Philomena    I heard every word, Mr Kowalski, and there is absolutely nothing unsavoury about my va . . . If you must know, the only reason I take regular baths is because they relax me. Unlike you I don’t need alcohol and opium to make me feel comfortable and if you are planning on having a word with Mr LeRoy would you please kindly tell him that I’ve got a few words for him regarding your own disgusting behaviour . . . and, and, and if you must know, the reason Charlie wants to get out of here is because he’s sick of being corrupted by you, you’ve turned him from a decent young man into a nervous wreck.

Bert    You finished?

Philomena    May God have mercy on your black soul.

Philomena grabs a hold of a chair and climbs up on to her bed.

Bert (helping Charles up on to the bed)     How’s about you letting me sniff that pussy o’ yours you’re so confident it don’t reek, Philomeany?

Philomena (yelling)     I hope you burn in hell, you odious little animal!

Bert    Quit playing hard to get, honey.

Philomena pulls the covers over her head. Bert laughs as he lays Charles on the bed and climbs down from it.

Charles    . . . How am I going to get home, Bert? I wish . . . When do we get paid, Bert? Will they pay me now? If I . . . will they pay me if I ask them now, Bert?

Bert    Just calm down. You’ll get paid, don’t worry about getting paid, Charlie. They’re cocksuckers, OK, they suck cock but they’re MGM cocksuckers; they’re not gonna welch on paying Munchkins. That’s the kind o’ publicity they don’t need. You imagine – just picture it: two hundred Munchkins rioting in Hollywood, midgets running fucken riot in the hills is the kind of publicity they don’t need right now. Think about it: bad for business . . . and besides, Louis B. Mayer’s a fucken dwarf f’chrissakes. He won’t see us get fucked over.

Charles    . . . You spoke to . . . Bert, you said you spoke to Mr LeRoy?

Bert    Uh-huh.

Charles    That’s good.

Bert    Mighty fucken civil you ask me. I spoke to him. The guy listens.

Charles    Well . . .

Bert    You got a point you wanna get to?

Charles    Look, look . . .

Bert    I’m looking, I’m looking.

Charles    . . . something . . . something has . . .

Bert    Go ahead, I’m all ears. I’m all ears from my ass to my halo, friend like you wants to talk: go ahead.

Charles    Thank you, Bert.

Bert    You’re welcome.

Charles    I’ve . . .

Bert    You need a good drink inside you. What you need inside you they sell at the liquor store under the counter round the back away from fucken weasly eyes.

Charles    I don’t . . . listen . . .

Bert    You need a bottle o’ bourbon in you.

Charles    Don’t – please don’t say that.

Bert    Then fuck the bourbon I’ll get malt.