JOYCE   I suppose I’ve now got to start looking for another butcher. Wash it. It’s probably filthy. What was this meeting?
Gilbert carries the foot to the sink in the kitchen to wash it. Joyce follows.

GILBERT   It’s a dinner they’re getting up for the Royal Wedding.

JOYCE   No need to ask if we were invited.

GILBERT   We don’t want to be going to dinners. What do we want to be going to dinners for?

JOYCE   To meet people, that’s what for. How else are you going to get on? It’s dripping, Gilbert. It’s dripping! What was the house like?

GILBERT   A palace. They were having steak for their supper.

JOYCE   Steak! You were going to take this town, Gilbert.

GILBERT   I’m a chiropodist, Joyce, not a Panzer division. Look. Jesus.

JOYCE   I beg your pardon.

GILBERT   Washing the feet.
Joyce turns away with a pained expression as Mother comes in.

MOTHER   Have I had my tea?

JOYCE   Eat some of your nougat, love.

MOTHER   You don’t give me my proper rations. He has my rations.
Mother is transfixed, staring at Gilbert. She can only see the toes but the foot that he is drying looks horribly big. She turns and hurries out of the kitchen.

GILBERT   (unaware) She had my sandwiches again today.

JOYCE   She, Gilbert? She? She, as you call her, knitted you a lovely balaclava helmet but we don’t talk about that.

GILBERT   It doesn’t have an opening for my mouth.

JOYCE   She’s seventy-four.

INT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

We glimpse Inspector Noble sitting at his desk slowly taking balls out of his mouth. In another room PC Penny comes upon Wormold about to paint the pork with an indelible green dye. PC Penny rushes into Noble’s office.

PC PENNY   He’s going to paint the pork.
Balls cascade from Inspector Noble’s mouth and we realise that in his spare moments the Inspector is a conjuror. This has nothing to do with the plot. Noble hastens out with PC Penny following.

INSPECTOR NOBLE   We can do that, Mr Wormold. You’ve done enough for one day.

WORMOLD   No. This is the part I enjoy. This means it’s unfit for human consumption.

PC PENNY   Why?

WORMOLD   Who killed it? Where?
Inspector Noble and PC Penny exchange looks.
I used to like painting when I was little. My mother wanted me to be an artist.

PC PENNY   (looking at the pork) What a waste.

WORMOLD   No. I’d never have been any good.

INT. MRS FORBES’S HOUSE (WORMOLD’S LODGINGS). NIGHT.

Mrs Forbes, a well set-up middle-aged lady, is sitting behind the table in the kitchen. Hearing the outside door close, she waits for a moment and then goes out into the passage. Wormold is hanging up his coat, very neatly. Mrs Forbes watches him fondly.