One Leg Too Few

Peter Cook: The scene is set in a producer's office. [moves a chair to center stage] By the magic of placing a chair in the middle of this place, we have conjured up a producer's office. [in character, calls out to stage right] Uh, Miss Rigby? Stella, my love? Would you send in the next auditioner, please? Thank you, my dear.

[Enter Moore, grinning broadly, wearing trench coat, hopping on one leg, the other leg -- the left one -- tucked under the coat - he hops over to Cook and shakes hands.]

Peter Cook: Nice to see you.

Dudley Moore: [still hopping up and down] Nice to see you.

P: Settle down. [puts a hand on Moore's shoulder and stops his hopping] Uh, Mr. Spiggott, is it not?

D: Yes, Spiggott's the name, acting's my game.

P: I see. Spiggott is the name and acting is your game.

D: Right.

P: If you'd like to settle down for one moment, Mr. Spiggott.

D: Certainly, yes.

P: Thank you very much. [Moore hops over to the chair and rests his "stump" on it] Mr. Spiggott, er, you are auditioning, are you not, for the role of Tarzan?

D: Yes.

P: Uh, Mr. Spiggott, I, uh, I couldn't help noticing -- almost immediately -- that you are a one-legged man.

D: Oh. You noticed that?

P: When you've been in the business as long as I have, Mr. Spiggott, you, uh, you get to notice these little things, almost instinctively.

D: Yeah. Sort of ESP.

P: That kind of thing, yes.

D: Mm, yes.

P: Now, Mr. Spiggott, you, a one-legged man, are applying for the role of Tarzan.

D: Yes, right.

P: A role traditionally associated with a two-legged artiste.

D: Yes, correct, yes, yes.

P: And yet you, a unidexter... are applying for the role.

D: Yes, right, yes.

P: A role for which two legs would seem to be the minimum requirement. Well, Mr. Spiggott, need I point out to you with overmuch emphasis where your deficiency lies as regards landing the role?

D: Yes, I think you ought to.

P: Perhaps I ought, yes. Need I say with, uh, too much stress that it is in the, uh, leg division that you are deficient.

D: The leg division?

P: The leg division, Mr. Spiggott. You are deficient in the leg division to the tune of one. Your right leg I like. It's a lovely leg for the role. As soon as I saw it come in, I said, "Hello! What a lovely leg for the role!"

D: Ah!

P: I've got nothing against your right leg.

D: Ah!

P: The trouble is -- neither have you. [delayed applause] You, uh, you fall down on the left.

D: You mean it's inadequate?

P: It is inadequate, Mr. Spiggott.

D: Mm.

P: In my view, the public is not yet ready ...

D: No?

P: ... for the sight of a one-legged Tarzan swinging through the jungly tendrils, shouting "Hello, Jane."

D: No. No, right.

P: But don't despair, Mr. Spiggott. I mean, after all, you score over a man with no legs at all. By one hundred percent.

D: Well, I've got twice as many.

P: You're streets ahead!

D: So there's still hope?

P: Of course there is still hope, Mr. Spiggott.

D: Ah!

P: I mean, if we get no two-legged character actors in here within, say, the next, oh, [checks his wristwatch] eighteen months, there is every chance that you, a unidexter, will be the very type of artiste we shall be attempting to contact with a view to jungle stardom.

D: [likes the sound of that] Jungle stardom.

[Moore gets off chair, shakes hands with Cook while hopping up and down.]

P: So my advice to you, Mr Spiggot, is: go home, hop on a bus! (Spiggot hobbles out of the room) That's right. . . thank you very much for coming, Mr Spiggot. Bye-bye!