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Death Of A Salesman (c) 2003 Comedy People Ltd
BOB IS VERY UPSET. HE HAS MADE AN APPOINTMENT WITH FRANK...
FRANK
So, why did you want to talk to me, Rob?
ROB
Well, you're a recruitment consultant...
FRANK
Yes. So?
ROB
...I need you to get me out of Sales. Fast.
FRANK
But why? The job's going well! You're twenty per cent over target, you've earned nearly
forty 'k' in bonuses since the summer and you're one of the most successful salesman in
your office. What reason could you have for wanting to get out now.?
ROB OPENS HIS FIST - WE SEE A FLASHING, RED ORB IN HIS PALM, JUST LIKE IN 'LOGAN'S RUN'.
ROB
Does this answer your question?
FRANK GASPS WITH HORROR
FRANK
Oh my God! I didn't realise! I had no idea you were...thirty.
ROB
Shh! Not so loud! HR need only to get one whiff of this and I'll be terminated
indefinitely before the next quarterly review. I need to get out!
FRANK
You don't look thirty.
ROB
I just need another job.
FRANK
And how easy is that going to be...at your age?
ROB
I'll take anything - you've got to help me! What about if I escaped from the City and went
up north?
FRANK
You wouldn't last two minutes in that wilderness! No Seven Elevens, no Café Rouges, and
negative equity at every turn.
ROB
It's got to be worth a try!
FRANK
And what sort of life would you have? What do you know about whippets?
ROB
I'm willing to learn!
FRANK
It would be a lot simpler to stay here and accept your fate. You must understand that the
world belongs to young people now. The insolent, half-witted Saturday sales assistant who
can't operate the till; the small business bank advisor fresh from college; and the
lager-soaked apprentice hod-carrier called Darren who likes hurting people. These are the
legacy for our future. Oh, and people who watch Noel's Houseparty.
ROB
There's got to be something you can do?
FRANK
But what? I've got a ticket to see Hunter address the Oxford Union this evening - he'll be
answering questions in an 'off-the-cuff' style while the students throw tennis balls at
him.
ROB
You're my last chance, Frank! I'm begging you! Please help me!
FRANK
Alright! Alright! As it happens, there is a job going. It's in somewhere called the
Midlands.
ROB
I read about that at school - but I thought it was just a myth?
FRANK
Apparently not. They need someone to dig holes in the ground.
ROB
What for?
FRANK
(Shrugging his shoulders) It's what they do.
ROB
I'll take it - just get me out of here!
FRANK
Right. You'll need these - there's a new passport and national insurance number, a one-way
economy class ticket to Leicester, a letter of introduction for your new employer, oh -
and a bag of tripe. Get yourself to the station and start moaning about how expensive
everything is.
ROB
Right. Will I ever see you again?
FRANK
I'll get in touch as soon as it's safe. Who knows - perhaps it won't always be a crime to
be thirty? Then you can come back.
PAUSE
ROB
I just want to say...
FRANK
...There's no need.
ROB EMBRACES FRANK, THEN EXITS
FRANK PICKS UP A TELEPHONE
FRANK
Hello? Human Resources? Yes...he's on his way to the station now... yes, he's carrying the
tripe...okay...into my usual account? ...Great.
HE PUTS THE PHONE DOWN
HE RUBS HIS HANDS TOGETHER. HE NOTICES SOMETHING. THERE IS A RED FLASHING ORB IN HIS
PALM...
FRANK
Oh bugger!
HE PUTS ON A FLAT CAP
FRANK
(Crap accent) Ey-up, mother! Turned out nice again!