I'm Going Parading!

Look at him sitting there with his hooter scraping away at that book.

Well, what's the matter with that?

Have you no natural resources of your own? Have they even robbed you of that?

You can learn from books.

You can, can you? Sheeps heads! You could learn more by getting out there and living.

Out where?

Any old where! But not our little Richard. Oh, no. When you're not thumping them pagan skins...you're tormenting your eyes with that rubbish.

Books are good.

Parading's better.

Parading?

Parading the streets...trailing your coat, bowling along, living!

Well, I am living.

You? Living? When was the last time you gave a girl a pink-edged daisy? When did you last embarrass a sheila with your... cool appraising stare?

You're a bit old for that sort of chat, aren't you?

At least I've got a backlog of memories. All you've got is that book!

Stop picking on me. You're as bad as the rest of them.

So you are a man after all!

What's that mean?

Do you think I haven't noticed? Do you think I wasn't aware of the drift? You poor, unfortunate scruff. They've driven you into books with their cruel, unnatural treatment... exploiting your good nature.

I don't know.

Sure, that lot's never happier unless they're jeering you. Where'd they be without the steady support of your drum beat... that's what I'd like to know.

Yeah, that's right.

And what's it all come to in the end?

Yeah, what's in it for me?

A book.

Yeah, a blooming book!

When you could be out there betraying a rich American widow... or sipping palm wine in Tahiti before you're too old like me.

Funny, being middle-aged and old... takes up most of your time, doesn't it?

You're only right. Where are you going?         

I'm going parading before it's too late.