him): Hey, sir, hey ?


Suddenly, the penny drops for PNOF.


PNOF: Unhand me, sir !

N (taken aback, the mask slips): What ?

PNOF: Unhand me, damn you ! I'll not be handled by any man or ... or ... by George, he'll know about it !

N (letting him go): My dear fellow ! Pray excuse me ! I mistook you entirely !

PNOF (brushing himself off): That's alright, no harm done ... these things happen ...


Pause. They look at each other for a few seconds again.


PNOF: Can I borrow some sugar then ?

N (in an entirely ordinary voice): Er, no, sorry, I haven't got any actually.


Blackout.