Scampi: What do we know about cricket?
Peter: The sport?
Scampi: No, the grasshopper.
Peter: Is a cricket the same thing as a grasshopper?
Scampi: Yes the sport.
Peter: I am not much of a sportsman.
Scampi: Couldn’t have said it better myself.
Peter: Does this answer your question?
Scampi: No. Yes, in part.
Peter: Which part?
Scampi: We might attend a cricket match.
Scampi: I’m just saying, we could. It could be fun.
Peter: Who we? You and I?
Scampi: You and me.
Peter: I don’t think so.
Scampi: Why not?
Peter: Well why?
Scampi: Ridiculous. So, you know nothing about cricket.
Peter: I wouldn’t say nothing.
Scampi: I would.
Peter: Perhaps, next to nothing.
Scampi: Fine. Why not?
Peter: For example, I know it’s a sport. There’s a bat and a ball.
Scampi: You’re a regular polymath. A Pollyanna.
Peter: Yes. Wait, what was the last part?
Scampi: You look very Pollyannaish in that white shirt.
Peter: Do I?
Scampi: With those buttons.
Peter: You take exception to the buttons on my shirt?
Scampi: I do not.
Peter: Oh. Good.
Scampi: I am not an exceptionalist.
Peter: I might take exception to that.
Scampi: How exceptionalist of you. A king among men, you are.
Peter: That’s not what I said.
Scampi: No. I said it.
Peter: You did.
Scampi: I did.
Peter: Where is this going?
Scampi: Nowhere. You’re the one who won’t talk to me.
Peter: Stuff and nonsense.
Scampi: About cricket.
Peter: But I don’t know anything about cricket. I said so.
Scampi: Practically nothing.
Peter: Do you know anything about cricket?
Scampi: I might.
Peter: Do you?
Scampi: You wouldn’t know.
Peter: Not at this rate, in any case.
Scampi: We could learn about it. Cricket.
Peter: I’m just not interested.
Scampi: I know something about cricket that you like.
Peter: And what is that?
Scampi: People eat curry at a cricket match.
Peter: Do tell.
Scampi: Some of the best curry in England.
Peter: Good for them!
Scampi: Yes. It is. You know what else?
Scampi: If we were cricket fans, we could follow it in the news.
Peter: This would hardly be revolutionary. Of us.
Scampi: Right. Hardly. We would follow the league stats and our favourite players. And then while I made tea, for example, you would say, “Have you noticed how well the Rajasthan Royals have been doing this season?” and I would say, “Yeah, yeah. This year could be the one.” You see?
Peter: We would discuss statistics.
Scampi: Damn right we would. You see what I mean?
Peter: I’m not sure.
Scampi: Don’t you?
Peter: Perhaps I do not.
Scampi: Fine. What do you want to talk about?
Peter: Oh, I have no preference, really.
Scampi: Yeah right.
Peter: Perhaps I do not wish to talk.
Scampi: Do you?
Peter: Wish to talk?
Scampi: What’s that supposed to mean?
Peter: It isn’t supposed to mean anything.
Scampi: It has to mean something.
Peter: The epistemology of cricket chat. Is that where we are?
Scampi: No. We’re talking about the purpose of language. Yours.
Peter: There’s only one?
Scampi: Purpose or language?
Scampi: There’s at least one of each, that’s all I’m saying.
Peter: How descriptivist of you.
Scampi: Why are you so terrified?
Peter: I imagine you consider that to be some sort of segue.
Scampi: It requires no consideration.
Peter: Then I shan’t consider it.
Scampi: Classic knee-jerk response.
Peter: To what?
Peter: What is?
Scampi: All this batting about.
Peter: You and your bats.
Scampi: Our bats.
Scampi: Ours. We’re sharing.
Scampi: But if I’m sharing with you.
Peter: That’s none of my business.
Scampi: Then you must be sharing with me.
Peter: That is called something. I cannot remember what it’s called.
Scampi: Would you like a hint?
Scampi: You’re not some kind of palefaced German tragedian, you know.
Peter: I am most certainly not.
Scampi: That’s right. Everyone is alone, and all that. The rose on the hill.
Peter: Rose on a hill?
Scampi: That’s not you.
Peter: I am not a rose.
Scampi: Well, we can’t go that far.
Peter: We can ruddy well stop that short.
Scampi: Of being a rose?
Peter: Yes. Of all this nonsense.
Scampi: Do you prefer plain sense?
Peter: In fact, I do.
Scampi: It doesn’t incense you?
Peter: I abhor the smell of incense.
Scampi: You do?
Scampi: Funny, I can smell some on the air. Right now.
Peter: What? Ghastly.
Scampi: Can you?
Scampi: You’re not even trying.
Peter: And why would I?
Scampi: Why wouldn’t you?
Peter: What, try harder to inhale scents that I abhor? As they waft past on the air?
Peter: I will not dignify the question.
Scampi: Likely not. So you can’t smell it?
Scampi: It’s gone now anyway.
Peter: This has nothing to do with me.
Scampi: A comfortable fantasy, isn’t it?
Peter: What is?
Scampi: Jeder ist allein.
Peter: I don’t know what that is.
Scampi: It’s nothing.
Scampi: Today is a mixture of sun and cloud.
Peter: It is.
Scampi: Would you like to have a nap?
Scampi: I could watch the door.
Peter: For what?
Scampi: Meteorological dissonance.
Peter: I am slightly tired.
Scampi: It’s exhausting, isn’t it?
Peter: It is.