Parasite. My very words, Comrade, or at least, hoarding shouldn’t be allowed. Eat your fill and ’ave done with it. Down with larders! Storing things is robbin’ those who haven’t nowhere to store. Eat your fill and have done with it and then there’d be enough for all, wouldn’t there?
Tramp. I dunno——
Parasite. Well, I’m tellin’ yer, aren’t I? Down with——
Ichneumon Fly. (Re-entering) Eat it up, baby, eat it up. Choose what you like. Have you got a nice daddy? Eh?
Parasite. Good afternoon, my lord.
Ichneumon Fly. How d’ye do? Edible? (Sniffing.)
Parasite. Oh no, you’re joking, guv’nor, why me?
Ichneumon Fly. Get out, you filthy creature. What d’ye want here, clear off.
Parasite. I’m movin’, your worship; no offence, captain. (Cowers.)
Ichneumon Fly. (To Tramp) Well, did you see that neat piece of work, eh? It’s not every one who could do that. Ah, my boy, that’s what you want—brains, expert knowledge, enterprise, imagination, initiative—and love of work, let me tell you.