Thread by @cupofassam

Fête à 10 Downing Street, by Eugène Ionesco.

M. Johnson: Oh, what’s this? A cake.
Mme. Johnson: Yes, my love. Blow the candles.
M. Johnson: So it must be my birthday!
Mme. Johnson: Yes, it must be your birthday.

M. Johnson: And who are these people, wearing paper hats. And saying that I am a jolly good fellow?
Mme Johnson: They are in a meeting, mon cher.
M. Johnson: And who is this, our kitsch decorator?
Mme Johnson: Yes, whom we paid for ourselves (she winks).
M. Johnson: Did we?

Mme Johnson: (winks)
M. Johnson: Oh yes. We did. We did pay her ourselves. So, if this is a cake, and this is my birthday, and these people are in a meeting, and if our decorator is also in this meeting, then this must be…
Mme Johnson: A work event.
M. Johnson: A work event.

M. Cummings (passes through on a horse): I am the chief of the fire brigade. Are anyone’s pant on fire?
M. Johnson: Who was that?
Mme Johnson: He is on a work outing to Barnard Castle. Now, eat some cake my love. It’s on the Matters Arising.

An orator: (enters) I have arrived to announce government policy (on a large blackboard he slowly scrawls lines which, eventually, seemingly form the words ‘Angel Cake’).
A rhinoceros: (enters) I am the last human being. I will not capitulate.