||[Jan. 15th, 2010|08:05 am]
A dream prompted a memory (or perhaps the other way around) which prompted this to pop back into my head - well the first line and some snippets, thankfully Google filled in the gaps.|
It's from Stoppard's "the Real Inspector Hound" apparently.
"Sometimes I dream of revolution, a bloody coup d'etat by the second rank
troupes of actors slaughtered by their understudies, magicians sawn in half by indefatigably smiling glamour girls, cricket teams wiped out by marauding bands of twelfth men
I dream of champions chopped down by rabbit-punching sparring partners while the eternal bridesmaids turn and rape the bridegrooms over the sausage rolls and parliamentary private secretaries plant bombs in the Minister's Humber
comedians die on provincial stages, robbed of their feeds by mutely triumphant stooges
And march - an army of assistants and deputies, the seconds-in-command, the runners-up, the right-hand men - storming the palace gates wherein the second son has already mounted the throne having committed regicide with a croquet mallet
stand-ins of the world stand up! "
So, in order to stop the damned thing going around my brain for the rest of the day, I though I'd stow it here.