MAN IN CLUB:
Are you Harold Pinter?

WOMAN IN CLUB:
Noel Coward, I think. "Let's get pretentious, put on an act. Let's get portentous and embroider the facts". Ha ha ha ha ha...

MAN MUMBLING:
A fabulous extraordinary hit, especially these people shouting music

Let's get pretentious
Put on an act
Let's be portentous
And embroider facts
Exaggerate it
Dress up the bland
Let's overrate it
Let the critics be damned

Let's get sensuous
Put on some airs
Let's drink Kailuas
And sit bored on the stairs
Let's get excited
When we say hello
Let's be delighted
Though it's nobody we know
I don't know much
But I know what I like
I don't know much
But so-and-so said such-and-such
I don't know much
But I know what I like
I don't know much

Let's find a market
For sparkling wit
Let's make a target
Of anyone with a hit
Let's keep some secrets
Let's make them up
Put them together
Then break them up

I don't know much
But I know what I like
I don't know much
But so-and-so said such-and-such
I don't know much
But I know what I like
I don't know much

RAY:
Oh God, this place is crawling with journalists. I hate the fucking lot of 'em
RASTUS:
Oh Ray, you've got to play the game, eh? I mean, you've got to believe

RAY:
You know what I think?

RASTUS:
What?

RAY:
If you've got beauty or talent you're going get caught up in some kind of prostitution. Well, it's inevitable. That's all it was, my life on the road: prostitution. We're all cunts after all. Get me another drink

RASTUS:
As you know Ray, I find all this fascinating. Pity Ruth Streeting's missin' it

RAY:
Oh, she'll get it, she'll get it, all right. But my way. Don't you worry. My story'll get told

I don't know much
But I know what I like
I don't know much
Now so-and-so said such-and-such
I don't know much
But I know what I like
I don't know much
Let's get pretentious
Put on an act
Let's be portentous
And embroider facts
Exaggerate it
Dress up the bland
Let's overrate it
Let the critics be damned

RASTUS:
Ruth, wow. Hey, you look wonderful in black leather

RUTH:
This isn't leather you twerp, it's rubber

RASTUS:
Hey watch it, you call me a "twerp" again and I might have to get me bicycle pump out

RUTH:
Talking of flat tires, how's Ray?

RASTUS:
I can't get anything out of him. He must have some dough stashed away, and he's up to something, but fuck knows what it is. You know, he still reads his fan mail, but he doesn't reply to it anymore. I don't know what'll fire him up

RUTH:
Bet I could fire him up

RASTUS:
Yeah?

RUTH:
Yeah, I could do it. You say he still reads his fan mail?

RASTUS:
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, if you can do something Ruth, we could shift millions, you know that? And I'll cut you in. I would

RUTH:
I might have an idea. But it'd be dangerous... especially for Ray