Lady Damp. Might I ask what kind of creature a—a "Cock-eyed Kipper" may be?
Mr. Gard. Oh, well, I suppose it's a sort of a dried herring—with a squint, don't you know.
Lady Damp. I see no humour in making light of a personal deformity, I must say.
Mr. Gard. Oh, don't you? They will—it'll go with a scream there!
Miss Diova Rose. Yes, poor dears—and we mustn't mind being just a little vulgar for once—to cheer them up.
Lady Honor. I have been to the Pavilion and the Tivoli myself, and I heard nothing to object to. I know I was much more amused than I ever am at theatres—they bore me to death.
Mr. Bagotrix. We might finish up with Mrs. Jarley's Waxworks you know. Some of you can be the figures, and I'll come on in a bonnet and shawl as Mrs. Jarley, and wind you up and describe you. I've done it at lots of places in the country; brought in personal allusions and all that sort of thing, and made everybody roar.
Lady Damp. But will the East-Enders understand your personal allusions?
Mr. Bag. Well, you see, the people in the front rows will, which is all I want.
Lady Honor (suspiciously). Isn't Mrs. Jarley out of Pickwick, though? That's Dickens surely!