Scampi: I guess I still do.
Peter: What do you still do?
Scampi: This is the saddest song.
Peter: I hear no song.
Scampi: That’s a separate debate.
Scampi: Do you know what Caledonia is?
Peter: Yes. And sometimes we call it “Scotland”.
Scampi: No, no.
Scampi: Sometimes it could mean something else.
Peter: I see.
Scampi: Such as the coal mines of Glace Bay.
Peter: In Nova Scotia?
Scampi: Not to be confused with New Caledonia.
Peter: I see.
Scampi: You’ll find that there aren’t too many happy songs about miners.
Peter: You are correct. This is something that I have found.
Peter: The hardships of life in the mines have been well-publicised.
Peter: I said –
Scampi: I know what you said. You think that’s tacky?
Peter: That you heard what I said? I think it is perhaps unusual.
Scampi: You think the hardships of life in the coal mines is tacky?
Peter: That, for example, is not what I said.
Scampi: It was the way you said it.
Peter: Oh? What way was that?
Scampi: You’re the one who said it. I’m sure you know how you said it.
Peter: There was nothing wrong with my diction.
Scampi: Diction, quite frankly, is the least of your troubles.
Peter: My troubles?
Scampi: Of course, that’s what they called it in Northern Ireland. The Troubles.
Scampi: What do you know?
Peter: Doubtless I know very little, in comparison to your majestic self.
Scampi: Ho ho. Majestic! Don’t mind if I do!
PETER PREENS CRABBILY IN THE WINDOW.
Scampi: Look at you. You cobra.
Peter: I am demonstrating my feathers to best advantage.
Scampi: That’s evident.
Peter: [re: what Peter clearly just said] I would never say that.
Scampi: Sure. The question is, for whose benefit is this occurring?
Peter: I am simply looking out the window.
Scampi: Oh, of course. Now he looks out the window.
Scampi: You’re like a serpent coquette, gyrating for the local snakecharmer.
Peter: Pardon me?
Scampi: Dancing around in your basket for all the market to see.
Scampi: Time to cross your eyes and go back to bed.
Peter: Are you saying that snakes cross their eyes?
Scampi: So, you think of yourself as a snake?
Peter: I don’t cross my eyes. And I don’t believe it’s actually possible for a snake to cross its eyes.
Scampi: Aha! So you are a snake!
Peter: That is a perversion of logic.
Scampi: Excessive vanity is the perversion of a healthy ego.
Peter: What does that even mean?
Peter: I said, What does that mean?
Scampi: You don’t know what sorry means? (Unsurprising.)
Scampi: Well, there’s no need to get upset.
PETER’S HAIR STANDS UP ON END.
Scampi: You’re so punk rock.
Peter: I assure you, it is unintentional.
Scampi: You know what’s unintentional?
Peter: Do enlighten me.
Scampi: Participating in history. This is unintentional.
Peter: How so?
Scampi: You have to do something intentional to not participate in history. Tu t’en tires. Or. Tu t’en tire une balle.
Peter: I do not know what that means.
Scampi: Oh, naturally.
Scampi: Do you believe that the Troubles are over?
Peter: In Ireland? They are over.
Scampi: Technically. Your troubles, however, are not.
Peter: Likely not.
Scampi: You know, sometimes I look out at the sky and see birds in a vee formation.
Peter: Up at the sky.
Scampi: No. Out. In the direction of the horizon.
Scampi: There they are, flapping all around.
Peter: This is a common activity for birds.
Scampi: Not penguins.
Peter: Or ostriches.
Scampi: Ostriches, Peter!
Scampi: How ridiculous. I’m talking about birds in flight.
Peter: Such as “not penguins”.
Scampi: Right. I wonder if the birds have any idea of the sorts of longings they engender in terrestrial types such as myself.
Peter: Surely not.
Scampi: What are you, a bird-reader?
Scampi: Flock psychology? Cygnet Freud?
Peter: Stop that.
Scampi: Have you ever been to Caledonia?
Peter: [consulting a chart] New Caledonia? The French-owned island in the – ? Pacific.
Scampi: South-west Pacific.
Peter: There is no need to hyphenate.
Scampi: You know why they called it the Pacific?
Scampi: Because it was so peaceful.
Peter: Yes, I knew that.
Scampi: Because it was so blue. Like yourself.
Peter: I am not blue.
Scampi: Nor black, like a miner.
Peter: I do not have coal soot on my face.
Scampi: That is your good luck.
Peter: You may choose to see it that way.
Scampi: I do. So you’ve never been to Caledonia.
Scampi: Me neither. This is a very sad song.
Scampi: I thought you said you couldn’t hear it.
Peter: I couldn’t.